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A huge and shiny mystery box
Sat before me on the floor
It was adorned with shiny locks
Excitement shook me to the core

For many years I had this dream
That I would find the things I’d lost
And now this shiny box would seem
To solve my dream at any cost

I told myself to surely find
The most important item first
So searching deep into my mind
To label all, the best and worst

There was a list of childhood toys
And lovers lost when I was young
The car I raced with all the boys
And Christmases with tinsel hung

The day I found my mate for life
The moment I became a Dad
The life and time shared with my wife
Those times for which I am so glad

I guess we all have lost so much
That placing first the only one
Will be most difficult and such
Must carefully be thought and done

And then I knew, no doubt in mind
That in the box, one choice, no other
From the box I’d search and find
Loving time spent with my Mother
Memories
Zywa 3d
Being alone is

nice, my experiences --


resonate again.
Song "Aftertones" (1976, Janis Ian, album "Aftertones")

Collection "Being my own museum"
Nehal Apr 23
Before the crows sit
on the scarecrow,
I'll have you in remembrance
the path we used to walk.
I feel as if you are in my
aunt's house, being a symbol
illuminating the house.
When I sit alone, the absence
speaks you are alive, but I
had seen the grave.
I cry my heart out on
the bed, will you ever come back?
If your spirit dwells in our genes,
can you still embrace me in your arms?
Oh, my maternal grandma, I miss
your presence, like the old days,
even if I feel you are here.
Tom Lefort Feb 8
Drop by drop, the measured melancholy,
Downing secrets from the past.

Tick by tock, each treasured nobody,
Their heartbeats beaten fast.

Hurt by hurt, each regret I will ever own,
My scattered promises, a broken trust.

Death by death, the full stop comes to pass,
Leaving empty spaces upon our paths.

Life by life, such are my memories lost in time,
Those precious moments never meant to last.

Tom Lefort 2025
Oliver Feb 1
My past is a story someone else wrote,
And I only have the torn pages—
Fragments without context,
A book with no beginning.

I chase memories like butterflies,
But they slip through my fingers,
Not fluttering away—no,
They were never there at all.

I know I love cartoons.
I know my mother made me a quilt,
Small, soft, still mine—
But now it sits folded away,
Replaced by a newer one,
Just as warm, just as loved.

She remembers when I was small.
She remembers the things I’ve lost.
And maybe that’s enough—
To have proof that I was,
Even when I can’t recall.

But where are the missing pieces?
The laughter in the backyard,
The whispered secrets,
The warmth of a childhood
That should be mine?

I sit with the silence,
Trying to stitch together
A story I was meant to remember.
But all I have are torn pages—
And I don’t know how the story goes.
I still have the quilt my mom made when I was young, a corner is bitten and torn cause I used to have a chewing problem. I have two more quilts each bigger than the last. I love them all with all my heart.

This is the first poem I wrote about myself, I hate writing about myself. I can never remember. I used to cry not being able to write stories in class like everyone else. mine were false made up not real like the others. they were meant to be real about our lives but I couldn't remember mine.

I can remember more than before but that part of my life is lost its gone and I don't know why. I wish there was an answer. I wish I had the solution to get them back. a while ago I remembered one memory from when I was little. I had ignored my mom's warnings not the play on the seemingly endless amount of chairs there were. I played had fun and fell there was a nail sticking out the side of one and it caught the skin of my leg. I don't remember what happened next or how I reacted or how I felt about it. I could have cried I could have smiled I could have pretended it didn't hurt as much as it did, but I don't know I don't remember. I wish i did even if it wasn't the best memory it was still mine and I can only remember part of it. I wish I could remember more than the few memories I have from when I was younger. I have less than what can be counted on one hand. they are my memories they are mine if only they thought so too.
Riz Mack Jun 2024
MX
Moxie?
I seen that once in a museum
next to the floppy
good old human beings
price of admission doesn't seem worth the plot
thank the poppys I was born a bot!
Jeremy Betts Apr 2024
I feel something missing from me
I have this empty, icy chest cavity
Where a something should absolutely be
But for the life of me
I can't think of what the contents use to be
I can't recall what I used to see
Back in the day when I looked in the mirror,
And the mirror looked back at me
I think it was something important ultimately
But there's definitely nothing there now so how important could what was there be,
I mean really
It doesn't appear to be a necessity
Maybe it was just an option in the creation recipe
Just figured since I'm working to put myself back together,
This time completely
I'd focus on the biggest vacancy
But I guess I'll just leave it be,
At least until it starts affecting me
We'll just have to wait and see

©2024
Jeremy Betts Mar 2024
I feel safer somewhere cold and dark
Like my lonely, ransacked heart
At times it has played the part
Tucked behind a fleshy rampart
Casting a stark silhouette,
Becoming somewhat of a trademark
Can't remember when it lost it's spark
It had to have been sometime, way back,
Before the halfway mark
The memory gets a bit hazy,
Especially when trying to recall the start
What I get to deal with now is,
Just how quickly it all fell apart

©2024
LadyM Aug 2022
I've been dragged away
from the edge of the water,
even though I wanted to jump right in

I'd been only swimming
in the shallow corners,
almost learned to let go
and give in

Give in to the waves
let them pull me further from the shore
Give in to the tide,
hear the ocean roar

But something happened then
and I lost my sight of how and when
For a minute I closed my eyes,
thought I was lost at sea,
but when I looked around
there was no water to be seen

Just like someone
came and took my hand
and pulled me far away
off to dry lands

Felt like memory loss,
tried but couldn't remember
why my feet were still so wet
when I was in the centre
of the forest splendour

And sometimes I recall
the memories of the time
when I almost had it all

I was getting so close,
could barely believe
that I had found the purpose of my reality

But not everything works out
Lost sight of my true silhouette
My head has been dry for so long,
but my feet are still wet

Out of place
Out of my mind
Lost in the woods
Lost track of time
Take me back
Now I recall
why my feet are still wet
I can still have it all

I'll drag myself back
to the edge of the water
and jump right in like I was meant to

I'll be swimming away
into the deep end
Giving in to the waves
Giving in to the tide
Giving in to the voices that I've kept inside

My feet are still wet
and now I know why
A song (with a melody in mind) that I've written tonight. 🎵 For months I've felt like I was losing myself more each day. Fading... I've been feeling completely lost - like my life is going but I'm not really in it. Or not meant to be in it in this way. Out of place - this has been my most common thought. With my last poem published on this page in 2019, I've indeed lost touch with who I am. And after today's major breakdown, I finally know why I've been feeling so lost - because I keep trying to be someone who I am not. I am a songwriter, I knew this since I was 10. I wish I'd never let it slip away. But I want to get back. I know it will take time and practice to pick up a lost dream, but if I continue being who I am not, I will lose myself completely.
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