Recently I wrote a poem
called, My Rememberer is Broke.
I wasn’t really serious,
it was intended as a joke.
But, for some it touched a nerve
and wasn’t all that funny,
though it was mostly about me
with parts of it, about my honey.
I wrote it for my mom,
just some fun I wanted to poke.
A little something for her to read,
while having her morning smoke.
You see, I sometimes don’t remember things
and I live here all alone.
Just the other day I had to call myself,
‘cause I couldn’t find my phone.
And recently I found the TV remote
in the cradle where the phone should be.
I wondered who could have put it there,
knowing all along the answer was me.
Like I said, I live alone,
there’s no one I can blame.
I always say, “That’s the last time.”
Yet, it keeps happening just the same.
I find things in all sorts of places
that I know they don’t belong.
I’ve heard them sing about things like that,
but I can’t remember who sings that song.
Found my keys in with the silverware,
while I was looking for a spoon.
I’d been looking for the damn things,
since yesterday afternoon.
I spend hours on my computer
and I’d probably spend many more,
but they keep asking for my key word
and I can’t remember where its stored.
Over the years I’ve used different ones
before I completely filled my brain.
Now when I try to recall them
it causes memory strain.
I’m sure I wrote them down
and stored them where they’d be safe,
but now I can’t remember where,
boy that really makes me chafe!
Seems things often get misplaced
and I know it’s all my fault.
I just keep forgetting things
like the combination to my vault.
I bought it to keep my things safe,
should have gotten one with a key.
turns out the one they’re safest from
just happens to be me.
Course if it had a key,
I'd have to keep track of where is was,
something else for my brain to remember,
which it hardly ever does.
So, I stashed my spare money
till the combination was resolved.
Then I couldn’t find it,
oh the nasty words I mouthed.
I finally came across it
long after I’d given up.
It was up in my cupboard
inside my favorite coffee cup.
I’m sure I put it there
during a brief moment of reason,
thinking my next cup of coffee
would turn out really pleasing.
Pleasing doesn’t describe
the sensations that I felt,
for if I was a religious man
I’m certain I would have knelt.
You see that stash of money,
was quite a healthy wad
and if I’d have never found it
I’d have had a serious talk with God.