Best Knickknacks Poems
She wandered into the prissy bathroom hating it for its prettiness.
There were all kinds of trinkets and knickknacks
She reached for two, and threw them onto the floor.
The fairy broke into slivers bringing her at least a squeak of satisfaction.
What are you looking at? She demanded of the mirror.
Her face was puffy and unkind dark ugly mean circles under her eyes.
She glared at herself, considered breaking the mirror also.
She was in the mood to break, burn, and stab everything.
Her three best high school friends would all be married after Saturday.
She was the only one left not belonging to anyone.
No job, no life, no hope. Fast on her way to nowhere town.
She hated this house; this nonlife, this feeling of stuck.
The men she had met were liars, and narcissists.
She had been easily fooled by two of them, possibly three.
She glared at herself in the mirror
Feeling undesirable, ugly and unlovable.
You are pathetic! She said to her reflection.
Her brown eyes did not believe her. They laughed.
God I hate myself! She thought.
Received a sliver of satisfaction after slamming a bottle into the mirror.
Watching it crack up into a spider web’s face.
I hate all three of them! She screamed.
But of course, she only hated one.
Categories:
knickknacks, depression,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I open my eyes to the lovely smile on mom's face
and the tenderness in her gaze;
but why is there more silver
in her hair and more lines on her skin?
The pretty pink and purple Sanrio knickknacks
tell me I am back in the bedroom of my youth.
I get a whiff of mom's perfumed Spanish bath soap,
bringing a sense of comfort,
like the mouthwatering aroma of simmering chicken stew
wafting in from the kitchen.
As I inhale the floral scent of my cloud-white pillows,
I feel I am mom's young daughter again.
Feeling drowsy, I close my eyes to listen
to the haunting notes from the radio,
its soft melody competes with nature’s
night orchestra outside, where dusk has settled.
The boisterous laughter and baritone-voiced
banter of my brothers echo in my sleep.
Startled, I wake up from the dream. The fever’s gone;
in body and spirit I'm a strong adult again.
20 September 2015
Categories:
knickknacks, brother, eve, family, home,
Form:
Free verse
Rushing to the car at six in the morning,
packing knickknacks and things we need.
With sleep in our eyes hearing the robins sing;
a prelude for the road ahead.
Packing knick knacks and things we need:
from gameboys to confusing road maps.
A prelude for the road ahead,
the little ones softly nod their heads.
From gameboys to confusing road maps,
Pokemon evolve, as does the scenery through the glass.
The little ones softly nod their heads,
faces silhouetted, driving through the narrow tunnels.
Pokemon evolve, as does the scenery through the glass.
With sleep in our eyes hearing the robins sing.
Faces silhouetted, driving through the narrow tunnels.
Rushing to the car at six in the morning.
Categories:
knickknacks, childhood, travel,
Form:
Pantoum
All things have fallen to the wayside
And I cannot bring myself to go beyond the front door
The coffee table is messy with unopened mail
And haphazard cigarette ash
Dusty knickknacks are silent and undemanding
Each with its own place on the shelf
The past is nonsense, the present is nonsense
This life makes no sense
Breathe in breathe out don't breathe
Death is the only sensation ... cessation....
Categories:
knickknacks, assonance, death,
Form:
Free verse
Home invaders
Climbed the fence;
Huffed,
Puffed,
And blew the windows in,
Suddenly, they're inside a mansion.
They came prepared
With large duffel bags.
They grabbed all they could -
A family heirloom,
Jewelry,
Knickknacks, etc.
Then one walks out to the balcony
And a caged parrot locks eyes
With the stranger,
Bows its head, thinking -
"Please, don't take me, too! I don't want to part with Mr. Tyson!"
"Matthew? It's time to go!" a voice calls out
.
"There's a parrot out here, Cam!"
"Nope, you heard Cam! You guys go now. Leave me be!"
thought the parrot.
Cam peeks out to the balcony.
"What do we need a bird for?" he asks.
Shouldn't we take it with us? Parrots talk, right? It could give us up." replies Matthew.
Cam thinks for a moment,
So does the parrot.
"Great, just great! I'm about to be stolen!"
"What about we kill it?" suggests Matthew.
Frantic thoughts: "Oh, hell no! You'll do no such thing, boy! Horrible idea! Cam? Help me?"
"No, we don't need the damn bird. Let's go, now!" Cam says, emphatically
"Whew! Thank God!" thought the parrot, breathing a sigh of relief.
The cat burglars made a clean getaway,
Or so they thought.
They made one fatal flaw.
