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amid the dross treasures
can be
unearthed
whereby they are repurposed
and
rebirthed
  
just think of those many
items you've tossed in the
trash
not giving a thought as
to how they could
rehash

gems are discovered neath
the piles of
*******
and collectors bring them
back to life with a
refurbish
A poem written in response to BTW's challenge.
jopfre Aug 2019
There’s no doubt in my mind
at least not on display
but who doesn’t have some
photographs and trinkets
sealed in a shoe box
with packing tape.

                                  The odd
strand of blonde hair stuck
to a paper plane, disentangled
bracelet braids, a heartfelt
note used for a page mark,
a postcard of a mountain path
fading into darkness.
James Rowley Jul 2019
All that is mine I carry with me.

My frosted spectacles
With the tiniest crack on the surface
Just enough to make them special.

My leather wallet
Beaten by years of rain and use.
Inside, a polaroid of the one I consider divine.

My keys
For what I do not exactly remember.
They stay nestled in the back of my pocket, rusting slowly.

My lyric book,
Complete with unfinished ideas that ****** at the
Back of my head, pleading to be finished one day.

My Memories,
Which have a repugnant smell of loss
That I embrace with open arms.

My ‘Dreams’,
A potent synthesis of reoccurring nightmares
Fundamentally unrequited in its presence.

My Addictions,
Virulent Vampires leeching droplets
off who I adore so dearly.

My Love,
You too are being ripped away
So quickly.

I think for now
I shall stare at my lyric book wistfully
Through my spectacles, hoping for redemption.

Perhaps one day I will again be able
To show you the Polaroid I hold so dearly
And finally get to use these keys.

All that is mine, I carry with me;
Hopefully I could one day
carry her too.
idk it didn't turn out as well as i wanted
nick armbrister Jun 2018
Items Before
There you see the item in front of you
What you ask is that?
It could be anything you want it to be
A car or a bike or bus or trike
Or a helicopter or plane or UFO
Let alone something smaller
For example a cup or brush or key
Does it matter what the object is?
As long as there is something there?
Each item is made and used by people
It could be you or me or another
Who made or used that item
That is right there before us
SJ Sullivan Jan 2016
I will, someday, be the first in line to the opening of your estate sale.
I will buy all of your furniture to keep this part of you alive.
We keep remnants and pieces, as we scatter  memories like your charred remains across a place you once knew.

I want to love the carousel figurine
you forgot you once owned and sing the sweet melodies of the music box you once fell asleep too each night.
For the depth of something once loved and now lost, is impenetrable to pain.

As all things are made, and all things are to be loved and lost or forgotten.
I want to love all the things once loved by others.
Titled by my poetry professor.
Alan S Bailey Mar 2015
I am the lamp, I am this lighting, using up electricity
I am the wall, I am this part of your expensive home
I am the car, I ride too and from, to work and fun
I am the computer, I addict you and take up your time
I am the heater, I warm you and keep you from sickness
I am the stove, I cook your food and boil your water
I am the fridge, I protect your food and liquids from spoiling
INSTANTLY

And you are my slave, you will do what I say in return,
Anything and everything, now that you have these things,
You can never be alone, never have a day off, never be free,
Never have enough time to rest or stay at home with family,
*EVER AGAIN.
Racquel Davis Jul 2014
When I look over at the nightstand
The little green sketchbook
I bought just before kissing Florida good riddance,
Reminds me ‘your desires are important’,
Because YOU are important

Flowers I brought home from work sweat on the table
The wedding was another blur
The event hall is always the same,
Pretentiously lavish
But the flowers, I thought
Deserved a second chance

On the bed lays delicately
A small blanket Sophie knitted me when I was five
She tells me, “Your comfort is important”
Because YOU are important

The round terracotta tea tray I had to buy
Sits, assembled with other superficial nothings
Displayed within its orbit
But a cup of tea every night,
Calls back my heritage

My niece smiles at me
From the heart shaped picture frame
She gifted me for Christmas
I smile as I pick her up from the table,
‘Your happiness’, I say to her, ‘is important’
Because YOU are important

©Copyright 2014 Written and Edited by Racquel Davis
A reflection on one's environment, a personal space, a room, office, and all the things that make it home.
R Saba Feb 2014
In the bag,
you can find a dictionary;
you can find words
like
“alone,”
“gone.”

You can find
a week’s worth
of candy wrappers,
too many empty pill-bottles,
blunt pencils
and ripped pages
and crumpled notes
and band-aids
that didn’t help.

If you looked deeper,
you might find lottery tickets,
forgotten phone numbers
and puzzle pieces
and more empty things,
bottles,
containers,
bags,
hearts.

More words:
“lost,”
“missing,”
“unknown;”

some dust
and pennies
and elastic bands
and plastic knives
and drastic decisions
and

nothing

except
maybe

a few more words
From the archives- wrote this over 2 years ago...

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