Antiques Poems

Old antiques and memories

4 July 2024 8:24 AM

Visiting folks with well lived lives
It helps them remember and to thrive

They speak of events long time past
Of family and friends and history gone to fast

They point to pictures and old worn antiques
To them common place but to the younger unique

We look and listen as their stories unfold
We wonder and compare

Antiques

See dazzling bowls and vessels, pots of brass
Old copper kettles, cups of gold, and chiming clock
Porcelain statuettes, fake Tiffanies, stained glass
Oak storage towers, ivories of High Baroque 
Stroll down the antiques on Sunday noon
I’m fascinated by the scarab sooty bronze
I lost my face inside the silver spoon
In tapestries of life, with nymphs and fauns
We’ve changed,

Are These Antiques Too

These are antiques the old lady said.
All of them?
She nodded.
Even these?

I held up a Fisher Price toy barn.
Especially that! She said.
I left feeling bewildered.
I had just held up my children’s favorite childhood toy.

Are my children also antiques?
And if they are antiques,
Where do I stand? What does this make me?
I got into my covered wagon and

Country Flea Market

Outside a quaint town in fair Vermont,
by my family’s vacation home,
is a small field with fences and sign,
in the warm month’s it’s a place to go.

They have a flea market on weekends,
rows of tents pitched under mountains green,
for most people it is just old junk,
but it is fascinating to me.

There’s a tent that’s selling goat-milk

Dream After the Death of a Friend

I dreamed I was hanging out with Darroll near the train station. We entered a prison cafeteria and ate lunch. Then we looked in a junk store and I found two really cool vintage iron tools which I gave Darroll for his rusty iron tool collection (which, in my dream, he had). At some point

Antiques

I go about my daily tasks that are necessary
to keep a household humming along smoothly
like the works of the antique clock on my dresser
over a century and a quarter old
The little teeth of the gears interlocking
spinning, turning to keep accurate time
Springs wound taut with a small key
The weighted pendulum swinging to and fro
like a metronome

Heirloom Whispers

In the antique store
an old physician’s desk,
walnut and marble-topped,
holding the remnants of a life
of service; 
stories etched in 
wood, metal and stone.

Next to part of an old syringe,
a can of ether, half full;
it’s lid rusted shut
and a stethoscope
sporting the cracked rubber
tubing, of a bygone era.
A clock that once worked, 
a necessity for any physician
or scientist;

Antiques and Memories

Within halls that all but speak,
Sit elegant objects, very antique;
Treasured and valued bits of past,
Which care and devotion made last.

A museum crowded with sweet memory,
Like of dead, red robin's late beauty!
The glossy mirror gracing the wall,
At ruddy sunset, reflects them all.

A china doll; a royal wedding gown,
The king's rubied coronation crown.
The past is revived in

Anything Antique

I’m fascinated by antiques, things of yesterday.
I search in shops of every kind, near and far away.
I gaze into the windows at the priceless treasures there,
a china doll, a wagon, a cuddly teddy bear,
gently worn old toys that some child loved and kept
beside them in the dark of night to comfort as they slept.
There’s a

Browsing the Antiques

In a store that sells antiques,
The past is much alive,
Including parts that we’d prefer
Did somehow not survive.

Some creepy dolls and ugly clothes
And jewelry I’d not wear
Forlornly grace the shelves without
Their one-time savoir faire.

But other items bring a smile
Or memory to bear – 
A Popeye pin, some Beatles cards 
And much Fiestaware.

Three typewriters with all their

Antiques and Curios

Antiques and Curios

A collection of Antiques and curios,
Covered in dust on a cellar floor.
Things once made for a purpose,
No longer of use anymore.
 
Record Player with wind-up handle,
Once sung out the old Seventy-eights.
A music box with broken spring,
Film scores of the all-time greats.
 
Gas mask, unused in a chest,
A wartime ration book, stained, slightly torn.
Hobnail

Antiques Roadshow

collectible things
tweaks our brains
and pleasure it brings
its odd but still
the antiquing bug
got me to a thrill

Home Dreams

Oh, my, how excited, elated, I would be
to receive sudden financial prosperity.
The true appeal would not be the tangible
but the freedom I have longed to handle.

It is so easy and fun to imagine
the idyllic dream-cottage I would fashion.
If my pen and intent have successful flair,
Perhaps I can transport us all there.

One super, great thing about

Antiques At the Sawmill

Mom has always loved antiques
I have never asked her why
Perhaps it's the connection to the past
Maybe the craftsmanship
The smell of ancient wood
The curves
The fact that they were built to last

She turned a passion into a business
A few small pieces in her living room
A sign on a door
Interesting how businesses are born
Bob there by her side
Together

Antiques Road Rage

Antiques Road Rage

A country joy ride changed in a moment
An ancient old car, (older than me), takes me on 
A simple mission
To work on my English
The words didn’t come to address my anger
So I lifted my fossil like finger….at a gingerly pace….
Out the car window of my turtle-mobile
To communicate my feelings to a fool in

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• Antiques Quotes