Best Junkyard Poems
Bygone youth carelessly spent
Damaged goods years of torment
Guiltless heart cruelly scarred
Abandoned in junkyard charred
Spent days wasted nights crying
Torment focused on dying
Scarred and marred deep to the bone
Charred wishes on a moonstone
Submitted on March 9, 2019 to contest JUEJU-QUIJUE WITH A TWIST sponsored by CHARLES MESSINA - RANKED 1ST
Categories:
junkyard, abuse, angst, anxiety, betrayal,
Form:
Jueju
through lean years
in this thing called life
i’ve tended to my garden
erected walls with what i could
made a shelter called it mine
i filled each corner
in convoluted ways
with memories and fantasies
along the way weeds got the best of me
my garden looks more like a junkyard
a roadmap of regrets discarded
scruffy trails of abandoned rejects
milestone remnants of betrayals
sometimes i meander
thru the backlanes of my mind
both the garden and the junkyard
intermingling in a unique form of art
it’s messy but i claim it as my own
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology book ~IN THE GARDEN OF MY FANTASY~ 2023
Read on air by invitation ~ January 16, 2022 'POETS HARBOUR'
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on October 5, 2019 for contest MY FAVORITE JUNKYARD sponsored by CRAIG CORNISH - RANKED 12TH
Categories:
junkyard, age, garden, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse
On one sultry August day
In a clearing in the woods
Within a long delay
for salvaged auto goods
Amid decaying vans, under glaring sun
High above one ant, homebound, on the run...
Along a rugged trail
of micro hill and dale
Between pebbles and sprigs
Over shards and twigs
For seconds brief, beneath a leaf
‘Round a rock, willy nilly
Root outcrop, dilly dally;
Up the maple, fast
With head-on-haul in grasp
In and out of bark
Inside crevice, dark
Astride the edge, at last
Across a lichen patch
Behind broad leaves of dark green hue —
To my chagrin, beyond my view;
Out from under the shade
Into the open glade
Within the reflective collage
of glinting metals and shards
Beneath the tranquil sky — recharged!
Categories:
junkyard, education, nature, summer, sun,
Form:
Rhyme
A collaboration with Kim van Breda - honored Kim
I've tossed some dreams
into corners
where they sit rusting -
dissected spare thoughts
for a restomod old body
smartly attired with
polished imperfections
swum life's streams
through currents
undulating promises
the color of sandstone
desert miles, turreted
rhododendrons, watered
slips off the extreme
thrown mortified moments
over the fence where
sophistication hid ,then
disguised what still is
numerous rooms,
dust gilded mirrors
flaking walls and trunk
decadence, borderline
decaying memories
of dazed indifference
garnering
no hitters pitched
on dream fields
where egos never bled
and superman never died;
pink tutu skirts wrapped
in the dust of past bright
alighted reminiscence
suspended in stage fright
pirates that held back
on black eye patches,
standing up against
their sick bullying;
tightfisted, shaken
clenched teeth hidden,
beneath awkward smiles
the nights wore down my
introspectiveness
while quicksand roses
reluctantly blushed...still
this virtual room will hold
all that my conscience
will forgive, casting
away offending lies
diffusing damaged
junk yard favorites
Categories:
junkyard, life,
Form:
Free verse
the end is not so close
but I'm still drowning
in all ponds of Mars
guilty and filthy
and walk down the alley
of sombre solstice
swearing at walls
after the heist gone wrong
now the everlasting
ambulance siren
echoes through
the tumbledown lands
through sullen skies
through every selfish mind
dancing at the balcony
without a handrail
is better than the eternal
junkyard romance
but time travel dreams
keep me awake
and asleep at the same time
drill time! pill time!
