The name of the author is the first to go followed obediently by the title, the plot, the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain, to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag, and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps, the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember, it is not poised on the tip of your tongue, not even lurking in some obscure corner of your memories.
This is very poignant. It reminds me of people growing old and forgetting. I don't think they even consider books and capitals, but it makes it even sadder. Nice job.
Slly Rchl smtms frgts t s hr vwls. Hw cld sh frgt t s ths? Ths s th qstn tht wll ftn rs. Sh lks t kp ppl n thr ts.
r prhps i’s fr anthr rsn. t cld b cnsdrd wlly-nlly. Bt myb sh cmmttd trsn. nd sh’d rthr b sly thn slly.
Spoiler Alert! Translation:
Try to Read This
Silly Rachel sometimes forgets to use her vowels. How could she forget to use those? This is the question that will often arouse. She likes to keep people on their toes.
Or perhaps it’s for another reason. It could be considered willy-nilly. But maybe she committed treason. And she’d rather be sly than silly.
It seems as though Everyone wants to be remembered But only so few of us are We push through the crowd to be noticed Raise our hands when we don't know the answer To get a laugh To be seen as someone we're not But we can't always be who we think we are Smell the fresh rain Feel the hand press to your chest Embrace the love that matters Find safety In the forgotten And not being alone
She won't remember him when the lonely night is over, the neon signs grow dark and cold, and the city awakens. He will be nothing more than a face in the meaningless crowd that she has lost curiosity for. But when he sees her cross the street, her flaming hair dancing in the wind, he will close his eyes and relive that night; that moment of pure perfection when he captured her vulnerable heart. Even though her eyes were glazed and her words meant nothing, all he could see in her eyes was a world; an impossible place where she would remember. But they don't live there anymore. The sun comes up on the drowsy city and she forgets with her morning coffee. One cream, one sugar, one foggy memory
I'm sorry's and I love you's They tumble from your mouth like bombs from the sky Searing away my salty tears and trembling lips Tearing down my stone wall and memories of bitter resentment They leave me shattered and desperate So it always seems like you Are actually saving me Just like every other time you have cut me with your sharp words But I take your hand again Because you love me And you're sorry This time for certain Right? So I'll forgive you Again Because I need you It seems But know that I may forgive But I'll never, ever Forget
I feel like you decline with the person in this; as she gets more desperate the lines are shorter and uncertain. And the analogies in the beginning I love!
Dancing with her prince Beyond the enchanting garden wall. Sundress swirling with the breeze. Daddy's strong arms lift her up. Playful delight emanates from berry-stained lips.
A dainty blue flower tucked behind her ear Reflecting the frosty summer sky. Mingling with almond waves. Yes it is little But it is wild. A mirror of the lively face it adorns.
Laying in the grass Singing quietly to the sunset. Falling asleep in his arms As he whispers to her:
"When I'm old and gray And this day is but a thought If the colors of this flower fade I hope that you forgot me not."
I turn on the oven in my rather large and luxurious kitchen to make something to eat. That something I plan on eating is a meatloaf made of the highest quality meat and seasonings. I set the pan with the meat loaf in it on top of the oven waiting for the oven to preheat. The pan, unlike the rest of my kitchen, is in rather poor condition. It has an originally silver, but now charred and black, metal bottom and the slot for a wooden handle that has been broken off and must be grabbed with a towel when picked up. I walk into the other room and start watching television on my extremely small television while sitting in my reclining chair while I was waiting for the oven to preheat. The timer sounds so I walk into the kitchen and grab a towel and pick up my meatloaf pan and sick it in the oven. I shut the door and set the timer when the phone rings. I walk over to the counter where the phone is kept and answer it. It is my friend Paul. "Hello" I answer. "Hey it's Paul" says Paul, "I'm broke down about eight miles down the road from your house, can you come pick me up?" He continued. "Sure, just give me a minute and I'll be there" I stated. "Ok, see you in a minute, and drive careful, the roads are covered in ice" finished Paul. I hang up the phone and go out to my car. Its an old car, not a nice old car but an old Honda civic that's been on the road for to long. I get in my car and drive very slowly towards where Paul is. I quickly realize he was right when he said the roads were icy. It takes me about triple the amount of time than it should have, due to the icy conditions. I finally get there and Paul hops in the car. "Thanks for the ride" says Paul. "Don't mention it, you can call a tow truck and wait for it at my house" I replied. We slowly work our way back to my house and when we get there I realize that something horrible has happened. I forgot to turn the oven off when I left the house. The whole building was engulfed in flames. The black tar like smoke filled the air as everything I owned went up in a fiery blaze. We called the fire department but it was to late. The building and everything in it was gone.
