"memorized" poems
I don't remember, any more,
The exact shape of your hands
As I held them in mine,
Caressed them,
Memorized the length of your fingers,
The depth of your calluses.
I don't remember, any more,
Exactly your height, how much
Taller than me
You were, where
My head rested on your chest
When you held me tightly close.
I don't remember, any more,
Your scent, when we lay together
Creating our own
Magic rhythm,
Matching our heartbeats as we
Touched the sky, together.
I don't remember, any more,
The sound of your voice, calling
My name as though
It were a song
Within itself, a precious treasure
You valued with all your being.
And I don't remember, any more,
The color of your eyes, the shape
Of your lips,
Only...
How your eyes crinkled at the corners
And your laugh, as you told me,
"I love you."
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 5:26 PM UTC
The first time I saw you it was in math class.
I didn't notice anything about you at first I just memorized the back of how your head was.
After all, I had an hour to ****
The second time I saw you were in English class.
You sat next to me but not by choice.
But I was happy about it.
It took me about four to five weeks to talk to you,
and I wasn't even the one to speak first.
You introduced yourself and then we worked together on an assignment.
It's been two weeks and I haven't said another word and I probably won't out of random.
My anxiety swallows me whole
and I'm sorry I can't even say hello.
But I have had time to notice you.
And let me just say
I'm in love with your taste in music
I'm in love with the way you hold your books
thinking that if you change the sound of your voice when the diagonal changes,
or if you struggle reading words you've never seen before and sit there for a few seconds trying to piece together what they mean.
I love how you can play the mandolin, you should show me sometime.
As I think about these things I also pick up how you would never even think of me.
I mean really,
you probably want some girl that's outgoing and can strum a guitar solo at midnight with you.
You probably want someone with long hair you can intertwine your fingers in,
or someone you can spend an afternoon together after church with.
I can't move mountains
and I can't even speak without looking like a fool,
but even if nothing will ever happen
It would be just as quite exciting being friends with you.
We could trade books and make each other mixtapes.
It hasn't even been a month yet and I'm already writing mediocre poetry about you.
I'm sorry about that by the way.
I'm not asking for a relationship but a friendship with someone like you would feel just the same.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 6:46 PM UTC
We never took pictures together
because you don't like how big your eyes are
I would drown in them for you
but you would be too busy
watching the sunrise to notice.
You have glasses because you're blind
But they aren't the right prescription
because you still don't see your beauty.
I remember the night you had me drive
two hours away from the city lights
just so you could point out
all the constellations you memorized
when you were younger.
I let you go on and on about stars,
waiting for you to mention the way
you outshine all of them
But you kissed me instead
and I think that was even better.
Even when Summer faded out,
you would always smell like sunshine.
I wanted to live forever in the daydream
of you and me walking along the shoreline.
Your laughter was synonymous
with sunflowers
and how everytime you caught sight of them
you couldn't stop yourself from smiling.
But that should have been my warning sign
because Russia's official flower is the Sunflower
and ever since you left
I've traded water for *****
and this winter has been unusually rainy
but it's still too bright for me to go outside.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC
Tonight I missed a shot with nostalgia because of myself.
I've become such a slave to my phone that the flashing colours in the sky could not,
would not bother me.
Everything except for the device shining in my palms was blocked out like a voice I didn't want to hear in the first place,
Except I DID want to hear it.
I want know about everything that is happening around me without burying my face so deeply into Google to find the answers I'm searching for.
Nothing ever happens to me because I'm too busy in the comfort of my own home,
upon my own couch,
on my own phone worrying about the next Facebook status
and whether or not it will be entertaining
or in need of a dose of an opinion that is my own.
I recognize that I have my own personal "cell"-mate that will follow me wherever I go as long as I don't forget it on my kitchen counter.
I am shackled to my cellphone.
It takes me in handcuffs daily,
arresting me at my own free will.
A policemen of such small character,
yet so many brains.
And I already know my rights.
I already know my rights because I've researched them enough times with my mobile text book to have them memorized.
You have the right to post a status, anything you say can and will be taken out of context.
You have a right to an opinion, if you do not have an opinion one will be appointed to you by your desire to impress those whom share a friendship with you.
I am a servant to technology.
It's as though it is a part of my anatomy.
If it's not one item of electronics it's another and it has my full undivided attention.
As connected as we are, we have all become disconnected.
No one talks anymore.
Word of mouth has become word of texting.
Important pieces of information are shared via the internet because it's easier to get it out there all at once instead of saying it multiple times.
