Miscellaneous Writings and Musings


A genie and her rock band

(Novel and Short Stories)

Steal Tomorrow

Steal Tomorrow
Murder, Mystery, First Love, and the End of the World

(Novel and Short Stories)

My Books and Stories

My Books and Stories
Where to Buy, Read, Download

Tabula Rasa

I would be a blank slate,
stripped of memory,
(stripped of you)
my thoughts wiped clean
with a little discernment.

Rid of recollection,
no need to fear
the sticks and stones
that break my bones
break my heart
break my mind;
remembrances that polarize
and become identity
all too soon
(not soon enough)

Perhaps I'll cast my lot with sinners
or selflessly side with angels.
More likely I'll put a posey in my pocket,
clench a clover in my fist,
and hope for the best.

So take me to the river of forgetting.
Build the bonfire high.
Tonight I'll cast remembrance 
to the flames,
and after mark my face
with the ashes that remain.

This was written for The Sunday Whirl.


J Cosmo Newbery said...

With the opening stanza I thought you were heading down the Alzheimer's line.

September 28, 2014 at 1:25 AM
Old Egg said...

I wonder how many of us will relate to your words which describe that dreadful loneliness of lost love. Curiously having experienced it the value of true love is enhanced many times.

September 28, 2014 at 1:50 AM
Jae Rose said...

I love that posy of clover in your pocket...part of the ritual of cleansing all things bad...i wonder if a mind can truly ever be wiped clean...even if the mind forgets the body still remembers..i really got caught caught up in the flow..like I was silently chanting a wish with the narrator...for something better

September 28, 2014 at 3:44 AM
vivinfrance said...

A lovely poem, the words today lent themselves to wistfulness.

September 28, 2014 at 5:00 AM
brenda w said...

Your final stanza wraps it up with familiarity and a ritual for letting go. Well-penned.

September 28, 2014 at 8:23 AM
annell4 said...

I liked it! No I think our memories are always with us, we may think we have forgotten, but they pop up when least expected....one wonders where they have been hiding to return so real!

September 28, 2014 at 9:35 AM
thewritersvillage said...

I like the sound, the beat, of your poem. I read it aloud a couple of times. It reads very nicely. Good job. Randy

September 28, 2014 at 2:00 PM
Cathy said...

Last stanza is just prefect and the rest is beautifully done.

September 28, 2014 at 3:51 PM
Anonymous said...

A remarkable expression of our we if allow our experiences to affect our mind they may shape who we become.

September 28, 2014 at 7:12 PM
flaubert said...

Nicely done, Ann. Full of whismy.


September 28, 2014 at 10:45 PM
Alice Audrey said...

Sounds like some bridge burning going on, but at least a blank slate will let you move in a new direction.

September 30, 2014 at 12:26 AM
Anonymous said...

I especially liked the line about casting remembrance to the flames.

July 2, 2015 at 4:41 PM

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