Best Closet(A) Poems
Treasure Chest of Memories
Cleaning out my closet a chore this is sure to be. A day at best to dig through this stuff packed and stacked to the ceiling. Now, where to start and what to keep! Might as well start here at the top and get moving.
What on earth was I thinking to bring this home, out it goes? This looks like a keeper; it goes over here. This is cute I think I’ll keep it too. When did I get this; I don’t even remember it must not be too important, it can go too.
Now for my treasure chest filled with special things. A breathless moment as I open the lid and spot things; treasures from my past. Oh so many beautiful memories packed in here and tucked safely away in my heart as well. Time slows down as I savor each moment in time each of these treasures brings back to me.
I can’t believe this, it’s still so beautiful. Oh my God just look at this; it was my baby girls! I will always have her in my heart and treasure chest too. This is perfect, I remember this too! I had hoped this day would never end. This was the most special thing ever given to me; I remember crying in secret with pure joy.
This cut through my heart and left such a scar, I knew life would never be the same! I can’t believe at times I survived my very own life. Tears now stinging, no falling down my face; partly joy, partly sadness! This treasure chest holds so many memories; none of which I can part with.
I know these will always be with me buried inside my heart and tucked inside this chest. My mind will always remember each one of these, some sad, some happy but all are mine to remember!
Debbie Knapp.
There are perfumed letters from you On the top shelf of the hall closet A fire hazard to my soul In the shadows of the night
CHILD WARRIOR
, BORN IN A FIGHT
MAKING FRIENDS WITH THE NIGHT.
TWO PEOPLE WHO WON’T SEE WHAT THEIR DOING ISN’T RIGHT.
TURNING HER IN TO A FIGHTER
USING EVERTHING LEFT INSIDE OF HER.
A HOME A BATTLE GROUND
AND BY HIS BRUSES SHE HIDES SHE IS BOUND.
HER CLOSET A SANTUARY,
A SAFE HAVEN SHE GOES TO GET AWAY.
WHERE SHE WRITES POEMS TO EAS HER PAIN.
IN A MESS OF BLANKETS WHER HER BROKEN BODY LAIN.
CHILD WARRIOR
FIGHT FOR IT’S THE ONLY WAY YOU CAN LIVE
PEOPLE CAN ONLY TAKE WHAT YOU HAVE TO GIVE.
SO MUCH YOU MUST SACRIFICE.
BEING BORN WAS TO HIGH A PRICE.
MIDDLE CHILD AND OLDEST CHILD WRAPED UP IN ONE
YOUR RESPONSIBLITIES HAVE ALREADY BEGUN.
WHEN YOU’RE SMALLER THAN YOUR FATHER YOU KNOW WHOM WON.
YOU CAN’T FIND TIME TO FEEL WHAT GONE,
WHEN YOU’RE LOOKING OVER YOUR SHOULDER AFRAIND OF SOMEONE.
YOUR BODY MAY BRAKE BUT A SPIRIT CAN TAKE
WHAT YOU HAVE INDURED IN THIS HEART ACHE.
CHILD WARRIOR
YOU AR INVINCABLE.
AND INSIDE UN-BREAKABLE.
ONE DAY YOU WILL TELL A STORY OF A CHILD IN PARALE.
WHEN IT COMES TO STRENGTH YOU WON’T FAIL.
YOU HAVE LIVED ON TRENTH SINCE BEFORE YOU WERE BORN,
LIVING INSIDE A WOLD SCORN AND TORN.
YOU ONLY HAVE THE TOOLS OF WHO YOU ARE.
THEY CAN’T TAKE WHO YOU ARE.
YOU ENDURED ALL SITUATIONS AND CONFRINTATIONS.
YOU KNOW MANIPULATIONS.
DON’T BELIEVE THE LIES.
SEVER YOU EMOTIONAL TIES.
CHILD WARRIOR
PREPARE TO FIGHT
POOR SOLE YOU ARE BEING BORN TONIGHT
What's hiding in my bedroom?
Dark evil spirits of the night.
Always lurking in the shadows,
Forbidden to breach the light.
Constant whispering while I sleep,
Ever tormenting restless dreams.
Icy fingers clutching my throat,
Awakened me with fading screams.
Heart pounding as I look around,
In my closet; a stark surprise.
Peering coldly from the depths,
The subtle glow of angry eyes.
Stricken by fear and paralyzed,
Chills rush down my spine.
As the covers slip off the bed,
From below, a menacing whine.
A pair of hands tug at my feet,
And roughly jerk me to the floor.
Drug swiftly into the closet,
Then the sound of slamming door.
Tandem footsteps sprint down the hall,
Frightened parents come rushing in.
Now greeted by an empty room,
Never to see their child again.
She had been Mrs. Gallopi for twenty years
many times the name itself causing her tears
she knew Frank her husband was a mafia mercenary
landing many foes of his in the cemetery
She explained what had happened that fateful day
how Frank pulled a gun out of his pocket without delay
but the intruder drew first and shot him in the chest
while she hid in the bedroom closet a nervous wreck
Peeking out she had watched the whole drama unfold
and when it was safe ran to Frank whose flesh was cold
immediately she called 911 and the cops had arrived
explaining tearfully to them how she had survived
She told them she knew who the intruder was
and that he held against Frank a murderous grudge
so with that a US Marshall introduced himself
explaining that with mafia cases he always dealt
Going into the witness protection program right away
she had to abandon her identity and find another place to stay
orientation began and she gradually adjusted to her new life
no longer Mrs. Gallopi, a loyal mobsters wife.
6-13-18
A taken photograph
Black and gray it's all faded out
Burned to a crisp in this house
The stairs creaked just a touch
All this sadness is just too much
A bedroom towards the left
Purple sheets on that bed
Floors are half gone
In this house what went wrong?
