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#13 Regrets
"I wish I had done BLANK when I had the chance” Sounds familiar? Regret seems to be a common feeling going around, particularly the regrets of things we didn’t do. It’s so painful and yet, we feel completely powerless over it. If we can’t go back in time, then what can we do?
What's Memento Mori Lab?
Memento Mori Lab is our permission slip to experiment, try new things, and keep bringing ideas to life. In my case, that means writing mediocre poetry, some stories and scripts, doodling, and recording this podcast. Memento Mori reminds us, we are going to die. Whatever creative endeavor you've been postponing, now is the time to take action.
🔥Available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and anywhere you get your podcasts! 👉https://anchor.fm/mementomorilab
Instagram: @memento.mori.lab
Twitter: @mementomorilab
Poems
A Collection of Regrets
The gallery opens. Inside: dark walls and spotlights
Displays arranged next to one another, all empty,
And yet, one heavier than the next.
Sharp turn to a room filled with crumpled papers and dreams,
Dead before reaching the stars or even the walls.
An entire exhibition of what could have been, but never will.
Conceptual art of the soul, equally hard to understand,
Or accepted as art at all. It's not a pipe, but it is. Or a fountain.
No, this is the largest collection of all.
The collection of regrets gathered from every person looking back,
wondering why they didn't take a chance.
Why did they let fear win?
Except this art won't go for millions in the next auction.
These pieces will remain untouched, gathering dust,
And painfully poking you every chance they have.
Some, I'm afraid, couldn't fit in this gallery,
But they still live in the back of our minds,
Weighing us down at every chance they get.
-
Torture
Regrets drip in the back of my mind,
All the time, like a broken faucet
No matter how tightly I turn,
It keeps on leaking just the same.
I try my hardest to avoid it. I do, but,
The sound of each drop grows louder,
Until I can hear nothing else, it's torture.
Meanwhile, no one else hears anything at all.
-
The water - Soon to be published on the Medium Publication - Not Poetry.
View all episodes
By Mayra Gomes"I wish I had done BLANK when I had the chance” Sounds familiar? Regret seems to be a common feeling going around, particularly the regrets of things we didn’t do. It’s so painful and yet, we feel completely powerless over it. If we can’t go back in time, then what can we do?
What's Memento Mori Lab?
Memento Mori Lab is our permission slip to experiment, try new things, and keep bringing ideas to life. In my case, that means writing mediocre poetry, some stories and scripts, doodling, and recording this podcast. Memento Mori reminds us, we are going to die. Whatever creative endeavor you've been postponing, now is the time to take action.
🔥Available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, and anywhere you get your podcasts! 👉https://anchor.fm/mementomorilab
Instagram: @memento.mori.lab
Twitter: @mementomorilab
Poems
A Collection of Regrets
The gallery opens. Inside: dark walls and spotlights
Displays arranged next to one another, all empty,
And yet, one heavier than the next.
Sharp turn to a room filled with crumpled papers and dreams,
Dead before reaching the stars or even the walls.
An entire exhibition of what could have been, but never will.
Conceptual art of the soul, equally hard to understand,
Or accepted as art at all. It's not a pipe, but it is. Or a fountain.
No, this is the largest collection of all.
The collection of regrets gathered from every person looking back,
wondering why they didn't take a chance.
Why did they let fear win?
Except this art won't go for millions in the next auction.
These pieces will remain untouched, gathering dust,
And painfully poking you every chance they have.
Some, I'm afraid, couldn't fit in this gallery,
But they still live in the back of our minds,
Weighing us down at every chance they get.
-
Torture
Regrets drip in the back of my mind,
All the time, like a broken faucet
No matter how tightly I turn,
It keeps on leaking just the same.
I try my hardest to avoid it. I do, but,
The sound of each drop grows louder,
Until I can hear nothing else, it's torture.
Meanwhile, no one else hears anything at all.
-
The water - Soon to be published on the Medium Publication - Not Poetry.