nic-nacs and what-nots
stored in drawers,
rusty tins,
and bins galore
once again
I'm back with them
and all the things
that might have been
a snapshot
ah! that day on the beach
what ever happened to the two of them?
a set of casters to a broken chair
it seems funny now
but was deemed a disaster back then
why was my first coloring book saved?
I see, I stayed within the lines
what the hell was wrong with me!
pictures of old fogy relatives
I'm now older then they were at the time
that's so weird
a wrinkled playbill "The Killing Of Sister George"
lots of loud talkers, that's all I remember
Laura asked me to go. she was cute
some early drawings of mine
possibly the genesis of my rebellion
expressionism beyond the boundaries of good taste
an old beat up address book
most of the people are already dead
Oh! yes, I almost forgot
I came down here to add a note to the collection
...my last will and testament
"in the event of my death...burn it all"
Comments
living in the past..coming to
living in the past..coming to the present ...then realizing about future captured/crafted so well...from start till the end lines you created a great short story doing the rounds in your mind space...
a pleasure read..which also made me reminisce..
.........................................................................................................
hey Raj
I tried using mini-scenarios that most others could relate to
You make it sound like I succeeded to some degree
I am glad about that
thanks for noticing the craftwork ...an important aspect of writing (especially poetry)
my mind space is now open to the public!
Perfect write and great
Perfect write and great ending.
Many poems listing things
begin as a list and stay that way,
yours, on the other hand, ends
with a yell "Burn it all!!!"
I love the bitter and smocky taste of it.
you have been very
you have been very complimentary of my "stuff"
I am flattered and might be getting a little smocky over it
It feels good though, so thank you IRiz
...and now the pressure is on to maintain the standard
slap me around if I get too full of myself
Anytime!
Anytime!
But now again I like Nabokov-Proustian feal of the poem.