crucify your social image
even earthquake is more fun
talk to yourself
break window panes
but never buy a mirror
rather take it from the junkyard
and engrave your name on it
'cause someone has to
notice or break it
Categories:
junkyard, imagery, surreal, words,
Form:
Free verse
Picture a junkyard in your mind
a weed infested field covered with rusting hulls
that once were dear
to someone
some met with violent ends
wrecked in the prime of their lives
others were simply cast aside
no longer needed
or wanted
superimpose a homeless shelter
over the scene of the junkyard
how strange
they overlap and become
the same
Categories:
junkyard, life
Form:
My Favorite Junkyard was owned by Fred G. Sanford
The G stood for Good Times
He was full of surprise with humorous delight
As a kid I would visit his junkyard every night
If he wasn’t filling me with laughter, he was filling me with cheer
Oh, how I wish that Fred G was still here
He ran the junkyard with his son named Lamont
Going back and forth with a quirky response
They had the most junk that you could ever imagine
From the floor to the ceiling always ready to cash in
He had a sister-in-law that he loved to hate
Her name was Ester and she always took his bait
Fred had a good buddy and his name was Grady
When they linked up, you always know it was shady
Fred had great health but there was one drawback
Fred was always faking like he had a heart attack
Grabbing his chest with his hand in the air
Screaming, Oh! Elizabeth, I’m coming to join you there
Dear old Fred always kept me in laughter
He never sold a thing but he was such a great actor
Categories:
junkyard, appreciation, dedication, funny, growing
Form:
Rhyme
In the junkyard of life
What do you see?
What do your eyes focus on?
Do you see the rusted forgotten?
Do you feel the presence of greatness?
Or all you recognize is the trash and weeds blowing about the ground
In life there are many relics
Glimpses of the past; present now
Are you willing to buff and clean to find its potential or do you ignore it's beauty?
Can you look past the decay?
To bring it back again with touches of love and grace
Every junkyard hides a treasure
Something forgotten, Something lost, Something discarded
But to look beyond can be the greatest sensation, the greatest belief
Reaching beyond the obvious
Seeking a different kind of richness
Can turn up the ultimate vision, the ultimate recognition, the ultimate declaration
I am here waiting to be discovered in your own junkyard of dreams.
Categories:
junkyard, journey, life, uplifting,
Form:
Free verse
Hey!!!
Let me tell you about a place that exists,
you might find this hard to believe!
If your heart has ever been in a "love wreck"
it is towed here indefinitely!
The shock of it all,
to tell you the truth
is it really tore me apart-
to find out that the myth was real....
this "junkyard of broken hearts!"
This place was packed and stacked with hearts
that once had been in love-
I looked around and I knew at once
what nightmares are made of!
From top to bottom and right to left
as far as the eye could see,
this place gave a whole new meaning
to the phrase.....
"misery loves... company!"
I knew at once this was not the place
for an eternity to spend-
but heartbreaks take time
before hearts love again-
we need time to heal and then mend!
So on the highway of love
take special care
and remember
"this could be you!"
If you're breaking hearts,
one day you'll be next-
and to this junkyard
your heart will come too!!!
My advice to you,
if your love is true
and has been that way from the start-
don't cause a love wreck
or one day you'll be towed
to the
"junkyard of broken hearts!"
Categories:
junkyard, heartbreak, humor, love, passion,
Form:
Rhyme
Grammie’s Basement
A quiet place of rest covered with the dust of decades
Where wicker chairs of discarded summer days
Sit with tangled strings of Christmas lights on their laps
Alongside ornaments of glass so thin a whisper shatters shining globes;
Bowler hats and boxes of stray buttons among the useless collar stays
Seek reunion with blouses out of fashion and starched collars;
Puzzles, games - pieces missing - a china doll, one shoe lost,
Takes tea with tea sets buried beneath cards of celebrations long forgotten
In melodies of old records played upon a phonograph
Stuffed with card decks of fifty one, without their jokers,
And cancelled checks - records of a life now passed
In steamer trunks and satin shoes near yellowed lace on broad brimmed hats,
In sewing patterns seen through new eyes as re-purposed treasures
Awakened from their moth ball naps and cardboard catacombs,
Blue mason jars filled again with harvesting preserved, refinished rockers,
Crystal lanterns lighting up the twilight, walking sticks restored,
Pictures welcomed back to life, remembering names forgotten,
And fabrics reborn into warming winter quilts beneath the stars,
Witnessing their rebirth, gracing once again a sleigh bed -
Life no longer waiting for revival – rejoicing in the resurrection.