She couldn't remember. No matter how hard she tried, she just kept forgetting. Day after day, just like clockwork. It was driving her crazy. All throughout the school day, she would plan it out in her head and mentally prepare herself to do it whenever she had free time, but it was no use. As soon as she would walk in her front door, it would fly right out of her mind, never returning until she was in bed, trying to fall asleep. It was an enormous struggle constantly forgetting to write her daily blog.
Looking ahead at house Seeing the beautiful structure Something seems to be wrong She can't pin point in Money on her mind Family in debt Suddenly, a bulldozer BOOM She looks ahead Nothing is there She now knows what's wrong Payments for months Not paid Loans Not deposited She lost everything Tears Family in emotional pain Forgetfulness
"Forget" was written on her mirror in red lipstick. Except it wasn't hers. Her screams shattered down the hall and through the empty house. She burned their pictures. She packed her stuff. She cut his clothes. And she dumped 'her' forgotten possessions off the balcony. Had he forgotten he was married? Had he forgotten he had a wife? And a baby on the way?
The name of the author is the first to go
ReplyDeletefollowed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your memories.
This is very poignant. It reminds me of people growing old and forgetting. I don't think they even consider books and capitals, but it makes it even sadder. Nice job.
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteTry t Rd Ths
ReplyDeleteSlly Rchl smtms frgts t s hr vwls.
Hw cld sh frgt t s ths?
Ths s th qstn tht wll ftn rs.
Sh lks t kp ppl n thr ts.
r prhps i’s fr anthr rsn.
t cld b cnsdrd wlly-nlly.
Bt myb sh cmmttd trsn.
nd sh’d rthr b sly thn slly.
Spoiler Alert! Translation:
Try to Read This
Silly Rachel sometimes forgets to use her vowels.
How could she forget to use those?
This is the question that will often arouse.
She likes to keep people on their toes.
Or perhaps it’s for another reason.
It could be considered willy-nilly.
But maybe she committed treason.
And she’d rather be sly than silly.
What a creative approach to the prompt! Excellent.
DeleteIt seems as though
ReplyDeleteEveryone wants to be remembered
But only so few of us are
We push through the crowd to be noticed
Raise our hands when we don't know the answer
To get a laugh
To be seen as someone we're not
But we can't always be who we think we are
Smell the fresh rain
Feel the hand press to your chest
Embrace the love that matters
Find safety
In the forgotten
And not being alone
So sweet! It's good to be ordinary.
DeleteShe won't remember him
ReplyDeletewhen the lonely night is over,
the neon signs grow dark and cold,
and the city awakens.
He will be nothing more
than a face in the meaningless crowd
that she has lost curiosity for.
But when he sees her cross the street,
her flaming hair dancing in the wind,
he will close his eyes and relive that night;
that moment of pure perfection
when he captured her vulnerable heart.
Even though her eyes were glazed
and her words meant nothing,
all he could see in her eyes was a world;
an impossible place where she would remember.
But they don't live there anymore.
The sun comes up on the drowsy city
and she forgets with her morning coffee.
One cream, one sugar,
one foggy memory
Oh Lord. This is beautiful.
DeleteI'm sorry's and I love you's
ReplyDeleteThey tumble from your mouth like bombs from the sky
Searing away my salty tears and trembling lips
Tearing down my stone wall
and memories of bitter resentment
They leave me shattered and desperate
So it always seems like you
Are actually saving me
Just like every other time you have cut me with your sharp words
But I take your hand again
Because you love me
And you're sorry
This time for certain
Right?
So I'll forgive you
Again
Because I need you
It seems
But know that I may forgive
But I'll never, ever
Forget
I feel like you decline with the person in this; as she gets more desperate the lines are shorter and uncertain. And the analogies in the beginning I love!