They should've taken
Mr. Tyson's beautiful talking pet.
The parrot began spilling tea
Upon its owner's return -
"Matthew, we gotta go!"
"There's a parrot out here, Cam!"
"Matt, let's go, now!"
"Damn, I can't find my phone!"
"Back door! Back door! He's pulling in the driveway!"
Personification- Pets Talking Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
06/08/2022
Categories:
knickknacks, bird, home, humor, imagery,
Form:
Personification
Navigating nervously through our natural neighborhood, our native nest away from the noise and neon nightlights
No need for the numerous noxious normality's named nectars of necessity
Neurotic nightmares of numbers and names; knickknacks, nukes, and narrow-minded ways
Nauseating and never-ending
Noble is the nomad; nimble through the netting with no need for its negativity
A new narration away from normal to the nurturing arms of nature
Neutral and nocturnal, novel nuances for the nameless and the neglected seeking nirvana
Negate the noose nudged forward by our nation and nullify the negative, bare naked in numinous nascent
Categories:
knickknacks, beautiful, city, conflict, earth,
Form:
ABC
On my kitchen counter sits
A catch-all made of tin,
A place for scissors, pencils and
Whatever else fits in.
My room was being painted in
The color of my choice;
And finally, for furnishings,
My mom gave me a voice.
I chose the bedspreads and the lamp
And knickknacks picturesque;
The jaunty yellow pencil cup
Sat proudly on my desk.
That object's followed me for years
Wherever I’ve called home
And now I’m giving it its due,
Within this simple poem.
Categories:
knickknacks, home,
Form:
Rhyme
Silver candlesticks and other thingamabobs
Of questionable use in these modern times,
And riffraff scattered throughout in gobs
Most are reminiscent of long-ago pastimes
Of younger years spent happily gallivanting
Around the globe in search of new ventures
Now I spend entirely too much time, daunting,
Searching for my eyeglasses or my dentures
And trying to figure out how to dispose of
The knickknacks and what-nots I’ve collected
Not enough drawers I can into them shove,
On shelves they are dusty and much neglected.
I’m thinking that’s what my executors are for
So, I’ve designated a few people who will care
Who will make an inventory and open the door
For an estate sale, when I have gone over there
Time comes when my collections are scattered
To the four winds and have lost their meaning
Folks enjoyed them in my home, I was flattered,
But, now I am doing some necessary cleaning.
Written July 23, 2022
Categories:
knickknacks, how i feel, humor,
Form:
Quatrain
Frida and Diego’s house
Had walls of cobalt blue.
Today it’s a museum and
Their paintings are on view.
I didn’t go to Mexico
To visit their collection,
But at the Garden, got to see
A limited selection.
The cactus plants in ochre pots
Arranged in artful ways
Allowed me to imagine Frida
Living out her days.
Some paintings rounded out the show
And photographs as well,
To place the artists at the site
Where both did work and dwell.
The highlight of the whole display,
Which made me crave much more,
Was all the Frida tchotchkes*
In the Garden’s lovely store.
An orange pot and purple plant
Now grace my windowsill,
Reminding me of Frida –
Very un-run-of-the-mill.
*trinkets, knickknacks
(The New York Botanical Garden
currently has an exhibit about Frida Kahlo
and Diego Rivera’s house, Casa Azul.)
Categories:
knickknacks, art, garden,
Form:
Rhyme
A news reporter used the word,
And ended it with “keys,”
But I have always said it
With a schwa sound, if you please.
Derived from Yiddish, tchotchkes are
Small knickknacks you can buy,
Like trinkets bought as souvenirs.
(You’ll later wonder why.)
Some homes are filled, on shelves and sills
With tchotchkes overflowing.
The word’s pronunciation, though,
Not everyone is knowing.
Transliterations rarely do
Agree on sound or spelling,
So if it’s “chotchkas” or “chotchkeys”
Is your choice for the telling.