10-21-19
Craig Cornish
My Favorite Junkyard
Categories:
junkyard, grandmother, life, memory, tribute,
Form:
Free verse
Stained yellow teeth, decades of mistreatments;
Tattered worn hair, mustered stare...
Worn torn shoes just vagabond, dementia rusted mind;
Seems he's been here before, open spaces relics;
My yard is filled with junk; What's up--
Rusted rattled metal, such a waste dried up sores, rusted;
Out of date ragged clothes, ON THE FENCE
Decades of mistreatments, homeless surrounded by substance;
His environment anywhere, his life going nowhere;
If he dies right now will his organs be parted out;
Guts and organs sold he mutters and says I am a junk yard;
My mind scrap collected recycled discarded;
I'm dream his dreams of preoccupation;
Trapped in thoughts odiousness wrecked spirit;
The populist calls the me lay;
Homeless thoughts on his private injustice;
My the junk, my mind is trash Died
So people cried another thrown away soul;
Deposited...
thrown away as an ...Junkyard
10/5/19
For My Favorite Junkyard
Sponsored by: craig cornish
Categories:
junkyard, analogy, bereavement, corruption, depression,
Form:
Free verse
I'm just a junkyard dog.
Old scars tell my story.
I'm left water and scraps.
Alone in the dark I sleep
and dream of a better life
and love with es
I smell beyond fences.
Love is just out of reach.
Categories:
junkyard, life,
Form:
Free verse
I throw it out then bring it back
A somewhat hoarder, I have that knack
I keep in mind the things I love
Then store them back within my hub
A sound of music a touch of scent
Allows nostalgia a place to vent
A memory made or thought perhaps lost
A junkyard backpack on my forward path
When on the surface I dig down deep
To find a memory within my fleet
The ones I pull have high impact
They keep my emotions right on track
Such days are downs until they’re ups
My conscience divulges outward puffs
From childhood reflections to adult recap
I reminisce from my junkyard backpack
Date: October 23, 2019
Sponsored by: Craig Cornish
Categories:
junkyard, imagery, nostalgia, sound,
Form:
Rhyme
Rusty old sins burden my soul
Sending me broken parts,
Pieces of my most sinful thoughts
Lies, betrayals, grudges and hatred
So many moments of livid rage
Gripping the words of anger that
Passed my lips and colored another’s
Heart with wrath so furious it slashes
There are desperations that grip me
Confine my heart with despair and fear
Anxiety that nurses my old wounds
And commands me to simply not care
Along the walls of my heart, a line of
Wrecked emotions and irate passions
Respond to my yearning for affection
With reminders of what I have been
Sins are carefully judged and taken apart
By a heart that is hungry for a taste of hope
The savory blessing sent by God’s Son
Who died for these parts in my junkyard
October 4, 2019
My Favorite Junkyard Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: craig cornish
Categories:
junkyard, christian, faith, forgiveness, god,
Form:
Free verse
The mobile mind indomitable
the rider of life waves
with curled crests of fractured moonbeam
and dark agony troughs of drowned stars
spread breaking on the shore of the past.
The crushed sands carve seaward footprints
the weathering antique contours of decay
time arrow points to topography beyond the shore
away from the eroded wasteland abandoned
where landfill devours the unusurped hopes.
The weed-webbed terrain deep within
piles the wreckage of life unlived
the flushing garden turns metallic maze
the pathway paved outside its fence
waits to be walked
to the mesmeric meadow of tomorrow.
The invented alchemy of memory
glitters gold in the rusted crust of ruins
marigold blooms in the scrap heap
in the Midas touched junkyard.
October 7, 2019
Categories:
junkyard, analogy, memory, time,
Form:
Free verse