Poetry Here (Mostly)

Posts tagged ‘Stuff’

Flowers


IMG_0577Dependent, and dependable,

a woman pushing another,

the burden of infirmity shared.

Wheels spin as we parallel

on the otherwise empty pavement.

One twin above the other,

like sunflowers, on the same stalk,

They turn to look at me and offer

the sincerity of unforced smiles,

positive comments, and hopes

that I have a very good day,

I mean it when I wish them the same.

Short but memorable encounter,

for as I continue on my way,

it can’t be coincidental that

My own petals have begun to unfurl.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Freedom


IMG_1498.jpg We exited
off the freeway
to wind around
country boulders.

Off-road-shoulder
placards expressed
state of rural
independence:

“Deer may cross”
“Rocks may slide”
“May flood when it rains”
“Horseback riding allowed”

 

Image

Paradox


bird fight.jpgThe tidy deserve
messy comforts and
grateful expressions.

The fierce admire
tough challenges that
suspend all chuckles.

The clumsy amble
irked by bright glimmer
spangled in their eyes.

The deceived complain
and exaggerate
great astonishment.

The fleet and versatile,
by coincidence,
perform and delight.

Storing Salvation


 

A satisfying pastime,
sorting through stuff at
the Salvation Army Store.
Me and other ragpickers 
searching for something special,
nothing in particular.

Buried in bins, strewn on shelves,
I’m surprised by amazing
values others gave away.
I have too many designer 
purses, none I purchased new,
plus crystal and collector plates.

Not hoarding, but planning good
use of the next-to-nothing priced
merchandise that I carry home.
I’ll download stuff on Ebay, soon,
and cash in on my unused, used
closet accumulations.

Meantime, I display some objet d’art:
the chiming clock, women in gilded 
kimonos on the painted vase. 
And, though Jim protests that I
present him with too many, 
he likes wearing a “new” silk tie.

I can’t keep up with yarn I have
collected, though most evenings
I continually crochet. 
Hats, scarves, potholders, shawls, and 
unpatterned odd creations. Still
I can’t pass up a donated skein.

Quality stuff among the junk,
impersonal and personal,
the latter sometimes makes me sad.
A smiling graduate, a babe 
in arms, a family group,
a grandma, or a staring old man. 

Castaways in pictures. How did they 
lose their status? Did someone no
longer care? Do any still survive,
or will it be their final end
when a buyer sees no worth in 
the faces and keeps only their frames.

Tag Cloud