It's hard to understand a place
A place you never seen
Until you know it's dreadful history
Brings you down to wondering
Why this house is falling
I move into a closet without a door
People say it's not a good place
I walk in to a cool breeze
Goosebumps cover my body
I give a slight cry
I hear a horrible noise
I jump to excitement
What could that be?
I walk in the closet a bit more
Wondering if there's a floor
I take a step and I fall
Upon this huge pile
What could this mean?
I see a red dress
In perfect condition
I pick it up
And say I remember
--- in that photograph lies a girl in a red dress, her spirit flies around. This was that house ---
Flutters…
the butterflies, a parachute of rainbow light
leaping from her pulse, her blond hair buoyant
heavenly honeysuckle wafting, immersing him
the daub of a fresh strawberry on her lips
Whispers of mystery,
in the dank closet, a couple strands.
a lovely blossom under her précieux top
perchance a predicament?
Happenstance, he thought happily
had bound two hearts, a pair of bodacious lips.
sinks his knees into the mire, they shake
no Virgin Mary in his mirror, mere...folly!
2/5/2019
Bardenesque Poetry Contest
Sponsor - John Hamilton
Words: Wafting, Daub, Whispers, Dank, Flutters, Perchance, Folly, Happenstance
Précieux - from the French, meaning precious
There are many nights, when I'm all alone.
The bedroom, the pillow. a small simple room.
I lie on my side, so quiet, the night,
Should I get up again for a snowy screen light.
Should I turn once more, should I creep down the hall.
Despite all this, I turn to the wall.
And instead of sleeping, when the sun takes it's rest.
I stare at the cracks, the paint, the chest.
And when the numbness kicks in, I turn once again.
A bathroom light, a closet, a fan whirling wind.
Ah yes, and then, normality sinks in...
And of all these objects, so aloof, so kempt.
I envy their apathy, I envy descent.
Wishful thinkings and longings of a a complete empty mind,
Tears of anxiety and fears of all kind.
Please give me sleep, please, make me less more.
I wish to be barren of feelings no more.
I ask you my friend, as I step in the wall.
Nail all of these boards, nail one, nail all.
And when the day comes, when a soul trembles with fear.
They'll hear my soft tapping... and know someone's is here.
And they shall sleep, so sweet, so deep in a dream.
For without them, they'll be lost, and forget what they mean.
Lisa was the very first love of my youth,
even her voice had the sound of a flute;
how funny she looked with those huge, black sunglasses
matching her blue bikini...honestly I had plenty of laughs!
I surely approached like any other boy would,
trying to mentally rehearse my intent...
and finding courage took a planned incident,
which made me conquer her with an insincere word.
"Sorry for messing up your clean blanket,
the hot sand burned my feet and I got mad!"
I humbly said with the tenderest voice to win her favor...
" No need to apologize. " she replied, touching her red hair.
And suddenly a summer steamy love began...
how delighted and how lucky I was to have gotten away so shamelessly
with my pretense, then she asked me to get off the hot sand
and sit on her blanket to listen to Cher...oh, she longed for her Sonny!
Lisa was the very first love of my youth filled with sensation;
when I open my cluttered closet, a withered carnation,
she put in my tuxedo jacket, still evokes our last date...
the eighties were a joy to explore with her without any haste.
On this day mine Morning Prayer
While I was in my prayer closet
There was a bird outside before dawn light
Outside my house talking/singing to God
The whole duration of my praying over one and one half-hour
Tweeting and chirping beautiful
His bird was singing
4/16/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
My Daughter’s Prayer Closet (A poem by Jesus)
My daughter’s prayer closet is ever-changing
First it was her van
Then it was her basement floor
Then it became a summertime meadow at dusk
Then it became a field near a horse’s pasture
Daughter,
You carried your insect repellent one night to meet me at dawn
Do you recall praying and swatting mosquitoes?
What many would call a demonic attack
I would call Mother Nature’s interruptions
Daughter,
I remember the multiple times you stared up at the sky begging me to reveal
my angels
Only to find out that I decided to show them to your coworker Sue instead
If I showed you every one of my mysteries then you would have nothing
exciting to talk about as you work with your patients and coworkers at the
hospital
Daughter,
Your prayer closet today was the chair at your desk
Yesterday it was the spot beside your doggy’s bed
Tomorrow you will be on bended knee beside your old walnut bed
How many prayer closets does my daughter have?
It grows each and every day!
Love,
Jesus
What's in the closet
Betty Davis old wired hanger
in the upper left hand corner spiders web
on the floor by the baseboard a mouse hole
and on the closet shelf an folded up patch quilt blanket
Grams old fur rabbit coat
nestled tween the raincoat and dad's work shirts
ragged old hoody
Mothballs scented smell entire closet a memory of useful things now hidden away
7/9/19
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
reluctantly I look through the window
children playing, their laughter
refreshes memories
hanging in the closet a little coat
its owner no longer plays
pain her new companion
Barbara Gorelick
THROUGH MY WINDOW
1/16/14
A spot on my shirt-cuff
a stain on a bathmat
In the back closet, a pile of stuff
a litter trail leads to the house cat
A chip in the mirror in the hall
a slight imperfection in the paint on the wall
Occasional drip from the bathroom faucet
Smoke alarm inoperable, ought to toss it
This is where the poet moralizes
sensing how quickly former standards slip …
Ha! Fooled ya! I now embrace compromise
Thanks for reading, pal ~
don’t forget my 25% tip
In My Mind A Manikin
In my closet a manikin will find
Always remaining in my mind;
Memory like her will never forget;
Though now gone and do regret.
She always has been self-sufficient
With quietness her time she spent
Only an image someone once made
Whose memory into passed did fade.
Jim Horn
Dedicated to Solomon