FORGETFULNESS By: Billy Collins

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

Artwork by; Tony Craig

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Every time I feel this way This terrifying kind of pain These twitchy palms and muffled sobs These weakened sights and mindless slob I would think of something To put me at ease, anything At times, to leave my world And be someone else, not a dud Often times I would write on plain sheet Write till my limbs felt weak Write till the page is covered in ink Write till the painful times shift. ©-Marvee

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Every year we welcome into our community several teenagers between 13 and 17 from far and near. They are both male and female. They have the same mission. They have come to write General Certificate Examination (G.C.E). Most of them are penultimate students in secondary schools. These little fellows have been fixed at centres nearby to write their exams and the people that brought them have accommodation as part of the payment agreement. Some of these children are leaving home for the first time. Some of them look like mom's pets. Immediately they hit the town, you see a lot of ambiance and noise, something like a carnival. They make noise in the morning while looking for water for domestic use and in the evening when they are back from their different centres. It's always a new experience for most of them, and they seem to enjoy it: yea, they seem to enjoy being away from home for a whole month, a kind of escape from the eagle eyes of their parents; they seem to enjoy a t...

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