Hello, beautiful readers! I hope you all are having a wonderful weekend. Mine has been filled with different events with friends. I am blessed to have several different friend groups that enjoy getting together and having fun. It refills my energy cup after an exhausting week.
Today, I am participating in Wea've Written Weekly's Prompt #235. Dennis invites us to write a poem about an abstraction as if it could think, speak, and act for itself. He asked us to consider what it might say or how might it behave. I decided to personify memory. I read once that teachers have over 1,000 thoughts a day while teaching. It's exhausting. I also know that my memory is faulty. So, I thought it would be fun to give my memory her own personality.
Memory's Burden
exhausted
that's what I am
your constant input of
unimportant information
makes keeping my filing cabinet
neat and organized
impossible
I attempted to keep moments
preciously grouped by
date and importance
but you overwhelm my synapses with
useless details
I tried going digital
to keep up with the times
to increase my space
but that made things worse
now information is being lost
to the deep crevices of our brain
before I can tag the file
for easy retrieval
I can't keep up
and you blame me for your inability
to remember past events
you show no gratitude
for my exhausting efforts
to keep you functioning
to the best of my ability
At this point
I give up
I'm going on vacation
and the new files can find their own
happy place to land
most of the input will be
useless, random crap
not worthy of filing anyway
so good luck
figuring it all out without me
maybe when I get back
you'll appreciate me a bit more
that is,
if you even notice
I've left
Would you like to write a poem for this prompt? Join us here.


I like your take on remembering! The pace is relentless!
ReplyDeleteYou brought this to mind from T.S.Eliot's "Murder in the Cathedral:
ReplyDeleteFirst Tempter:
Now that the King and you are in amity,
Clergy and laity may return to gaiety,
Mirth and sportfulness need not walk warily.
Thomas Becket:
You talk of seasons that are past. I remember.
First Tempter:
Not worth forgetting.