I sadly succumb to every chime I am beckoned with as it demands I answer whomever has interupted the surfing
and scrolling
and sharing
and liking
and commenting
and posting...
I put my phone down in disbelief.
Now tell me, "What's on your mind?"
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 12:07 AM UTC
You don't know me
The places I wanna see
The things I want to know
What I want to be told
No, you don't know me
You can't hold me
Or tell me everything's alright
When I know you hold her
Like you used to hold me
You tell her she's made of gold
You know her favorite food, her favorite dress
And all the other things
That you don't know about me
I know you've memorized
Her face, Her voice
Yet when you turn around
Can you even remember my name?
I guess it's too much to ask
For redamancy these days
As loyalty has gone out the window
A word of the past
But you used to tell me
That I was made of gold
And that in your arms
I was only yours to hold
But your hands have roamed
So far away from me
And it's not fair
To make me watch
As you do with her
All you did with me
We used to talk about the future
But in a single heartbeat
You have changed our destiny
All those words of yours
Come back and haunt me
Everytime you called me beautiful,
Was it just practice for telling her?
Well you were right about one thing
I am made of gold
And that girl of yours
No matter how much you try
To mold her into me
She will only ever be pyrite
Just a cheap imitation
Of the treasure you will never hold
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 10:25 PM UTC
_hey you
we haven't really talked
in a while
which is funny because
i've memorized every inch of your profile
the softness of your deep eyes
that you hate so much
that i sometimes hate too
lately i just feel so far away from you
pull and tug
tug and pull
why won't you just let me
make your heart full?_
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 2:34 PM UTC
Sports have rules
Down to every little detail
Zoned in and ready to go
You do this and this happens
There are memorized plays
Your mind reacts automatically
Rules
Every game has them
I'm good at body control
Now, controlling my emotions
That's a different story
I wish life was as easy as sports
In life, theres endless possibilities
You do this and you have no idea what happens
Baseball, volleyball, and hockey
I can play all day long
Life
I'm sick of it already
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 11:05 PM UTC
Even though humans struggle to live and darkness is easier memorized than light..
Moments of bliss and happiness are still likely to occur,
Perhaps not today perhaps it will take a longer time,
That is what I find very beautiful,
The love of life which rarely is set ablaze by events,
Rejoicing, in the truest bliss alike spiders in their tiny dance,
Forgetting the heavy rain and feeling alive on the highest level,
Even though, it is likely to fade as if it was dust carried away by a gentle breeze of the coming spring, far away till the horizon,
A moment of love can change a persons view of the world,
Motivate them to keep on fighting to experience the sheer amount of joy and happiness carried to them by the purest state of the mind,
Until all the shrapnel of their hearts rejoin and shine beyond the scene, with light coming from above the heavens, golden, free of sin,
And when the sunset ends these cheerful moments, their memories live on, reminding, recalling and pointing out to fight furthermore,
Even though humans stuggle to live wretchedly,
Living,
Is what I find very beautiful.
~ Umi
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 2:10 PM UTC
Holy cow, watch that ***** shake
As she twerks up and down
You know, my lord, that ain’t no fake
It **** near slaps the ground
To watch her twerk is amazing
Giving me a notion
…Need a better view of that thing
See up close that motion
I’m memorized, I sit and stare
Caught up in that movement
***** bouncing beyond compare
twerk be all heaven sent
truth be told I hate this whole trend
young girls objectified
there’s more to you than a rear-end
on second thought…I lied
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 3:45 PM UTC
I know the stories that you tell
I have them memorized so well
I take you at face value
Every time
You're everything I want
You're nothing I could hate
Hope you don't hesitate
Will you be mine?
**I see the electric sunshine
I see the electric sunshine
I see the electric sunshine**
In your eyes
It's nothing but a bruise
It doesn't mean abuse
It's just a disagreement
I'll be fine
He still loves me the same
He tells me it's okay
He knows just what to say
Every time
**I see the electric sunshine
The mask you hide behind
I see the electric sunshine**
In your eyes
I know the stories that you tell
I know they're just pathetic spells
You thought I'd fall for it
Every time
You're no longer what I want
You're everything I've come to hate
Now your gone for good and I know
I'll be fine
***I saw the sunshine in your eyes
The light you flipped on with a switch
And when it turned out to be lies
I turned into a *****
And I cut the cord to the ties that bound
I'm happy without electric sunshine now
I've seen the light without you***
I let it shine
Mar 19, 2016
Mar 19, 2016 at 1:17 PM UTC
I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to reduce fractions, and no matter how difficult it is to memorize the periodic table. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of a vulture. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the ***** whale, and the ***** whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. I never want to be away from you again, except at work, in the restroom or when one of us is at a movie the other does not want to see.
