A Poem Lost Poem by John Carter Brown
A Poem Lost
As I lay in my bed, unable to sleep
I composed a good poem I wanted to keep;
It kept going round and around in my head
(I should have been bothered to write it all down)
But decided, by rote, to remember instead.
Once honed, I repeated, lest I should forget
It felt so secure in my mind there, and yet
Time and again I have made this mistake
I should have got up, or at least stayed awake.
In spite of persisting I was not receiving
No matter my anger, there was no retrieving
And so, after all, I now know to my cost
This delicate whisper,
This poem, is lost.
-
(Written Oct 2012)
Me too! Sometimes I even think about writing a poem just like this one :)
hahaha... John, it happens to me most; a little sleep, alittle slumber, then all is lost. But it comes back to us in a different form.
You communicate adroitly a poet's plight. Paper and pencil, paper and pencil, always within reach is my rule.
WHY does poetry come to one's mind at 2 o'clock in the morning? ! WHY? ! It always comes just when one wants to do nothing but fall asleep in peace. Instead, you've got this enchanting firefly of inspiration buzzing within you, forcing you to remember. But then what happens? Morning comes, and it's gone! GONE! I definitely gave this a ten! It's so relatable!
Well said. I don't want to call it laziness but it happens to me sometimes. You forget it if you keep it for later and it will be a loss.
This has happened to me a number of times. Welcome to the club! Oh, I see that I already commented on this back in 2015. Almost nine years ago, so forgive me for not remembering!
This has happened to me so many times! It happened again less than a week ago. One of my poems is on this same subject. It's called THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY. Reminds me of a writer who had a similar problem. He was always having good ideas in the middle of the night, and in the morning he could remember that he had had a good idea, but couldn't remember what it was. So one night he put a notebook and pencil by his bed and kept telling himself as he was falling asleep: 'Write it down! Write it down! ' In the middle of the night he sat upright in bed, grabbed the notebook and scribbled something in it. The next morning he looked at the notebook to see what he had written. It was 'Write it down! '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
12/5/2025 2:15:14 AM # 1.0.0
Nice poem John, I can relate to what you said hahaha.