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Wakey29Poems
“Okay so you see? You-you see this on the left, This pocket watch, The face, it tells more-. Eh? No, no. Fine, I guess. Or what about this plate? Hand painted chi- … No, just one, not four. Right, look, please, I've only this left - A jar of dirt, I know - But it's about the lore.” All who look, never see. They scoff at these kept memories. The watch? A token. A bond with my mother, Forever unbroken. She passed, Many years ago now. And her face is getting Harder. But the face of the watch, The face. I can hear the tick, And remember. Remember her rituals around the holidays This was the last thing she gave me Before she was gone. But that last year - “He's been! He's been!” At 5am That memory is warm The plate is part of a whole. See this wonderful woman, This strange, amazing ball of light ... Loved chickens. We sat, I remember Wading through nostalgia. I swung my legs off my chair, While she hummed out the window. It dawned on us then, Just how crazy this Clustered chicken collection Had grown. I remember 250, I remember your face. You laughed until you cried, With gusto, and haste. The dirt is last, But the tightest I hold. See you always wanted To give me a world Filled with magic And hope. You found a site, “Historical Pirate Port” Closed off and condemned. You shimmied under chicken wire Put dirt in a jar So I could hold some magic For when you were afar. Quirks, Rituals, Memories and more You are what Traditions are for.
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Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 2:04 AM UTC
Trinkets
“Okay so you see? You-you see this on the left, This pocket watch, The face, it tells more-. Eh? No, no. Fine, I guess. Or what about this plate? Hand painted chi- … No, just one, not four. Right, look, please, I've only this left - A jar of dirt, I know - But it's about the lore.” All who look, never see. They scoff at these kept memories. The watch? A token. A bond with my mother, Forever unbroken. She passed, Many years ago now. And her face is getting Harder. But the face of the watch, The face. I can hear the tick, And remember. Remember her rituals around the holidays This was the last thing she gave me Before she was gone. But that last year - “He's been! He's been!” At 5am That memory is warm The plate is part of a whole. See this wonderful woman, This strange, amazing ball of light ... Loved chickens. We sat, I remember Wading through nostalgia. I swung my legs off my chair, While she hummed out the window. It dawned on us then, Just how crazy this Clustered chicken collection Had grown. I remember 250, I remember your face. You laughed until you cried, With gusto, and haste. The dirt is last, But the tightest I hold. See you always wanted To give me a world Filled with magic And hope. You found a site, “Historical Pirate Port” Closed off and condemned. You shimmied under chicken wire Put dirt in a jar So I could hold some magic For when you were afar. Quirks, Rituals, Memories and more You are what Traditions are for.
An ode to a wonderful woman.
#mother#memory
Wakey29
Written by
Wakey29
33/NB/Nottingham
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 2:04 AM UTC
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