Memory Poems - Poems For Memory

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In Memory Of My Mother - Poem by Patrick Kavanagh

I do not think of you lying in the wet clay
Of a Monaghan graveyard; I see
You walking down a lane among the poplars
On your way to the station, or happily

Going to second Mass on a summer Sunday -
You meet me and you say:
'Don't forget to see about the cattle - '
Among your earthiest words the angels stray.

And I think of you walking along a headland
Of green oats in June,
So full of repose, so rich with life -
And I see us meeting at the end of a town

On a fair day by accident, after
The bargains are all made and we can walk
Together through the shops and stalls and markets
Free in the oriental streets of thought.

O you are not lying in the wet clay,
For it is a harvest evening now and we
Are piling up the ricks against the moonlight
And you smile up at us - eternally.

Comments about In Memory Of My Mother by Patrick Kavanagh

  • Adeeb Alfateh 3/2/2020 3:29:00 AM

    such a lovely great remembrance poem penned.........great 10++ Reply

    2 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Dr Tony Brahmin 1/29/2020 6:25:00 AM

    And I think of you walking along a headland
    Of green oats in June,
    So full of repose, so rich with life -
    And I see us meeting at the end of a town.. In sweet remembrance of the loving mother..lovely poem. tony

    3 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Dana Ghaffari 1/27/2020 1:19:00 PM

    heartbreaking....loved it.... Reply

    3 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Morgan Michaels 12/4/2019 9:44:00 PM

    Heartbreaking. Surreal because so real. Reply

    3 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Chinedu Dike 10/21/2019 7:51:00 PM

    Well articulated and nicely brought forth from inner recesses of the heart. A beautiful creation, very heartfelt. Reply

    3 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Big man 10/2/2019 7:01:00 AM

    Mans gonna shank fortnite hacker Reply

    4 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Jimmy 4/11/2019 4:07:00 AM

    Class poem this poem is class I’m gonna call you name now John gold Reply

    4 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Fortnite hacker 4/3/2019 3:31:00 AM

    This is copyright ©COPYRIGHT I WILL HACK EVERYBODY👹👹✌🏼👣👣🤮👹👹🤬 Reply

    3 person liked.
    5 person did not like.
  • Fortnite hacker 4/3/2019 3:31:00 AM

    This is copyright ©COPYRIGHT I WILL HACK EVERYBODY👹👹✌🏼👣👣🤮👹👹🤬 Reply

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  • Coco Chanel 4/3/2019 3:26:00 AM

    Why did he say and you smile up at us- eternally Reply

    Smackdo (3/22/2020 6:41:00 AM)

    They are on top of the hay rick and she is standing in the farmyard.

    3 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 36 comments »
Memory Poems
  1. 1. In Memory Of My Mother
    Patrick Kavanagh
  2. 2. Memory Of My Father
    Patrick Kavanagh
  3. 3. After The Funeral (In Memory Of Ann Jones)
    Dylan Thomas
  4. 4. A Memory Of June
    Claude McKay
  5. 5. Memory
    William Wordsworth
  6. 6. First Memory
    Louise Gluck
  7. 7. In Memory Of My Feelings
    Frank O'Hara
  8. 8. A Man (In Memory Of H. Of M.)
    Thomas Hardy
  9. 9. A Memory (From A Sonnet- Sequence)
    Rupert Brooke
  10. 10. Elegy To The Memory Of An Unfortunate Lady
    Alexander Pope
  11. 11. Memory
    Lucille Clifton
  12. 12. Memory Of Sun
    Anna Akhmatova
  13. 13. Memory Of April
    William Carlos Williams
  14. 14. A Memory Of The Players In A Mirror At M..
    James Joyce
  15. 15. Song: Memory, Hither Come
    William Blake
  16. 16. In Memory Of Eva Gore-Booth And Con Mark..
    William Butler Yeats
  17. 17. Loss Of Memory
    hariharans sundaram
  18. 18. In Memory Of Jane Fraser
    Geoffrey Hill
  19. 19. In Memory Of A Happy Day In February
    Anne Brontë
  20. 20. A Memory Of Youth
    William Butler Yeats
  21. 21. Memory
    William Butler Yeats
  22. 22. To Memory
    Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
  23. 23. In Memory Of M.B.
    Anna Akhmatova
  24. 24. In Memory Of Major Robert Gregory
    William Butler Yeats
  25. 25. Memory
    Siegfried Sassoon
  26. 26. A Fading Memory Beneath Forgetful Sod
    Uriah Hamilton
  27. 27. A Memory
    William Allingham
  28. 28. Old Memory
    William Butler Yeats
  29. 29. To The Memory Of Mrs. Lefroy Who Died De..
    Jane Austen
  30. 30. Two Sonnets In Memory
    Edna St. Vincent Millay
  31. 31. In Memory Of Alfred Pollexfen
    William Butler Yeats
  32. 32. The Onion, Memory
    Craig Raine
  33. 33. Memory
    Thomas Bailey Aldrich
  34. 34. Memory Lane
    Ernestine Northover
  35. 35. A Rector's Memory
    Rudyard Kipling
  36. 36. A Poem Sacred To The Memory Of Sir Isaac..
    James Thomson
  37. 37. Memory
    Oliver Goldsmith
  38. 38. Memory
    Anne Brontë
  39. 39. A Ring Of Memory
    C.J. Heck
  40. 40. Jangling Memory
    Katherine Mansfield
  41. 41. To The Memory Of Mr Oldham
    John Dryden
  42. 42. To The Memory Of Love
    Dee Daffodil
  43. 43. Memory
    Zora Bernice May Cross
  44. 44. Ode In Memory Of The American Volunteers..
    Alan Seeger
  45. 45. Memory Pictures
    Lucy Maud Montgomery
  46. 46. Ave Atque Vale (In Memory Of Charles Bau..
    Algernon Charles Swinburne
  47. 47. Lines To The Memory Of Richard Boyle, Esq.
    Mary Darby Robinson
  48. 48. On The Religious Memory Of Mrs. Catherin..
    John Milton
  49. 49. (152) The Coal Train (Childhood ..
    Melvina Germain
  50. 50. Elegy To The Memory Of Richard Boyle, Esq.
    Mary Darby Robinson