Categories:
knickknacks, words,
Form:
Rhyme
(Thy lovely lasses unwittingly
unstintingly unexpectedly
taught me selflessness)
Every Holiday time each year,
a rocketing increase asper
doling out Uriah Heap ping
largesse imposed upon each
citizen banker (coerced, forced,
induced to buy baubles,
bibelot, curios, et cetera striving
to outspend a competing
shopper, which faux grand
handedness, and crass exhibition
generating mega sales (as Tale
of Two Cities, or more)
earns management stripes viz
embracing the Christmas spirit
(via blithely deftly, frenziedly,
et cetera) per avidly boasting,
coarsely displaying, eagerly
flaunting, et cetera prices paid
for the latest curiosity, doodad,
gewgaws (whereby un
avoidable advertisements), flood
mass communication airways,
causeways, driveways, et cetera
to plug reduced priceline sans
gaud dee, knickknacks, gimcracks,
encompass companies blitzkrieg
for those, who disparage being
labeled Scrooge plunk down
every red cent, and empty
their pockets, purses, wallets
to snag the title of topnotch spender
no matter no need exists to snatch
every last kickshaw, novelty ornamental
tchotchkes, (which modus operandi,
(visited upon the populace, a tidal wave
vis a vis figurative manifestation,
laceration, inundation, whereby tenet,
maxim, credo, et cetera broadcast
to general public amply expending
fistfuls of dollars fulfilling
Great Expectations
(for family, friends, relatives)
buy giving liberally,
Categories:
knickknacks, appreciation, creation, dedication, encouraging,
Form:
Ballad
she never threw anything out
the driveway is filled
clothes hang on racks
hers on the left,
a few of his on the right
tables of her shoes
kitchenware, pots, pans
knickknacks, tchachka’s
souvenirs from long ago trips
some of the furniture
will go..there’s no need
for all of it now
the most valuable,
jewelry, some paintings
are in the garage
the money isn’t important
at this point
it doesn’t matter….
how can he put a price
on what’s been taken
his memories aren’t of
a particular dress or
pair of earrings she wore
he won’t look at a painting
or photograph of a trip
and think of her
he misses her smile,
the touch of her hand on his face
the look in her eyes,
how she curled up inside him
in bed at night, stealing his warmth
… when she spoke his name
Categories:
knickknacks, death, emotions, loss, love,
Form:
Free verse
"I never travel without my diary, one should always have something sensational to
read . . .” Oscar Wilde, 1891
April 12, 2011
It happened again on April 12th
My crystal dove fell off the shelf
The shelf of knickknacks in my mind
Of people and places, left behind
This one was Adam and all we could be
Lovers, partners, the possibilities
The alternate dream, if you would
Of another us in a parallel world
Where I’m not married, nor is he
And dreams of together morph into being
I pick this dove up, this Adam fantasy
And place it on the shelf, out of my reach
Susan Burch
*Won 8th place in "The Diary" contest
Categories:
knickknacks, lifeapril,
Form:
Free verse
In the midst of mess and dust
Of knickknacks and trinket boxes turned to rust,
sat a small, dirty, bag,
dog-earred and worn; the sides beginning to sag.
Among its contents of pictures and cards,
Reminders of love and life, before it was hard.
In a wrinkled old envelope, plain as could be
Not much to look at, hard to see,
was a sweet note written in a girlish hand,
from his bride-to-be before she wore his wedding band.
The words were simple and filled with promises of love and hope,
They were the beacon on which they relied to cope.
When the world would keep them apart,
Through these words they were heart to heart.
He smiled as he read her words written so long ago in a time that seems so far away
Sometimes they seem to have gotten lost from day to day.
Softly and gently he held that card sealed with a youthful kiss
When passion was high and life was bliss.
To a sailor and his bride-to-be
Life was nothing but blue seas.
They vowed to love in all kinds of weather
Believing they were meant to be together.
In that small card she poured out her heart
with her soulmate; exuberant for their life together to start.
Lovingly, he looked at his bride of so many years
Gently he held her,remembering all the laughter, love and tears.
Life has a way of waging war on love and getting in the in the way
Chipping and hacking and eroding with
mundanities and heart ache day by day.
Love sometimes gets lost in the shuffle
Passion falls by the wayside and egos scuffle
Sometimes a simple reminder is all that is needed
A simple gesture, kind words repeated.
Among the dust and mess of long forgotten trinkets in a musty, dusty alcove
In a messy, torn bag, long weathered and worn, they found love.
Categories:
knickknacks, life, memory,
Form:
Ballad
A lot of life I’ve lived; in all these years
some attitudes and thoughts of mine have changed.
Here’s one example: I’ve got fewer fears,
but one thing mainly I have re-arranged.
I’ve switched around the way I used to feel
about possessions. Now that I’ve grown old,
It’s so much easier for me to deal
with quitting seeing things like they were gold.
I realize the many things that I’ve
been spending money on mean so little.
Simple joys are the real gold; I’m alive!
The many things my kids would belittle -
my records, knickknacks, clothes and lovely rings.
Time with family is much more worthwhile.
Categories:
knickknacks, joy,
Form:
Sonnet