#memory poetry

[sweetums0kitty]

To Hans’s daughter

I’m sorry we only knew each other for one day. Yet only one day was needed to sear you into my memory. You with your Ariel pajamas, you let me wear without hesitation. Ready to open your home and arms to a girl as aimless and lost as I. Though we only met once you have secured yourself in my mind as a kind and generous figure. I mourn the loss of our friendship everyday. We could have had what our fathers did. But we’re deprived by the divide of religious sects. I one without faith and you raised within it. If we should ever meet again my dear, I hope you should greet me with the same warmth and kindness as you did back then.

Love, your ever faithful friend for one day.

[muchlovefleursblog]

[mindrottinglystupid]

A Place of Memories

When I see you

What will I remember

That I have locked away

Will I not think of you

But someone else

Or will I think of you

And no one else

What if I don’t see you

But the one person I don’t want to see

I know I’ll see them 

It’s not like I can’t

But do I have to be there with you

Couldn’t you have moved

It wouldn’t have hurt 

Not you

Not me

No one

[reesestshirt]

When I was in middle school, I tried to learn how to crochet. I knew how to knit already, so I figured ‘how hard could it be’ and used my Christmas money on a brand new set of aluminum hooks and a how-to book.

To say it was difficult was an understatement. I spent hours pouring over my book, begging to gain some inkling of understanding from what felt like incomprehensible runes. My reward? One lopsided trapezoid of lumpy fabric and a resolve to never pick up a crochet hook again.

And so life went on, I finished middle school and high school without giving crochet so much as a second glance. In college, I read about how crochet couldn’t be replicated by a machine, it was unique in a way that knitting and many other fiber arts weren’t.

For Christmas last year, my girlfriend gave me what I now consider to be my most prized possession: a crocheted plush of my favorite pokemon. I raved over her skills and, since she never learned how to knit, we decided to have a yarn date at some point and teach each other our respective skills.

We never did get around to that yarn date. She passed a few months after our declaration, leaving me to inherit what was left of her yarn.

Nearly a decade after my initial attempt, I got ready for the toughest battle of my life. My weapons? One skein of yarn, a YouTube video, and a crochet hook that I had somehow never gotten rid of.

I slowly made my way through the video, redoing my work a couple times until I was satisfied with my product: a small, slightly misshapen rectangle.

I looked at my pristinely-made pokemon plush with hope for the first time in months and thought to myself, ‘maybe crocheting isn’t the hardest thing in the world, maybe you were just 12.’

Maybe this isn’t the hardest thing in the world. Maybe I’m just 21.

[feral-ballad]

Linda Pastan, from Waiting for My Life: Poems; "What We Want"

[Text ID: "and in the morning / our arms ache. / We don't remember the dream, / but the dream remembers us."]

[hussyknee]

Her final tweet on October 8 reads:

“Gaza’s night is dark apart from the glow of rockets, quiet apart from the sound of the bombs, terrifying apart from the comfort of prayer, black apart from the light of the martyrs. Good night, Gaza.”

[myfakeplasticlove13]

I guess some things you can never leave behind, they don’t belong to the past. They belong to you :,)

[luthienne]

George Seferis, from Collected Poems; "Memory I" (tr. Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard)

[Text ID: I whispered: memory hurts wherever you touch it,]

[musings-n-museums]

i'm gonna make them so proud.

quote, @plumslices \\ i will, mitski \\ photo from pinterest \\ never grow up, taylor swift \\ photo from pinterest \\ quote, lalah delia \\ the best day, taylor swift \\ photo from pinterest \\ quote, @mounaks (could not find their acc) \\ both last photos from pinterest

[romarisea]

George Seferis, tr. by Edmund Keeley & Philip Sherrard from, “Memory I.” [ID in alt text]

[asoftepiloguemylove]

Mikko Harvey Wind-Related in the Wheatfield // Jonny Bolduc open question @jovialtorchlight // Cheryl Strayed Tiny Beautiful Things // @/mkpoet (instagram) // Mary Oliver Count the Roses // Phoebe Bridgers Waiting Room // Fyodor Dostoyevsky // Marie Howe Magdalene Afterwards; "Magdalene: Poems"

[bluberry-parfait]

@i-wrotethisforme // Jorge Louis Berges // @smokeinsilence //@viridianmasquerade //Jorge Louis Berges // @honeytuesday // Kaveh Akbar // F. Scott Fitzgerald // AKR //Olivie Blake, from “Alone With You in the Ether” // Kaveh Akbar, Pilgrimage

[metamorphesque]

— Joseph Brodsky, Hope Against Hope: A Memoir

[derangedrhythms]

Anna Akhmatova, The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova: Reed; from ‘The Sentence’, tr. Judith Hemschemeyer

[sicknessinmotion]

A REAL DANGER LIES IN MEMORIES.

@/mkpoet on instagram // eric gamalinda // l. m. montgomery // kaveh akbar // mahmoud darwish // hieu minh nguyen.

[feral-ballad]

Sonia Sanchez, from Like the singing coming off the drums: Love Poems; “Remembering and Honoring Toni Cade Bambara”

[Text ID: “i have stored in my / blood the / memory of your voice”]