DeleteHOW AM I ONLY READING THIS NOW?! AHHHHH!
DeleteDancing with her prince
ReplyDeleteBeyond the enchanting garden wall.
Sundress swirling with the breeze.
Daddy's strong arms lift her up.
Playful delight emanates from berry-stained lips.
A dainty blue flower tucked behind her ear
Reflecting the frosty summer sky.
Mingling with almond waves.
Yes it is little
But it is wild.
A mirror of the lively face it adorns.
Laying in the grass
Singing quietly to the sunset.
Falling asleep in his arms
As he whispers to her:
"When I'm old and gray
And this day is but a thought
If the colors of this flower fade
I hope that you forgot me not."
This comment has been removed by the author.
DeleteThis was so beautiful it brought tears to my eyes! It's like that precious memory we all want to hold on to
DeleteThat last stanza is beyond beautiful
DeleteI turn on the oven in my rather large and luxurious kitchen to make something to eat. That something I plan on eating is a meatloaf made of the highest quality meat and seasonings. I set the pan with the meat loaf in it on top of the oven waiting for the oven to preheat. The pan, unlike the rest of my kitchen, is in rather poor condition. It has an originally silver, but now charred and black, metal bottom and the slot for a wooden handle that has been broken off and must be grabbed with a towel when picked up. I walk into the other room and start watching television on my extremely small television while sitting in my reclining chair while I was waiting for the oven to preheat. The timer sounds so I walk into the kitchen and grab a towel and pick up my meatloaf pan and sick it in the oven. I shut the door and set the timer when the phone rings. I walk over to the counter where the phone is kept and answer it. It is my friend Paul. "Hello" I answer.
ReplyDelete"Hey it's Paul" says Paul, "I'm broke down about eight miles down the road from your house, can you come pick me up?" He continued.
"Sure, just give me a minute and I'll be there" I stated.
"Ok, see you in a minute, and drive careful, the roads are covered in ice" finished Paul. I hang up the phone and go out to my car. Its an old car, not a nice old car but an old Honda civic that's been on the road for to long. I get in my car and drive very slowly towards where Paul is. I quickly realize he was right when he said the roads were icy. It takes me about triple the amount of time than it should have, due to the icy conditions. I finally get there and Paul hops in the car. "Thanks for the ride" says Paul.
"Don't mention it, you can call a tow truck and wait for it at my house" I replied. We slowly work our way back to my house and when we get there I realize that something horrible has happened. I forgot to turn the oven off when I left the house. The whole building was engulfed in flames. The black tar like smoke filled the air as everything I owned went up in a fiery blaze. We called the fire department but it was to late. The building and everything in it was gone.
We start each day with the same routine
ReplyDeleteGet up, get showered get cleaned.
Some drink coffee some drink tea
Neither are for me!
We rush around getting things together
Especially if it's bad weather.
It's time to go it's getting late you see
Of course wouldn't you know it I forgot my car key!
She couldn't remember. No matter how hard she tried, she just kept forgetting. Day after day, just like clockwork. It was driving her crazy. All throughout the school day, she would plan it out in her head and mentally prepare herself to do it whenever she had free time, but it was no use. As soon as she would walk in her front door, it would fly right out of her mind, never returning until she was in bed, trying to fall asleep. It was an enormous struggle constantly forgetting to write her daily blog.
ReplyDeleteMind blank
ReplyDeleteThoughts confused
Busyness
absent minded
Why did I have to forget
Looking ahead at house
ReplyDeleteSeeing the beautiful structure
Something seems to be wrong
She can't pin point in
Money on her mind
Family in debt
Suddenly, a bulldozer
BOOM
She looks ahead
Nothing is there
She now knows what's wrong
Payments for months
Not paid
Loans
Not deposited
She lost everything
Tears
Family in emotional pain
Forgetfulness
"Forget" was written on her mirror in red lipstick.
ReplyDeleteExcept it wasn't hers.
Her screams shattered down the hall and through the empty house.
She burned their pictures.
She packed her stuff.
She cut his clothes.
And she dumped 'her' forgotten possessions off the balcony.
Had he forgotten he was married?
Had he forgotten he had a wife?
And a baby on the way?