New Memory Poems

  1. Memories, goki nair
  2. Good Night, Jim Yerman
  3. Where Do Memories Go?, Jim Yerman
  4. Thought Reform, Alexander Julian
  5. Blue Raincoat (For Leonard Cohen), Bijay Kant Dubey
  6. Dear Grandma, Putri Misnia Shary Bahri
  7. Spells Of My Slavery Broke, John Sensele
  8. Memory, Kathy light
  9. memory And Loneliness-Relation, mamutty CHOLA
  10. . memory And Loneliness-Relation, mamutty CHOLA

Memory Poems

  1. A Memory Of June

    When June comes dancing o'er the death of May, With scarlet roses tinting her green breast, And mating thrushes ushering in her day, And Earth on tiptoe for her golden guest, I always see the evening when we met-- The first of June baptized in tender rain-- And walked home through the wide streets, gleaming wet, Arms locked, our warm flesh pulsing with love's pain. I always see the cheerful little room, And in the corner, fresh and white, the bed, Sweet scented with a delicate perfume, Wherein for one night only we were wed; Where in the starlit stillness we lay mute, And heard the whispering showers all night long, And your brown burning body was a lute Whereon my passion played his fevered song. When June comes dancing o'er the death of May, With scarlet roses staining her fair feet, My soul takes leave of me to sing all day A love so fugitive and so complete.

  2. Memory

    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; That smooths foregone distress, the lines Of lingering care subdues, Long-vanished happiness refines, And clothes in brighter hues; Yet, like a tool of Fancy, works Those Spectres to dilate That startle Conscience, as she lurks Within her lonely seat. Oh! that our lives, which flee so fast, In purity were such, That not an image of the past Should fear that pencil's touch! Retirement then might hourly look Upon a soothing scene, Age steal to his allotted nook Contented and serene; With heart as calm as lakes that sleep, In frosty moonlight glistening; Or mountain rivers, where they creep Along a channel smooth and deep, To their own far-off murmurs listening.

  3. Memory Of My Father

    Every old man I see Reminds me of my father When he had fallen in love with death One time when sheaves were gathered. That man I saw in Gardner Street Stumbled on the kerb was one, He stared at me half-eyed, I might have been his son. And I remember the musician Faltering over his fiddle In Bayswater, London, He too set me the riddle. Every old man I see In October-coloured weather Seems to say to me: "I was once your father."

  4. After The Funeral (In Memory Of Ann Jones)

    After the funeral, mule praises, brays, Windshake of sailshaped ears, muffle-toed tap Tap happily of one peg in the thick Grave's foot, blinds down the lids, the teeth in black, The spittled eyes, the salt ponds in the sleeves, Morning smack of the spade that wakes up sleep, Shakes a desolate boy who slits his throat In the dark of the coffin and sheds dry leaves, That breaks one bone to light with a judgment clout' After the feast of tear-stuffed time and thistles In a room with a stuffed fox and a stale fern, I stand, for this memorial's sake, alone In the snivelling hours with dead, humped Ann Whose hodded, fountain heart once fell in puddles Round the parched worlds of Wales and drowned each sun (Though this for her is a monstrous image blindly Magnified out of praise; her death was a still drop; She would not have me sinking in the holy Flood of her heart's fame; she would lie dumb and deep And need no druid of her broken body). But I, Ann's bard on a raised hearth, call all The seas to service that her wood-tongud virtue Babble like a bellbuoy over the hymning heads, Bow down the walls of the ferned and foxy woods That her love sing and swing through a brown chapel, Blees her bent spirit with four, crossing birds. Her flesh was meek as milk, but this skyward statue With the wild breast and blessed and giant skull Is carved from her in a room with a wet window In a fiercely mourning house in a crooked year. I know her scrubbed and sour humble hands Lie with religion in their cramp, her threadbare Whisper in a damp word, her wits drilled hollow, Her fist of a face died clenched on a round pain; And sculptured Ann is seventy years of stone. These cloud-sopped, marble hands, this monumental Argument of the hewn voice, gesture and psalm Storm me forever over her grave until The stuffed lung of the fox twitch and cry Love And the strutting fern lay seeds on the black sill.