#jewelry
didn’t let my wounds get infected
by your names mere mention
didn’t let the salt be invested
i trust myself without testing
is this a testament to healing?
getting over the mountain
crossing the river of feeling
i would’ve never guessed
i would’ve never planned
my orbit was warped
my body was perpetually spent
i hold you in my jewellery box
i visit you often or more than once
i hold you in my jewellery box
i value your presence but i never wear you out
it’s not my style anymore
but once upon a time
it certainly was
Apr 27
Apr 27, 2026 at 3:59 PM UTC
I'll wear your
bones like jewelry
in my ears, like
precious
trophies, and
like pins in
my hair.
I love you so much that
I wish nothing more
than for
you to be
with me
always.
Feb 23, 2021
Feb 23, 2021 at 9:50 PM UTC
They're dividing up my grandmother's jewelry,
An act that feels more final than death.
I like to think she rests easy as she watches
The women she loves wear what was once hers.
They ask me to choose my top 3 pieces,
And how do I?
How do I choose which pieces of her I want to wear on my body
Like armor, like memories of made of gold or silver?
How do I choose between her trip to the Met Museum
Or the pin with the propeller signalling she was the
First licensed female pilot in the state of Kentucky?
What does it say about me this is the one time I wish she hadn't gotten her wings?
I want to wear her artist spirit.
I already have her poet's blood running through me.
This woman, in all her fiery, tender ways
Touches my life.
I hope she'd be proud I'm wearing her jewelry.
So many decisions to make.
Nov 8, 2020
Nov 8, 2020 at 9:13 PM UTC
In the pandemic of trust
what I found was him
he made sense of my mess
all that he cared of was my stress
all I must say to him
was a brother
He uplifted the standards
of brother for me
where I could be a commander
and he being a tree
to provide all that I need
or what I deprive of
Where there is no way
out there
he would not betray
what I choose are devils
And what he pray is
high-level
In the pandemic of love
he taught me something beyond
beyond feelings
beyond security
he gave the safest place
to reside in
he booked it for my entire life
and the irony is
I am not known for its rent
What I am familiar with is
he is a goldsmith
and I being his jewelry
would be in his locker
one more familiar thing
is there
this ornament is nothing
without her goldsmith.....
💕
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 12:03 PM UTC
Hanging from hooks on display,
Are chains with special charms on the ends.
Some are preserved nature,
Like the tiny mushroom surrounded by grass,
Or the dead butterfly with no legs,
And the resin heart of a purple flower.
Some are crystals,
Like the tiger’s eye pendant,
The beads of blue goldstone,
Or the pendulum of smoky quartz,
And the agate that looks like a purse.
Some are special and connected to memories,
Like the golden locket from a date,
Or the silver snowflake from an aunt,
The green Buddha,
And the gold Buddha both from my grandmother.
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 5:24 PM UTC
Dramatic faces and dancing clowns, who's next to make a frown.
Acrobatics and tiger tamers.
Creepy smiles, chills down your spine, oh look? there's Alice In Wonderland with her time rabbit friend. Creepy places, so eerie and dark, don't you want to come with me and see the other side of Circus Wonderland? where every creature comes to life. Even the unknown.
Their all wild, their running for their lives, going untamed but trying to tame.
Let's go to Circus Wonderland, where there's hot bags of crunchy popcorn bliss in the summer air.
Colorful lights, beaming sounds of fright.
Portals to unknown dimensions, where things we dream of come to life.
Come take a ride on the wild side darling, i promise you'll be alright.
Let's go to Circus Wonderland, where even the ballerina over the jewelry box dances under the diamond ring while the tamed lion jumps through the ring of fire.
Jun 9, 2020
Jun 9, 2020 at 12:17 PM UTC
incomplete
lost
unscrewed
without a pair
Jan 16, 2020
Jan 16, 2020 at 7:23 AM UTC
Clear, glimmering, white.
His hand claims the sequined waist
That he earned to hold with jewells.
Cut, polished, sewn.
The chandelier above emanates
The ones hung from her ears.
Strung, tied, boxed.
Not as much a girl's best friend
As a man's trophy wife ticket.
Bought, gifted, worn.
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 3:19 PM UTC
by mistake, a fleeting touch
i dare not move, nor utter a sound
the world spun as it held me
before coming to a full stop
souls leapt out from their windows
jewelry slipped off my wrist
for me who waited, it felt like eternity
for you, prolly a millisecond only
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 6:58 PM UTC
I want to write poetry,
I want to paint your sky with a million colors,
Or tell you how beautiful you really are.
But the words in my head are a thin gold necklace,
Knotted in 80 different ways
Impossible to unravel, except by those with steady hands
And patience.
Patience to sit alone and focus
To pay attention
As they pull at each part of the knot,
Slowly breaking away parts of the chain
Sometimes grabbing the wrong section, that isn’t quite ready to be yanked out yet.
It might take months, or even a year if you lose focus.
