Memory Poems
In The Droving Days
by Banjo Paterson
"Only a pound," said the auctioneer,
"Only a pound; and I'm standing here
Selling this animal, gain or loss --
Only a pound for the drover's horse?
One of the sort that was ne'er afraid,
One of the boys of the Old Brigade;
Thoroughly honest and game, I'll swear,
Only a little the worse for wear;
Plenty as bad to be seen in town,
Give me a bid and I'll knock him down;
......
Grandma's Apron
by Ruth Stuart
I can still see grandma's apron
she wore most everyday.
At night time it was folded
and, on the foot of her bed it lay. She wore it to protect her dresses,
from all her daily chores.
While washing all the dishes
and scrubbing all the floors. The memory of all her aprons
are with us day to day.
With their many faded spots
Where she dried our tears away. Some are torn and tattered
......
An Anatomy Of The World...
by John Donne
When that rich soul which to her heaven is gone,
Whom all do celebrate, who know they have one
(For who is sure he hath a soul, unless
It see, and judge, and follow worthiness,
And by deeds praise it? He who doth not this,
May lodge an inmate soul, but 'tis not his)
When that queen ended here her progress time,
And, as t'her standing house, to heaven did climb,
Where loath to make the saints attend her long,
She's now a part both of the choir, and song;
......
Memory
by William Wordsworth
A pen--to register; a key--
That winds through secret wards
Are well assigned to Memory
By allegoric Bards.
As aptly, also, might be given
A Pencil to her hand;
That, softening objects, sometimes even
Outstrips the heart's demand;
......
In School-Days
by John Greenleaf Whittier
Still sits the school-house by the road,
A ragged beggar sleeping;
Around it still the sumachs grow,
And blackberry-vines are creeping.
Within, the master's desk is seen,
Deep-scarred by raps official;
The warping floor, the battered seats,
The jack-knife's carved initial;
......
Evening Serenade
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
The same haunting melody each time
ever the same when full moon climbs;
It is the sweet song of fuchsia twilight,
sung by the mystery bird each night.
An unknown bird, red and lilac tinged,
daily sings skies, from gold to orange,
Searing sunset into heart and memory,
It's the same song, never does it vary.
The Place Most Loved
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Ada Scott was a widowed old woman, living in rolling hills country;
In jade, flowering days of full sun, when ecstatic bees made honey.
She lived in the same cottage she was born, quite a long time ago;
On a night of amaranth starlight, when moon peered into windows.
She was well known and loved in the neighborhood, like red robin;
And participated in church activities, like caring deeds, unforgotten.
Ada and friends went to Friday fairs, and offered fresh pies for sale;
......
Plaits
by Eleni Dounis
im in the steep hill
the hikers tred on
and so do the bears
in your necklace
in the silver
it runs in my wrist
and in the rope
the plaited hairs
......
A Couch Conversation
by Eleni Dounis
i saw god when i was nine
he sat on the couch with me
i stood up out of respect and so did he
he is better than us all
and yet he won’t let us feel it
i asked him why he loved me
he said he couldn’t help it
i saw god again when i was twelve
he pushed me on the swings
......
The Universe Looking Back
by Eleni Dounis
you never know what's going on
on Jupiter
everything you see
has happened forty minutes ago
a lifetime stretched
in between the miles that cover
what we call a distance
but know to be a tragedy
......
