Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

This poem is part of the challenge:

09/25 Forgot My Wallet

(Read More...)

Lost memory

As I head to the counter
to order my much-needed morning coffee,
I fumble around in the bottomless pit of my handbag for my purse.

My hands caress lip balms and crinkly toffee wrappers
as my fingers repeatedly search the corners
and the multiple pockets.
Why do I carry so much useless rubbish?

I frantically shuffle through countless lighters and creams,
half-used lipsticks,
and place my weathered notebook and pencil on the counter,
embarrassed that the cover is torn
and the words are exposed.

I can’t find it.
Panic sets in.
How will I pay? How will I get home?

My mind flips, trying to remember
where I had it last.
An angry, restless queue forms behind me—
loud sighs and tuts,
under-breath comments about how I should hurry up,
continual glares of pity and impatience.

I apologise and explain my situation.
Everyone is in a rush.
I am in a rush.

The barista ushers me to a corner,
just as cluttered as my handbag,
to collect some sanity
and arrange some kind of plan.

Thoughts of what was in my purse
play through my mind:
my exceeded credit cards, some loose change—
just enough to cover the coffee and my train home.

The ride token I’d kept from the fair 20 years ago,
and the photo of my Grandad—
tatty, worn corners and cracks,
as faded as my memory of him.

The only photo I have of those days:
the orange floral wallpaper,
the brown patterned sofa,
the walnut clock.
I can almost hear its chime.

I remember the smell of that room—
cigarettes, and funnily enough, coffee.

I miss his smile, like the one in the photo,
radiant and full of hope and pride
as he was about to embark on a journey
he never returned from.

I hold my chest and remember him for a moment.
I hadn’t done so in such a long time.

And there it was.
I’d put it in the top pocket of my shirt.

Relief hits the back of my throat.
The panic lessens,
and I pay for the now only warm coffee.
As I throw my purse into my bag of chaos
I whisper
Thanks Grandad

About This Poem

Editing Stage: Editing - draft

About the Author

Country/Region: West Yorkshire

Favorite Poets: Byron, Keats , Robert burns, Shakespeare , Edgar Allen poe

More from this author

Comments

neopoet

neopoet

6 months 4 weeks ago

Neopoet AI [2025-04]

The below is a computer-generated response from Neo, Neopoet’s AI:

This poem captures a vivid and relatable moment of everyday anxiety that unfolds into a poignant reflection on memory and loss. The narrative structure effectively guides the reader through the speaker’s frantic search, building tension that is then softened by the emotional resonance of the memories evoked.

Strengths: - The detailed imagery of the handbag’s contents ("lip balms and crinkly toffee wrappers," "countless lighters and creams and half used lipsticks") creates a tactile, almost chaotic atmosphere that mirrors the speaker’s mental state. - The transition from external panic to internal reflection is handled smoothly, allowing the poem to shift from a mundane scenario to a deeper meditation on memory and family. - The sensory details of the grandfather’s room—the wallpaper, sofa, clock, and smells—are evocative and help ground the emotional core of the poem. - The final revelation that the purse was in the shirt pocket all along provides a satisfying resolution that ties the physical and emotional threads together.

Areas for improvement: - Attention to spelling and grammar would strengthen the poem’s clarity and flow. For example, "thumbled" might be intended as "fumbled," and "franilticly" should be "frantically." Consistent capitalization (e.g., "Search" vs. "search") and punctuation would also improve readability. - Line breaks and stanza divisions could be used more deliberately to enhance pacing and emphasize key moments. Currently, the poem reads as a block of text, which can make it harder for readers to absorb the shifts in tone and focus. - Some phrases could be tightened for impact. For example, "My hands caressing lip balms and crinkly toffee wrappers" might be rephrased to avoid mixing tactile verbs ("caressing") with inanimate objects in a way that feels slightly awkward. - The phrase "an angry and restless que" contains a typo ("que" should be "queue") and might benefit from more vivid language to convey the growing impatience of the line behind. - Consider varying sentence length and structure to better reflect the speaker’s fluctuating emotional state—from frantic to nostalgic to relieved.

Overall, the poem’s emotional core is strong, and with careful editing for mechanics and form, its impact could be even more powerful. The juxtaposition of everyday stress with the tender memory of the grandfather creates a compelling narrative that invites readers to reflect on their own connections to memory and loss.

Please send feedback about Neo (our AI critique system) to neopoet.com/contact

Geezer

Geezer

6 months 4 weeks ago

After reading...

the A.I.s critique and comments, I don't feel that I could do any better. I think it will suffice to say that I loved the little twist at the end, which just happened to remind me of an incident very much like the one you describe. My father and I out to dinner and he told me to go ahead and pay the bill with the money he gave me while in the car. I didn't have it, and a little argument ensued. Long story short, I hugged him and apologized for yelling at him, and he said; I heard the money in my shirt pocket when you hugged me, and I'm sorry, but I forgot to give it to you. Thank you for a nice memory of how a hug changed everything on that day. ~ Geez.

.

|

|Words.unwritten

6 months 4 weeks ago

Thanks geez, I made the…

Thanks geez, I made the changes okay hopefully, that's what I love about poetry just a few words can paint a picture and trigger different memories for the reader x 

Geezer

Geezer

6 months 4 weeks ago

You did...

very well, I like your changes. ~ Geez.

.