I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where we once were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from slim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me as I am discovering this.
I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world.
I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence, and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong.
I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday.
Strange as it may seem, I still hope for the best, even though the best, like an interesting piece of mail, so rarely arrives, and even when it does it can be lost so easily.
Life will never end when you are in it.”
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
~for lovejunkie, who loved this poem best~
*so many reasons,
so many stones
yet unturned,
for each poem
a season,
for every season,
a given reason
eyes, dimmer,
hearing, harder,
memories, ha,
disappear as fast as
footsteps upon
my island beach
this then
my log,
of places momentarily visited,
capturing the of,
of me,
the exactitude of
where, when and what
I felt
what felled me,
the long and lat,
of the attitudes
of breeze and currents,
the happenstance that carries
a desperate soul
eager and afraid
to remember*
"how fragile we are"
*so memorized records here,
for his storage and his places,
both filled and unfulfilled,*
***poems, nothing more,
flawed each,
product of a flawed man,***
here, for all to see,
most of all,
for the man,
to see himself
when the eyes of his mind
at last be shuttered
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC
Must we go on believing
That the best is yet to come
When we both know for certain
All there ever was is done?
Because whatever we were meant to be
We never had a prayer;
You weren’t where you said you’d be
And I was never there.
I don’t mean to let you have it
Like I did back when in Rome
But the line goes slack for no one
And a soft tongue breaks the bone
But as for holding onto fullness,
As for reaching for my hand
All attempts are vain and useless;
I am never where I am.
So leave your burdens where they lie
With the words you’ve memorized
We said when we knew we’d fly,
And we’d never die,
And it was meant to be,
But it was fantasy;
And it was destiny
That won the duel
My beautiful little fool.
Farewell my love, farewell to you;
My beautiful little fool.
In spite of all that you’ve been taught
By the bull that you were bought,
And everything you think you thought:
You are what you are naught;
And all the days to come,
And all of your wisdom,
Will not save you from
Your heart’s rule
My beautiful little fool.
Farewell my love, farewell to you;
My beautiful little fool.
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 10:28 PM UTC
The pressure’s building up
I feel like soda that’s been dropped.
I feel like I’m about to explode
And I know that soon I’ll pop.
I know what’s about to happen
And I need to escape this room.
Where I go, I don’t know.
But I need to flee the impending doom.
I need to get to the clinic.
There I know I’ll be fine.
They always knows what to do;
But can I make it in time?
But no, it’s too late.
My soda bottle has blown.
I am no longer able to move, for
The seed of anxiety has grown.
Now I’ve collapsed, and
My rational side has died.
I can’t handle this-make it stop!
My strength is again being tried.
All the techniques I’ve memorized
Have completely flown my mind.
All the things I have prepared
Are suddenly unable to find.
“Don’t forget to just breathe!”
Ah, yes, the mantra of those “helpful” ones.
Well, here’s a newsflash for you-
Being told that helps NONE!
My lungs are overworking now,
And my heart is beating fast.
And every single breath I take
I fear it might be my last.
My hands have spiders in them.
My brain has gone offline.
My vision’s getting foggy;
Please- just don’t pass out this time.
My mind is leaving my body
And it’s floating freely in air.
I’m no longer able to feel anything
Please help me; I’m so scared.
Now I’m descending back to my body
And I can feel every atom around me.
It’s too much-make it stop!
Why can’t anybody hear my plea?
Luckily I calm down
Before my monster gets his way.
He’s returning back to hiding now
But I know he’ll soon come back to play.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 2:05 PM UTC
I have memorized every inch of him
in hopes that when he goes
I might still have something left
but his picture fades with everyday
and now I have only shapes and shadows
of the man that I love
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 8:16 PM UTC
Walgreens pharmacy girl
your upturned nose and your hair pulled back
here to pick up my prescription and a snack
Walgreens pharmacy girl
Ive been coming here for years
and every time I leave the drive-thru I'm in tears
Walgreens pharmacy girl
For so long, I've loved you from afar
yet still I have no idea who you are
That's Berger, B-E-R-G-E-R
Walgreens pharmacy girl
My date of birth again? I would have already memorized yours
I'd remember our anniversary, put the toilet seat down and do chores
Walgreens pharmacy girl
Am I anything to you besides another bottle of pills?
I have to know now because not knowing just kills
Walgreens pharmacy girl
Will you refill my prescription for love?
