Fate inflicts grief
As it vanishes memory,
Like a practiced thief
Would rape ones mind,
And so quite wretchedly
Held memory be damned
To now but hollow find,
And ne’er recall again
For wouldst chose hide,
What years made gather
All matter lived inside,
Hence leave me wonder
Where now my words do bide!
Poetry on a canapé 
This is powerful and I have to ask, is everything okay? Can’t help wondering if this is personal, in this poem with something happening now. I care about you. That aside, it’s an incredible poem!
Paulette, my dear friend… I am both touched, and appreciative of your response to my latest poem. Touched by your concern and care. Appreciative of your reaction, as to the strength of the poem. As for me personally, I am as okay as anyone who is somewhat past the age of forty. That as you know is when memory starts its normal downward trend, varying according to their mental health, feed, and occupation.
In spite of my constant exposure to keeping memory in a positive posture, nature will have its say, and like most there are times when that word or name has to contend with aging, ergo floating more slowly to the surface. Imagining my fellow beings who are not as fortunate with their recall capacity inspired this poem. Thank you so very much Paulette, for the high praise you have given it. It is a subject that sadly does indeed eventually affect a large majority of fellow beings. Jean-Jacques
Very true and thank you back for this. Appreciated.
I love this… I know how you feel. In my case, medication plays a big roll in my memory loss. I hate it but have to follow the doctor’s orders. 🙂
Thank you my friend… Well I don’t suffer anything near what you describe, but I can only hope that my level of memory is in the normal range, and will not change too drastically. Jean-Jacques
Memories!!! Ah, they are indeed powerful. Have you noticed that memories are the one thing that connects us to time and space? We are able to go back to a moment, long past. In our everyday busyness, we take memory as a “given” rather than a privilege. These words are a reminder to cherish our memories – they are more precious that gold, position, status.
“Fate inflicts grief
As it vanishes memory,
Like a practiced thief.”
Ah dear, dear Rebecca… believe me when I tell you I do not take memory as a given. I have spent too many times frustrated from not being able to bring to fore a word, a name, or a place, etc, not to realize how precious it is, and sadly how illusive it has the potential of becoming. As I write these very words, I have my mental fingers crossed that memory remains suitably intact. Jean-Jacques