Once you finally see each loop of the delicate chain,
You can wear it upon your neck.
See how beautiful it really is,
And how easily it can break,
Or be knotted all over again
But jewelry can’t untangle itself,
And who has time to untangle a necklace when you can pick up some earrings instead.
Tell me, is it worth it?
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 11:31 AM UTC
Just one look
You’re a luminescent light in a dark grey world.
No bling necessary; it pales into insignificance next to your beauty.
Metal on hand, that piece does not suit you.
A classic band of gold I think you would suit. You suit me.
There is no need to advertise your full time commitment.
It is clear from your beauty, you are already meant,
For another to love, but all sane men would look in the hope,
That there had never been a tan line on your ring-finger…but no.
These eyes do not lie or deceive.
True feelings left to their dreaming,
Of what might have been,
If only there could have been a way;
And one day I will forget you…but not today.
No other has come along who could ever replace,
Or compare to thee. They are less than could be.
I know you will never be mine,
But all wandering minds are fixed on thou
And all of thine divine beauty.
In a far off land lives a travelling man.
He once saw you as you passed by his window.
Since that day he has scaled mountain tops and mined his way,
Through all the gold, always asking, do you know? Do you know,
Who she was?
Once seen, never gone.
Unfortunately you will always remain,
Lost.
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 3:46 AM UTC
If you were jewelry
You would be
A mood ring;
Pretty to look at
But hard to read.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 2:03 PM UTC
I know a girl that piles on the necklaces
“Makes me look pretty,” she says
She’s all nervous, high-pitched laughter that jangles
as she fidgets with her armored collarbones
Rose red rashes bloom around ivory flesh,
She scratches at her skin inflamed
Ring ring ring around her pretty little neck
With those posey necklaces and gemstones
She smiles fondly at each reflection
of chains and rocks entangled
Wrung wrung wrung of beauty is she
Bitten so fiercely to her ivory bones
Her laughter hacks into little cough spurts,
and the metal winks dully as it strangles
Ring ring ring around her rosy little neck--
she piles on more necklaces.
Jan 16, 2018
Jan 16, 2018 at 1:31 AM UTC
I write like a sage, wandering to
collect visions and experiences
with pen as staff.
I move with words adorned
as if fine jewels.
Words become diamonds.
Phases, strings of pearls.
Stanzas like hand crafted broaches
And punctuation, precious stones to accentuate.
My jewelry is priceless.
My display box the vellum page.
I am my best friend.
StarBG © 2017
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 1:48 PM UTC
Sere and yellow,
Rough and round, [bright pebbles in a mound]
Pitted and mellow,
Winding our necks round,
We wore them.
Amber beads unearthed from clay,
Fashioned by my artist love,
Glowing yellow, filled with day,
Captures sunbeams from above.
I still love them.
Some say gods have made these,
To ensnare the light of Sun,
But we women saved these,
In memory & hope of sons,
We keep them.
Fat & smooth as butter,
We turned them in our hands.
The bone beads scraped with madder,
The amber just with sand.
Those of shadowy carnelian
Embedded like a shield,
We treasure as we fear them,
Like wounds on battlefields.
The others soaked with brownish earth,
Sere and yellow,
Rough and round, [bright pebbles in a mound]
Pitted and mellow,
Winding our necks round,
We wore them.
So, when we are dead, take not from us,
These rounded, golden suns,
But bury them with us, with sword and severed buss,
To revere the slaughtered ones,
Who never returned to us.
Revised November 15, 2016
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 8:55 AM UTC
For my sixteenth birthday she gave me a locket
Which I keep inside a bag, inside a box, inside of my drawer
All shiny and silver, with initials engraved
Carved on its back the date forever saved
It is resting undisturbed, never worn out
Though I try it out from time to time
Put it on by the mirror and wonder to myself
This is who I would be had things stayed the same
I shake my heavy head, unclasp it from my neck
The last piece of you at last is removed
And yes, I do try to forgive
But to this day that locket stays
Inside of a bag, in a box, at the bottom of my drawer
I don't put it on anymore
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 10:46 PM UTC
When I have a Friday night...
When I have $57 to last me until late July...
When I have holes or stains in all my clothes... When I am more a burden, than not...
When I have a smile even though I'm lonely...
When I have lost my friends because I'm not convenient…
When I work myself sick for a $2 trip...
When I finally can't possibly give even just one more hand...
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 1:49 AM UTC
the words
are beads and gems
and hooks and strings
scattered in a box
somewhere in
the softness behind my breastbone
my palms are up to catch the key
whenever it chooses to land
a pandora poised
to make ornaments
from all she uncovers,
all she unleashes
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 1:24 PM UTC
I collect memories of you
and wear them like a charm bracelet
They delicately dangle and glint in the sun
like tiny wind chimes
You are cast in silver
cold to the touch, yet warm on my wrist
Chain-link ringlets coil closer than your hair
loose clasp, smooth hands
Flawless fractals falling one by one
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 2:29 AM UTC