Basking in a pharmaceutical moonlight, under the stars above
Walgreens pharmacy girl
I need a cure for what ails me
You've given me a fever and I'm feeling a bit dizzy
Walgreens pharmacy girl
No, I don't have any questions for the doctor, but I have two for you
What time do you get off? And what time would you like to?
Jul 9, 2011
Jul 9, 2011 at 9:00 PM UTC
Around the table,
Literacy discussion turned elitist...
Bemoaning some poor Johnny,
Son of a plumber who does not read
Beyond the practical need,
And has no desire to.
I stopped to check my sense of what I had just heard...
Was transported to a prairie farm;
Thought of my Father, then in his eighties
Who felt no need and no sense of loss
For not having read Shakespeare nor Kant
For missing Milton's Paradises and Hemingway,
For by-passing Black Elk Speaks and C.S. Lewis.
Every morning, he read his Bible;
Some nights he read the mail's
Motley collection of literature:
Ads and politicians and fanatics,
Demanding money and his time,
But mostly money.
"I don't have time to read!"
He'd shout when I suggested a novel.
What literature he had was in his head,
Poems memorized when he was a boy
In a two room school, or
His own lines, written as a young man,
Describing work and friends
Long distant now, but still alive
In memory.
Dad taught me how to read
In different literacies and different texts:
Nuances of sky to read the weather -
What chill or storm or drought was on its way
("Storm's coming, boys! Let's get that hay!");
Cows and calves and bulls,
(Which one was sick or well, dry or bred);
Ways to diagnose mechanical ailments
("Start with the easiest options first");
Metals, to know which welding rod applied
("Aluminum sags, and cast iron cracks");
Grain, rolled crisp between hard hands,
(a test of ripeness);
Cement, to blend the perfect mix,
("Clean gravel/sand, no dirt, not too much water!);
Conservation,
("Always keep some grain on hand" &
"Keep your fuel above half-tank").
So many literacies...
Dad, the Master Reader of them all...
No wonder he'd no time for books.
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 9:26 PM UTC
Go away.
From my heart,
from my soul,
from my head.
Leave me, please.
Take the memories.
Take the pain.
Take it all.
I don’t want to have your smile memorized.
I don’t want your eye color to be my favorite color.
I don’t want you.
I can’t want you.
I need you gone.
You don’t even know it,
you have this suffocating grasp on my life.
On me.
I can’t breathe here.
Because you’re so close,
so far away.
I should hate you.
I want to hate you.
I can’t though,
my heart won’t let me.
If you ever loved me, let me go.
Let me go
let me go
let me go.
Release me from this suffering,
release me from needing to know you’re okay,
release me from needing to check in on you,
release me from being more worried about you than myself.
****
****
****
Just put me out of my misery.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
when you would have thought that nerve had gone, worn down,
when you would have thought that sense was a nub, tuckered out,
given a well deserved rest, after all, it was the best of each of us
maybe a glow, flickering in and out, a summer sun between clouds,
the occasional pang pinging, radiant, radiating in forgotten places,
luxury good, can’t longer afford, once, given with a happy reckless
crazy how love stays with me, low grade infection, ready to spread,
bud by morning, afternoon full blossom, black wilt by next daylight,
can’t decipher, finally decide, these tremors make old age life worthy?
absent, but memorized slivers, old poems, drive by glances of places,
hurt like hell so briefly, double over, no one notices, so fast dispensed,
it’s crazy how love stays with me,
and it’s a crazy that tastes so good,
hurts so awfully good, so badly bad
perhaps that is why behind my back,
not to my face, they whisper, call me,
the guy, still crazy after all these years,
just still crazy after all these tears, or just,
still crazy
Jul 9, 2023
Jul 9, 2023 at 5:45 AM UTC
In a white book, writing was done with tears,
And so we cannot figure out a single line;
Memorized and though about since early youth,
It eludes one’s wit even as one has aged and greyed.
When mind seeks it out, love turns up in the heart,
When heart pursues it, love is in the mind, escaping wit.
Regarded at close range, love dissipates,
Leave it aside and love turns sad and grieves.
When loving is intense, love resists the long wait,
Like a lightning bolt, it streaks across the dark.
The kiss that sears is a kiss given only once,
And when the river swell, only once will flooding rise.
Love that is timid is a river still and currentless,
No falls nor torrents, no tears nor unbearable loss!
But when love has dared, the heart is swept away,
Honor, wealth and wisdom, love will drown them out!
When love is yet a bud, it heeds an elder’s counsel,
Such is not yet love, for it still sees the light.
But when it bursts aflame, what matter the universe —
That’s real love, so lose yourself in it with all your heart.
