The word hovers
Just outside my grasp
Like a bee hovering
Between two flowers
Not knowing
Which one to serve first
The name bounces
Off the walls of my skull
Like a ping pong ball
Bouncing off the table
Impossible
To recall
The location could as well
Be in outer space
Like a place on the
Dark side of the moon
Somehow familiar
But not reached
My memory is
Trapped between two flowers
Bouncing off to somewhere
In outer space
Never to be seen
Or heard of again
-
Author:
Alfred Peyer (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 1st, 2017 03:25
- Comment from author about the poem: The older I get, the less I remember The older I get the less I care
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 41
Offline)
Comments10
I know exactly what you
Thanks Frank, I love your ......? Is it "comment" maybe? Oh, what the heck, I love what you wrote!
You describe it all well here Fred - memory can play such tricks with age.
What really bugs me is if a word I know I should know simply isn't there. It does appear eventually, but by that time it is usually too late.
bless you my lovely, what a nice and poignant poem to write. we all certainly hear you so hope that helps you a little x
Thanks Kevin, it helps to know that I am not alone with this "problem". Overall I should not complain, at least I still know my name!
Oh!! Fred I feel your pain.
I too have the memory
Of a gnat...great poem..
The words are just there
But for some reason
Someone's put a door there..
So bloody annoying!!!!!!
Thanks P.H., yes there is a door there. Thankfully most of the time it is open. Just imagine if it would be locked and you cannot find the key.
I honestly think that is
How I will end up.....
You speak for all of us who are 'of a certain age', Fred! well written poem. I've written one on the subject as well, which I'll present soon.
Thanks Louis, I am looking forward to reading it!
What a perfect description of those stutters! Sometimes it's so close I could trip over it, and other times it's washed spotless. I'm certain I've lost brain cells each year past 35. I think my three curtain climbers helped induce the fog.
Somebody once said: Don't worry about little things - everything is little things. I've come to accept the occasional lapses. Found that the more you concentrate on them, the worse it gets. Thank you for your comment, it is always appreciated.
Oh, you describe it sooooo well!
Welcome to the club, Augustus!
The good thing about being older is that one can blame everything on being older. Lovely way of writing.
Thank you malu,
The nice thing about being a senior is that now I can say anything I want. Nobody gets upset, cause "he's just an old fart"!
You see. Not everything is bad.
I too find it easier on my mind when I go out among other people and they see my toothless jaw sagging and two hearing aids I have to wear. is it me or them? I just don't know, but I do know it feels good.lol
Pauly,
who cares about teeth or hearing aids, you are you and that is it.
Good write and very true, it is amazing the words and names that I couldn't recall during the day come to me about 3 o'clock in the morning!
At least you remember, just don't call them then!
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