DetailsThe poem, its numbers, and the conversation.

stains

Member since 2003 · Posted 30 Mar 2004 · 5 comments

i wonder how we all survive the thought that maybe our memories die more and more each day and the ones we save might just happen to be the least important.

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6 votes so far. Yours would make 7.6 votes so far

5 comments

[9] deleted user 30-Mar-04/12:26 PM Reply

Very poignant and a bit depressing.

[9] baughworm 31-Mar-04/2:45 PM Reply

I would change the title. I like the poem.

[9] Shuushin 31-Mar-04/6:02 PM Reply

Pretty nice, calliope.

This is an entirely different style (etc.), but have you read "the old fools" by philip larkin?

http://plagiarist.com/poetry/?wid=4879

oh, I just read baughworm's crit on the title - agreed.

[n/a] -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. 5-Jan-07/6:04 AM Reply

Title reminds me of a classic verse from Kipling's "The Lesson":

It was my fault, and my very great fault-- and now I must turn it to use.
I have forty million reasons for failure, but not a single excuse.
So the more I wipe and the less I stain the cleaner the pants I shall get--
I've had a lavatorial lesson; I may take off my diaper yet!

[n/a] Dovina › -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. 5-Jan-07/12:36 PM Reply

Rudyard would flog you right there in the privy. lol