Best Shoebox Poems
This old house is a mystery,
it is filled with lots of history.
It needs to be cleaned out,
now what are we going to talk about?
Let's go to the big closet,
mom made this her big bank deposit.
Look a very old dusty shoebox,
wow!!! is it Ralph our pet blue fox?
I know
Love and adoration
I remember their scent ......so well
Stored in a shoebox on top of my aged wardrobe
Wrapped in reminiscent bright pink tissue
Origami of the mind
Occasionally I climb
Reach and tug
At the scarlet silk ribbon that surrounds it
Tip toeing through diligent daisies
Open the storage to all I secretly treasure
And
Smell the memorable scent of our anticipation
Regard the look of adoration
Feel the touch of passion stroke the thighs of my wishful mind
Hear the sighs of whimsical, after thoughts
And I am back in your arms as your most prized possession
At the moment just after
The Oh so precious moment before
Dusty Box of Memories Poetry Contest
Constance La France
"We'll wheel where our wills take us and never tirer loving the ones that love us."
Quote by author
I kept his birthday card in a shoebox. Inside the shoebox was a pair of Gucci men's black lace-up shoes, size 12, costing a fortune. The sadness here is that he never received his birthday present. He passed away two days before his 50th birthday. Inside his card, I wrote, "Babe if you are the last piece of chocolate in the box, I want to save that piece forever." That was 17 years ago. Today when I opened the shoebox a wave of emotions and tears hit me, and I wanted to hit back. I kept thinking, harboring these emotions all these years, "It wasn't fair. Why me God why me ... why did you leave me a grieving widow?" When I looked at his shoes I was devastated and dutifully gave them a shine as my hands trembled. He would have jumped for joy in those shoes but I'll never know. I then looked at the card, orange with kids holding balloons, and playing in a yard. Not only his favorite color. But he would have been touched because we could never have kids. But I'll never know. As I gathered myself at the altar of my life, assembling the items back into the shoebox I couldn't help but hear his voice beckoning me to move on ... I looked up, my voice chocked with tears, "Babe if you are the last piece of chocolate in the box, I want to save that piece forever."
Hmm, a photograph
Two quarters and a dime
A half written note
A set of tags
A few keys and credit cards
Driver’s license and I.D.
Surprising what fits
In an ole shoebox
A few clothes thrown together
Some well pressed
An old pair of sneakers
And well polished shoes
A mind full of memories
A room full of emptiness
No doubt the room
Will be filled again
The box handed over
And the memories lived
I’d just rather not
Be holding these tags
Through the silenced laughter
Echoes the days we knew
How with hair on fire
How high we flew
Larger than life
Now within my hands
In what I hold
So much more is told
Than a few items in a box
For what lies within
Is a life well lived
Cut much too short
For a greater cause
So surprising it is
What fits in an ole shoebox
I’d just rather not
Be holding these tags
And damn my friend
I so want you back
It was a shoebox of poems written over the years
Of joyous moments, heart aches and tears
The fond memories of her life, of being a mother and a wife.
Poems of her child bearing years, and all the joys that she shared.
A poem of the moment that she had dread
Of the day that she wed.
With butterflies in her stomach and tears in her eyes
And being strong so she would not cry.
Poems of when her children reached school age
And each year was a different phase.
Poems of family times, vacation times
And even of the nursery rhymes.
Waiting till the time was right, and to have
Quality time with her husband at night.
Her entire life was in a shoebox of poetry
Left to read by you and me.
I removed the lid off the shoebox, then I started to cry
because it was just like me. Empty inside.
Electronic keys and hacking tools
Gloves mask and absolutely no rules
Except of course to not get caught
To stay the course not get lost
Strip it and zip it or rip it off
nature photos cut from magazine
glued on sides mounting a childhood's dream
rocks and popsicle sticks-made bungalow
painted brightly around like rainbow
mom displayed it on the shelf
confidence and trust within myself
years of hard work and inspiration
artwork in shoebox is now my home
The shoebox lay in antic muddle,
gathered the dust of antiquity.
When time came to clear the clutter
I held awhile the frail cardboard carton,
found inside emptiness with memory specks,
heard the echo of faded footsteps,
felt the pulse of the distant life
I had since walked away from.
She kept her secrets of love tucked away
In a shoebox, a forbidden affair
Protected deep in her innermost heart.
Their warm, playful, and inmost affection
Had blossomed in their youth, under a full
Moon that hung large in a sky scattered with
Millions of radiant magical stars.
But she had been promised to another.
I found a shoebox stored away
under my young son’s bed one day.
It hadn’t been there two evenings ago.
What could it be? I needed to know,
for in its lid - small holes he had made.
Its contents I felt prompted to invade.
At two lidless eyes I felt myself gape.
A tiny lizard scrambled to escape.
The old shoebox still lies under his bed.
It brings a volley of thoughts to his head.
Within it lie the shoes he wore that day,
When, lost his leg falling off a steep way.
A missing leg can never defeat him
He will rise again from a state grim
In the stygian sky of hopeless dark,
A streak of a light glows like an arc.
THE TOUCH OF YOUR HAND
THE TASTE OF YOUR KISS
THE SMELL OF YOUR HAIR
THE PERFUME IN YOUR TOUCH
THE BOUNCE IN YOUR WALK
THE COLOR IN YOUR EYES
THE SHOES THAT YOU WEAR
WAIT A MINUTE!
THAT'S HOW EVERYBODY SAYS IT
HOW BOUT...
THE SMILE IN YOUR WALK
THE TASTE IN YOUR STEP
THE COLOR IN YOUR WAVE
THE BRIGHTNESS IN YOUR LIPS
THE WIND IN YOUR TOUCH
THE SPARK IN YOUR SILENCE
THE LONGING IN YOUR MOMENT
THE WARMTH IN YOUR WHISPER
THE COOLNESS IN YOU
THE WEIGHTLESSNESS IN YOUR STRIDE
A GALAXY IN THE WAY YOU SAY GOODBY
AND THE SMELL OF INCENSE WHEN YOU CRY...
A shoebox tucked beneath my bed.
For my eyes only, the things unsaid.
I keep them close, yet out of sight,
Too tender to be seen in board daylight.
What might have been lies folded within.
Pressed flat to fit the coffin they’re in.
Old hopes and regrets long since dead,
Lie whispering laments under the bed.
Victoria D
'What's With The Box'
05/04/2026
I open a cardboard of memories
dust breathes from sealed corners
each shoe a version of me
names I outgrew still whisper
time folded like worn paper
I am inventory of selves
the box remembers what I forgot
but it is empty when I look inside