Tiffany Norman
Tiffany Norman
Oct 29, 2014

It wasn’t my intention
to collect your love
and place it on a shelf.

The dust makes you sneeze,
and I’m sorry, I’ve just
been busy.

It takes a lot
for me to climb my step stool
to break up

the cobwebs that
have settled on you
and Paul and Chris and Jake.

Poem published in Glass Mountain's Spring 2015 issue.
#dust   #cobwebs   #trinkets  
You were the pawn shop for my trinkets and baggage

I missed you before we ever met
And dread the parting words
You were the pawn shop for my trinkets and baggage
Assigning palpable worth to the unimportant history
One man’s trash and tragedy
Is another man’s happiness attained
I traded my pain for gold
You’re the best story I ever told

Jun 25, 2014

I have a trinket
I hold the world in my palms
And in the world i hold a woman who owns a voice that calms
This trinket is not magic
It's a godsend in disguise
And it harbors the words of a woman
With bright blue sky eyes
Now the distance is quite an issue
But it won't hold our demise
There are many miles ahead
And time is on our side
So I'll just lay here awake
Chatting away with someone in which i confide
And maybe one day I'll get a package
Marked precious cargo with you wrapped up inside

Jun 13, 2014      Jun 14, 2014

She stopped eating until she was nothing but right angles and sharp edges. It was if she couldn’t understand the math of the world she lived in, so she sought the neat geometry of the curve of her hollowed hips, the bend of her wishbone elbow, and the measurements of her rag doll ankles.

Traders of trinkets girls’ ribbon hairpin
Pradip Chattopadhyay

They’re almost gone now a vanishing tribe
Peddlers of fresh sweets honeys from hive
Sellers of fish heads such sundries on head
Toys and bangles and blankets for bed.

Don’t see them around those struggling men
Making the choice of voice trudging the lane
Hoping to sell one piece in dream of gain
Faceless wind ringer in sun’s bite and rain.

Gone are those plaintive cries on summer noon
Raising road’s dust on trail singing the tune
Traders of trinkets girls’ ribbon hairpin
Yoyo and plastic top with endless spin.

Why the times ruined them made them a flop
Sellers travelers with head-full of shop
Sending their song of hope past locked in door
None could now fill that space nothing anymore.

Elaenor Aisling
Elaenor Aisling
Apr 3, 2014

1) October is a month for leaving
even the copper leaves
leave the embrace of the trees

2)Your ghost still haunts my bed.
If I made love to a priest
would that exorcise you
from my sheets?

3)Because I think we all have thought
about stepping on the gas
when we should have hit the brake.

Elaenor Aisling
Elaenor Aisling
May 3, 2013

It’s the small things.
The little ones almost missed,
But some strand of  soul
Catches them,
Reels them in,
Adds them to the heap
Of silver and bronze plated memories
Stashed in the heart of hearts.
Tiny things.
So unimportant.
Locked away by ingratitude,
Who bars the door with steeled force.
But even a slip of thanks,
Could push him aside.
And flood the world with light.

Dec 14, 2014

I fall beneath the wings
I hang above the chasm
I let my resolve crumble

Breathless whispers bring forth
enticing thoughts of snow globe worlds
As useful as paper weights

I fear the collision of worlds
I wait for the ringing to stop
I allow the peace of destruction to befall

Covering the world
in satin trimmed words
Pretending the tides would shift for the better

It’s funny how your feelings can hop to-and-fro
How conscious you need to be to maintain
You negligently dig your own hole
Jump in and forget to look out for rain
And the rain it reigns,
Steals all your joy when you unaware
And drowns you in your own despair
And once again you start again
Climbing out the hole
You dug yourself in

Mar 29

You sit on the mantel.  You’re displayed on a shelf.
These beautiful trinket boxes, what treasures do you hold?

Shaped from potter’s clay or carved from wood,
most are hand painted or adorned in a way to decorate.
Few are crystal clear while others are weighted
in brushed pewter metals.

Received gifts from family or given as a gift from me,
each one artistically born is showcased for all to see.

Initially noticed in an enchanted glance,
these trinket boxes allure a silent radiance.
Kept still in a quiet collection,
the captivated are drawn to what’s hidden inside.

No lock to open, no token to hold.
They discover it’s a place where a voice
to be heard and felt emotions reside.

These cherished boxes guard a time
from kept secrets and haunted regrets,
of memories filled with tearful hurts and cries of laughter.

Celebrated victories and scars of defeat,
there’s a story of loves found and loves lost too soon.

Remembered moments never to live down
and events wished to forget
faded life to a disappeared stance.

Mindful of lessons learned from choices made,
there’s struggled behaviors that stood in the way.

Placed trust where it belongs,
there’s emerged dreams ready to take flight.

Shined in the sunlight illuminated with candles glow
these trinket boxes hold the beautiful treasures of me.

April 27, 2012

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