Forgetting is a funeral

inside the brain,

one that’s low attended,

flowers heartlessly arranged.

Creak of hearse-like book cart,

spines swiftly disintegrating.

Seats set in empty rows,

crippled cortical columns,

a great uncle with no name

drops a never-blossomed rose.

The sermon brief and rote,

illegible notes,

a procession of lost memory,

synapsis and stuttering,

whispers of things learned

lowered in the ground.

A funeral in my brain,

but the tombstone can’t be found,

which leads me to worry

how many ideas lie unmarked underground,

damned and doomed

in the cemetery of my creativity.

The itch to dig deeper

till each idea is exhumed.

© 2022 | K.Hartless

Artwork: Brain Funeral Paolo Paptino


2018

5 responses to “Forgetting is a Funeral”

  1. “crippled cortical columns,” That’s fantastic, and I so resonate with the concept and practice of unearthing it all, every last crumb. Amazing write, K.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Jeff. Passing you the shovel. We can take shifts.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. You’re welcome, K. Always. Ah, thank you, I’m aligned with you on this plan.

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  2. Tom Avatar

    Very powerful verses, K, with some great vivid descriptions sprinkled throughout. Beautifully written. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Tom. I loved the idea of mourning my lost ideas. Whenever I think to myself, I can write that down later, I remind myself that waiting could lead to loss.

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