a pair of headphones with the mufflers missing
the wire that goes from said headphones to the computer
a ceramic pug in a red scarf containing tubes of paint
an ocarina that i picked up in a ghost town/tourist trap in california
a red cup for water during painting
a book called the artist's mentor
an adjustable lamp
wristbands a lover made for me
a book for savannah college of art and design featuring someone holding a large inflatable red ball on the cover
an incomplete abstract painting on canvas paper, slightly crumbled,
a box for the savannah college of art and design VR kit that they sent me
a book on writing
a book about color line and form in the visual arts
a red squishy ball inside a a fishnet containment, creating organic bulbous abscesses when squeezed
a book of poetry with a red cloth on the cover
a small packet of konpeito, a japanese sugar-based hard candy
a novelty necklace designed to resemble christmas lights, complete with glowing LEDs
a red colored pencil
a red marker
a red mechanical pencil
a gigantic anthology of american poetry i have yet to dive into
a packet of cherry jello

The key slides in,
The tumblers are thrown,
The **** twists,
The hinges glide,

The coat thrown aside,
The hat as well.
The carpet is tread,
The shoes wiped,

The kettle put on,
The blanket grabbed,
The radio plays
a favorite song.

The window looked through,
The ground covered in snow,
in April, no less;
but the birds are new!

I find myself
indulging with tangible objects
- Books,
Movies,
Food,
Music -
because intangible objects like
- Love,
Trust,
Belonging,
Lust -
won’t ever touch me
the way these
tangible objects do.

I took two totems
and held them to
myself
one in my right pocket
and one in my left
for clenching
tight in reminder
while walking about
of what's really
important
​

a brass bull
keychain strung
to the keys
that opened my home
and made it mine
​
​
for prosperity
and material health
and weighing down
to the ground
​
​
and a little hunk
of lapis lazuli
speckled through
with golden
glitters
​

for keeping
bright blue and
buoyant
my spirit


the bull broke off
its chain and
left a dangling void
a superfluous
jangle
wiggling on old
keys turned in
to an old landlord


the stone
slipped out of my
jacket pocket
in a cab to the
airport to a plane
to the other side
of the world
​

now of my totems
but a short refrain
and a
memory's glitter
remain
​



© 2017 Adelaide Heathfield

OLD



Take the lid off the old wooden box and peer inside, what is there? What do you see? An old bullet from the Korean war, a discoloured gemstone from a broken lover’s necklace.

A curling yellow photo of lost teenage friends, now no more, one lost to drugs.

Some ancient coin from a faraway land, unreadable language.

Now put back the lid and pause for thought. If you were to have a keepsake,

what would it be?

Eat Me
Big wolf ate the large monster.
Now the big wolf is shaped like a whale.
He took on a different form.
All because of his unique diet.
Each time he eats, he looks different.
On his last occasion he ate a cat.
And looked like a dog.
A unique genetic event.
If he ate me, what would he look like?
A battleship or nuclear missile?
Shall we find out?
Eat me eat me eat me.

Life goes by so fast, there’s no time to look back,
And notice the flaws and qualities I so definitely lack.
I’m traveling life’s everlasting train,
Which seems to only retrieve the sadness, the pain.

Simply put, life is death.
The only difference is,
Whether you choose to get back up and finally live again.

Life stabs you so many times, that you mentally bleed.
It seems there’s never enough of what you actually need.
Oh, and in case you were wondering, money is nothing.
It’s another headband in the great race we’re all running.

No products or items can fill our hearts and make us happy,
For we all are told that we need these things and we keep on adding,
The worthless objects compared to our immaculate souls.
We all can share them, but we feel too scared, too old.
The ones who risk everything are the shy who are undoubtedly bold.

Let me paint my kitchen in bright colours,
Let the morning light bounce off oranges and yellows.
Let me paint each bathroom tile with abandon,
And let each windowsill hold life.
I will build homes for my literature and
The walls will collect memories.

Leave the door open and the floor clean,
Leave the garden wild and the drawers crowded.
Let the wood have character and the rugs have texture.
Take care and let be.