Poems about Memory poems

It was a happening, a moment in time, some fifty years ago.I rememberthe pull on my shirt, a plaintive voicea cry for help, the revulsionthat I felt.For standing there, Iraqi girl, age clo

You are abruptly lostLike a kiteflying on raw threadsYour loss is my memoryYour face hangs in the skyAgainst the windOh! your memory! my words are far away from The metaphors that could h

Homework, said my teacher, Is to write a poem, About your fondestChildhood memoryImmediately, I began to shakeAnd within minutesA cold sweat had Come over meI had dreaded, Absolutely dreade

Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies, Made in the last promotion of the Blest;Whose palms, new pluck'd from Paradise,In spreading branches more sublimely rise,Rich with immortal green abov

I speak to you easily, shadowy figure in my mmeory, reliving all your picaresque adventurespulled out as from a volume on a shelf, dazzled by all the color and the drama, each episode pulling Li

Oh Britain! dear Isle, when the annals of story Shall tell of the deeds that thy children have done, When the strains of each poet shall sing of their glory, And the triumphs their skill and their

To finger-sponge crust crumbs of fruit meringue (Grass prickling through the blanket-tablecloth); To climb the shading oak; to roll and hang Inverted from a branch, as if a sloth; And, after dropp

So bends beneath the storm yon balmy flow'r,Whose spicy blossoms once perfum'd the gale;So press'd with tears reclines yon lily pale,Obedient to the rude and beating show'r. Still is the LARK, th

Circa 1904 -- Done out of Boethius by Geoffrey ChaucerBlessed was our first age and morning-time. Then were nowaies tarren, ne no cars numberen, but each followed his owneplaying-busyness

A gentle touch upon the forearmwith a hand, gloved or warm with life, outside the church door; turning away from the open grave; by that concrete placewhere they lay the floral tributesby the c

I can almost see you from my windowthe way you sauntered up to my door.How you would always look at the mailboxlike you'd never been here before.The visions of you surround me.Your memory is sti

SO shuts the marigold her leaves At the departure of the sun;So from the honeysuckle sheaves The bee goes when the day is done;So sits the turtle when she is but one,And so all woe, as I since sh