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Tagore once said, “It’s a blessing that I keep forgetting the
tunes I have given to my songs otherwise all songs would have similar tunes.” I
am also glad that there is a filtering mechanism like forgetfulness so that we
are not overloaded with every single detail encountered in life. We accept it
as long as it is not persistent and doesn’t interfere much with our daily life.
Forgetfulness is today’s theme. In your poems you might either
highlight the positive or the negative attributes about forgetfulness. There
might be some hilarious moments or embarrassing ones because of this; or how you
might choose to forget someone’s faults for a better relationship; or recount
those moments when you see memories slipping away from you. Your words might
also be a homage to someone who is suffering from memory loss. You may also choose
to write about those moments one cannot afford to forget.
Here are some poems :
Flame-Heart
by Claude McKay
So much have I forgotten
in ten years,
So much in ten brief years; I have forgot
What time the purple apples come to juice
And what month brings the shy forget-me-not;
Forgotten is the special, startling season
Of some beloved tree’s flowering and fruiting,
What time of year the ground doves brown the fields
And fill the noonday with their curious fluting:
I have forgotten much, but still remember
The poinsettia’s red, blood-red in warm December.
I still recall the
honey-fever grass,
But I cannot bring back to mind just when
We rooted them out of the ping-wing path
To stop the mad bees in the rabbit pen.
I often try to think in what sweet month
The languid painted ladies used to dapple
The yellow bye road mazing from the main,
Sweet with the golden threads of the rose-apple:
I have forgotten, strange, but quite remember
The poinsettia’s red, blood-red in warm December.
What weeks, what months,
what time o’ the mild year
We cheated school to have our fling at tops?
What days our wine-thrilled bodies pulsed with joy
Feasting upon blackberries in the copse?
Oh, some I know! I have embalmed the days,
Even the sacred moments, when we played,
All innocent of passion uncorrupt.
At noon and evening in the flame-heart’s shade:
We were so happy, happy,—I remember
Beneath the poinsettia’s red in warm December.
Aftermath
by Siegfried Sassoon
Have you forgotten
yet?...
For the world's events have rumbled on since
those gagged days,
Like traffic checked while at the crossing of
city-ways:
And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with
thoughts that flow
Like clouds in the lit heaven of life; and
you're a man reprieved to go,
Taking your peaceful share of Time, with joy to
spare.
But the past is just the same--and War's a
bloody game...
Have you forgotten yet?...
Look down, and swear by the slain of the War
that you'll never forget.
Do you remember the dark months you held the
sector at Mametz--
The nights you watched and wired and dug and
piled sandbags on parapets?
Do you remember the rats; and the stench
Of corpses rotting in front of the front-line
trench--
And dawn coming, dirty-white, and chill with a
hopeless rain?
Do you ever stop and ask, 'Is it all going to
happen again?'
Do you remember that hour of din before the
attack--
And the anger, the blind compassion that seized
and shook you then
As you peered at the doomed and haggard faces of
your men?
Do you remember the stretcher-cases lurching
back
With dying eyes and lolling heads--those
ashen-grey
Masks of the lads who once were keen and kind
and gay?
Have you forgotten yet?...
Look up, and swear by the green of the spring
that you'll never forget.
A Patch
Of Old Snow
by Robert Frost
There's a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have
guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to
rest.
It is speckled with grime as if
Small print
overspread it,
The news of a day I’ve forgotten—
If I ever read it.
Please link one poem that is your response to the
material of this prompt. When you link your poem please visit other links in
the spirit of the community
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