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LongJohnPaulBaldryPoems
A box— they say— is just a box. Lid. Clasp. Edges that close. But listen— 📦 I keep things. Not just objects— stories. Secrets that refuse to fade. Moments that linger longer than breath. Tales waiting— patient— for a voice. 📦 I hold what matters. Hidden gems. Fragments of joy. Pieces of people who were once here. I look simple— plain— easy to overlook. But don’t mistake quiet for empty. 📦 Because inside— there are worlds. Possibility stacked on possibility. Dreams folded carefully between memory and hope. A place where wonder doesn’t ask permission— it just exists. 📦 Call me a container if you need to— but I am more. I am where dreams go when they’re not ready for daylight. I cradle ambition. I guard desire. I wait— for the brave hands that dare to open me. 📦 I am memory. A sanctuary stitched together with feeling. A stronghold of love— quiet, unshaken. 📦 So no— I am not just a box. I am proof that something small can carry something infinite. That the ordinary can hold the extraordinary. That potential doesn’t shout— it waits. 📦 I am simple. Yes. But within me— I am everything you haven’t discovered yet. By Paul Baldry (LongJohn)
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Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 4:54 AM UTC
More Than What I Hold
A box— they say— is just a box. Lid. Clasp. Edges that close. But listen— 📦 I keep things. Not just objects— stories. Secrets that refuse to fade. Moments that linger longer than breath. Tales waiting— patient— for a voice. 📦 I hold what matters. Hidden gems. Fragments of joy. Pieces of people who were once here. I look simple— plain— easy to overlook. But don’t mistake quiet for empty. 📦 Because inside— there are worlds. Possibility stacked on possibility. Dreams folded carefully between memory and hope. A place where wonder doesn’t ask permission— it just exists. 📦 Call me a container if you need to— but I am more. I am where dreams go when they’re not ready for daylight. I cradle ambition. I guard desire. I wait— for the brave hands that dare to open me. 📦 I am memory. A sanctuary stitched together with feeling. A stronghold of love— quiet, unshaken. 📦 So no— I am not just a box. I am proof that something small can carry something infinite. That the ordinary can hold the extraordinary. That potential doesn’t shout— it waits. 📦 I am simple. Yes. But within me— I am everything you haven’t discovered yet. By Paul Baldry (LongJohn)
A modern spoken word rewrite of my original poem The Box, this piece strips things back to reveal deeper meaning—where something simple becomes a vessel for memory, dreams, and quiet power. It’s a journey from object to identity, from form to infinite possibility.
#spokenword#modernpoetry#thebox#minimalistpoetry#creativewriting#hiddendepths
LongJohnPaulBaldry
Written by
LongJohnPaulBaldry
71/M/Saltcoats - Scotland
Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 4:54 AM UTC
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