Forgetfulness is a common experience that we all encounter at some point in our lives. It can be frustrating, embarrassing, and even scary at times, but it is also a natural part of being human. Despite our best efforts to remember everything, our minds are bound to let us down from time to time.
One poem that captures the experience of forgetfulness is "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot. The speaker in the poem is struggling to remember the words and actions that would make him feel more confident and capable in social situations. He is tormented by his own forgetfulness, constantly reminding himself of all the things he should have said or done differently in the past.
The speaker's forgetfulness is also tied to his feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt. He feels that he is not good enough, that he has nothing to offer, and that he will always be forgotten. This sense of worthlessness is compounded by his inability to remember the things that would make him feel more confident and capable.
Despite the speaker's despair, the poem also suggests that forgetfulness can be a source of resilience and renewal. The speaker acknowledges that he is "not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be," but instead is "an attendant lord." In other words, he is not meant to be the hero of the story, but rather a supporting character. This realization allows him to let go of his expectations and embrace his own limitations, including his forgetfulness.
In the end, the poem suggests that forgetfulness is not a flaw, but rather a natural part of being human. It is something we all struggle with, and it can be a source of both frustration and resilience. By acknowledging and embracing our forgetfulness, we can learn to let go of our expectations and find a sense of acceptance and peace.
Rest assured that you will find throughout the coming years These fallen warriors will return in the hearts of all their peers! Tears are falling constantly. 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 spleen. I sat and thought about what moment would always make me smile. My heart hurts every day. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there. Billy Collins has been called 'The most popular poet in America' by the New York Times.
I saw my friends, not dead, but here with me, And realized what my life had come to be. The door burst open, a man with a gun, And we all realized our time was done. It has floated away down a dark mythological river whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall, well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle. So take it as a lesson, whether you're young or old. Poem About Gifts Of Loving Memories Your face frozen in blissful eternal sleep now. The soldiers who made the ultimate sacrifice represent the heart and soul of what our great country had been built upon.
You've joined the ranks of everyone Who fought so freedom could be won. Have no more worries or fear for me. In Loving Memory Poems The act of creating a poem is a memorial for one who has passed away. For I'd want you to know, before your spirit had to depart, That you had left love's precious gifts for a grieving heart. A candle flickers out of sight, but in your heart I still burn bright.
This arm beneath your head! Who makes me smile at life's irony That other people often cannot see. Only flowers I now can give you, Which I place down where you lie. I could choose a time of laughing, a time of happiness and fun. Behind my decorative pillow, I found popcorn and the remote for the TV along with a black-laced bra that I hope belongs to me! The saints will take good care of you, But there is still a lot to do. This poem was written for a friend whose love is now sadly dearly departed. Yes, all of these situations mentioned in the poem did happen to me.
I can't express how much you taught me, So much I can't explain. There was nothing anyone could do or say. Although it's sad, you could've been me. You went on ahead of us, as you answered the call. Everyone in America should be made aware of what these people have given up.
Death, don't be proud for what you took, they freely gave away. . I haven't stopped crying since you went away, and I've asked God time and time why you couldn't stay. We were all scared and some started to cry, But a little confidence bubbled up on my inside. It is an act of spirituality. Sometimes my mind wanders from everyday practicalities and thinks loftier thoughts. Now during the past two years, I am exploring the path of poetry.
Joking About Forgetfulness, Forgetful, Funny Life Poem
I could choose a time that tried me through everything I've done. The dead bring memories of joy and sorrows For loved ones walking among the silent rows; Some stand by graves in hushed reflection. It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead. Don't worry, I'll always be here. You are hidden in our hearts, and we'll always hold you dear. But all your helpful teachings Are always here to stay. In memory of my dad.
So cry now, if you must, but remember your tears are for you, not for me. ABOUT THE POET: During my life's journey, I have been an elementary school teacher, a professional puppeteer, and a painter. I don't go out, got feet of clay. No wonder you rise in the middle of the nightto look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war. 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 spleen. No kisses can I give you Or birthday gifts to buy.
I know you're here so want to stay. They often skipped a meal or two, but they never missed a fight. But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. Think not of sadness, that I'm not near, think of gladness and joyous cheer. The thoughts for this poem came to mind as I sat looking across those rows of many memories and sorrows.
I'm not sure how hard to try. Who will read the pages of your story? I'll see you soon in paradise, and together we'll reminisce. The breeze gently blowing through my hair Telling me that you are still there. The cup from which you drank tea alone behind the door, Left abandoned like a friend not needed anymore. I could hold it close forever, and that moment would always last. The road that leads from the steamy heat of the southern summer to the dry cold of the high desert winter runs through many towns and jobs and lives.