DUSTY OLD BOX OF MEMORIES
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The attic is a time capsule when time stops and nostalgia lives. Inside, the very air hangs heavy, thick with a musty scent and the weight of upspoken stories. Amongst the jumbled collection of forgotten treasures, a dusty old box of memories remains untouched, draped in a shroud of white dust like winter’s first snowfall. Although reluctant to open the attic door and venture forth, I wonder if perhaps the box holds more value than I’m willing to admit.
memories like wisps of gray smoke
dance upon the wind's breath
fleeting moments caught
frozen frames of love and pain
moments lived, now lost in time
untold stories sleep
yet their essence remains
haunting whispers in my mind
a bittersweet refrain
IN ATTIC HALLS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In attic halls of memories past,
I find solace in stories steadfast.
For in the remnants of a life lived and told,
lies the truth of who I am, young and old.
Triviality concentrated static
Overture to a long trending collaboration
Yare are the toys in the attic
Silently, stealthily, slowly
He strolled with great care
So as to avoid the floorboard
That would squeak
And seal his fate
Smiling, sweating, successful
He slid past the enemy
That could terminate
The solace he sought
And savored
Sulking, seething, sitting
He swallowed day old soup
And dreamt of caviar
That could soothe his craving
And his sanity
Softly, safely, soberly
He slipped into serenity
Without a struggle
Into the shelter of eternity
And secrets
unearthed belongings...
gasps of pleasant astonishment;
e u r e k a!
white elephants galore...
many treasures, too!
fallen into decades of desuetude
old clothes and shoes
to be donated to charity;
some books to be thrown away.
a silver locket, I thought lost;
inscribed with the word "Dreamer"
on the inside.
birthday gift many, many years ago
from my first love. wow!
anything can happen...
as ridiculous as it sounds
like a...lodged-hic can...
end-tear one's mind and so some...
't'-(rain-a-sour-ass) rump starts yelling farts
claiming that the game board is his and...
so too...is your future
len
Attic Window
The attic windows affect a
particular anger for
tax fraud.
there's no one around you see
it's just me and cliff
ear buds help cushion the volume
my smartphone warns me
it could damage my ears
i put it at full volume
it's 9:40pm and the family are asleep
this could go on all night
cliff said he was proud he never adopted a
hedonistic rock and roll lifestyle and never wanted
to trash a hotel room
i've just trashed the attic
Journals, diaries, and old love letters,
recollections from a long ago me,
Pulled form dusty bins hidden in attics,
springing into life through fond memory.
Read through misty eyes, those words of passion,
of desires, worries, joy, death, and sorrow,
Expressing our lust and undying love
yearning to face what hides in tomorrow.
Our eagerness of youth knew no boundaries,
as we prepared for love’s journey to start.
Though our minds were innocent and naive,
you and I have forever shared one heart.
There's a space with no light.
So much crammed up there!
Wonderful treasures in the front,
Trash in behind.
Images and memories all muddled together.
Loads of ideas and half thought out plans
scattered all over the place.
Should have had some order!
How does one clear their mind and start over?
They say prayers, patience, some guidance
and will power can put a new light
in the attic of my mind!
Erratic Static in Attic Horn Haiku
being erratic
seemed to be so much static
which was in the attic
Their footsteps returned
as a shroud fell around me
Hiding me from the heels
of their jackened boots
Direction was lost
escape but a memory
Shouting their curses
re-echoing the past
(Shadows Of Anne Frank: November, 2023)
I see a rotting occlude on the drywall in my attic at the peak of the ceiling beyond the walls veil for outside of it I came as a worm in a large world at the very core of a rotting apple only being who I am to be cast out as an abomination hoped to be dead but I want to heal everything escape this dreadful red.
Away in the attic,
No dusting for years,
I'm sneezing and sneezing!
Eyes brimming with tears!
Now why did I come here?
For that box of books,
Too heavy and dirty,
Ruined my good looks!
Brown smears on my blue dress,
Smudges on my cheeks!
It's better I climb down,
Before someone peeks!
Atishoo! Atishoo!
Oh my! Falling down!
No wonder they call me
"The clumsiest clown"!!
a hot morning sun
attic attack
means a
tick-tock evening of
cool air
settling
on the roof causing an
attic air
attack
on the rooms below so
screened windows
are
opened that a fan can rid
heat out
the house
stan sand
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