When you balk at the threat of ill fortune and hazard,
Truly your wit is lit and your mind at dull alert;
Your love is cautious yet, you have not
learned to really love,
For once in love, the grave itself is heaven’s gate.
Love has eyes, love is never blind,
having learned to love, one’s wounds turn into blossoms,
Love is selfish and cannot bear to share,
It’s either you get it all, or get nothing at all.
“Mother has been watching me, so I cannot write..”
Friend, that’s a sign you have yet to win her love.
But when she dares write even at her very grave site,
She has come to love you more than her very life.
All you, young people. who are in quest of love,
Moths who are fluttering around the lamplight,
Once in the grip of love, danger you will seek out,
Ready to love your wings to the very flames of love.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 7:40 PM UTC
But where is the place for the people like us?
The artists, the cutters, the solemn observers.
Every INFJ. Every poisoned mind. Every social awkward with so much depth they just might sink.
The ones who have found their soul but are searching for their mind.
The ones who find their mind by losing their marbles.
The misrepresented and misunderstood.
The hurt and the happy.
With a requirement of so much patience and love that no one is willing or able to give.
The ones who make adjustments.
Who hit rock bottom and manage to get back up on their own.
The ones who fall too fast for something out of reach. They end up quietly crashing and burning.
The ones who are living under layers of paint; on their hearts and in their homes. Whose sweetness and innocence are buried somewhere underneath the paint, barely recognizable.
The ones who were born with a fifty year old soul.
Who have a biologically memorized speech that no one will hear; that no one can hear.
I ask you, where will they go, the people like us?
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 9:07 PM UTC
she smells (nameless and shameless)
*a concoction of mixed aromas,
a once in a lifetime scent,
impossible to bottle,
impossible to name,
nameless and shameless
morning coffee, last nights vin rosé,
a come-a-little-closer-tasting for the summer solstice,
the stale of the evening meals of grains and kale,
the sour remains of bedroom sweat,
the displeasing scented sight of
sweat soiled clothes carelessly discarded
the first of the season red spot-stained white peonies
fail to mask the bodies aromatic musks,
which are mostly gender identifiable
my sneakers hail mary, her stockings odorize the atmosphere
most unusually, nylon and lycra are strangely familiar,
prior memorized perhaps, from deep within, a ****** hallelujah,
deep amidst where, the ***** linens are shelved and binned,
before they journey to the Egypt Nile of the basement waters
the burnt crumbs of illegal in-bed brioche toast
amazingly invisible on unclean sheets,
state “breakfast in bed, was yummy in the tummy,
but next time use a big dinner plate,
down here, the burnt of the bread and the burnt
of other things (popcorn pieces)
is just a scratchiest fragrance too far,
needing a sheet wiped clean slate
even the colorless and tasteless water
absorb the ionosphere of smells,
because one does usually speak poetically,
one of us makes a (vice) presidential declaration:
she smells, I man-ually stink, each,
each glower shower nower,
open the window to the spring wet grass aroma fresh cut,
to exhume and then send away
this odor now christened,*
nameless and shameless
11:47 28/4/19
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 10:25 AM UTC
Your voice, cinnamon kisses
Eyes- the sound of a wolf howling
Your every word sends a shiver up my spine
I haven't felt you yet but I know that when you say "I love you" I can feel every dip and curve of your body against mine and I've got you memorized
I don't know your taste but it already reminds me of the color salmon
You're my every sense,
my literal world
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 12:20 AM UTC
tempest aroused weather throws a crink in the atmospheric pressure,
sun lazy long weekend planned rejuvenation, disrupted,
all day rain and wind gusts
that whitecap/kneecap
the river-fed bay forcing a
couch-curling up, a doozey dozy,
cozy writable assessment, a
tempting
answered with
positivity
close your eyes and all that can be felt
is memorized by your
forefinger cells,
a stroking upward gesture,
your stroking. your finger.
the children you have brought
into this difficult place
and a woman’s face as she rests uneasy and needs calming
but the memory of your own cheek as a living fired thing
being stroked is a gone,
because it was not frequent enough,
is longer than long past than what matters now
my pointer finger remembers though
pointer finger points at my chest
stoking, pushing,
what does your artistic heart remember?
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 8:53 PM UTC
I said it, because it felt so nice to say and
because I can say it very well
-in the moment I meant it
but it's a bitter familiar spell
I've memorized the phonetic stitches the
spacing that knits a magic fleece that
when draped over the shoulders of the mightiest
turns them back to boys, gives full release
the belief
that love, real love, can be-
I can teach any man to fall in love with love...
just not in love with me.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC