Record Collections

In a closet, stuffed in bags,
My records gather dust.
The player’s gone and speakers, too,
But keeping them’s a must.

My friend is giving hers away,
But on the other side,
My sister got my cousin’s batch,
Passed to her when he died.

I hear that vinyl’s coming back,
Yet those of us of age,
Remember our collections,
Adding groups we saw on stage.*

It was a thrill to hear a song
And buy a new LP,
Which way back then was how
We gained accessibility.

A needle on a record,
Careful, so it wouldn’t scratch,
Did provide a magic feeling that
No other modes can match.

*Often on The Ed Sullivan Show
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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Kingston Avatar
November 3, 2024 at 6:56 PM
Gosh, this poem is just exactly my story too. When my father died, my sister went to clean his house out & tossed all my old records out. Do you remember Super Tramp? Some are worth thouands now, especially the one where the Beatles are walking across the street. Not in my collection. :( Ironically, and lucky for me, I married a disc jockey who still has hundreds!
Flood Avatar
October 30, 2024 at 12:16 PM
I could never part with any record I ever bought. I can pretty much recall when and where I bought each one. Of course vinyl was a joy; a massive cover, readable lyrics, maybe even a poster. CDs are a poor relation and mp3s leave me cold. So hang on to those records, Ilene, they’re like stepping stones through life.
Cunningham Avatar
October 28, 2024 at 1:27 AM
Lol, You're like me Ilene, got loads of vinyl, cds and mp3s, just can't let go. Tom
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