Boxes Poems - Poems about Boxes

Toxic notions, mixing up potions Bubble and boil, cauldrons toil. The words evade me, They could've made me - by now - but somehow, I forget what the words were I forgot I could speak, I became so weak, inside I was dying, I couldn't stop from crying, I wanted to run and hide. Perfection is just a reflection, An image...

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We get approximately three boxes a day in deliveries My husband is the ultimate order-machine He takes more stuff back than most people order I am sure UPS knows his name now These boxes stack up on couches, the back of a bookshelf, Beds, chairs, tables, and other not-for-boxes-places When I get tired of them, I burn them in a huge...

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It's hard to believe it has been nine years since my brother delivered each box. They all seemed to hold a special key, mysteries and memories to unlock.   My Dad had lived a mostly happy life, and I remember him with love. He's hunting, fishing, and playing sports somewhere if there's a heaven up above. Twas the first time I'd seen Dad's picture as...

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Irene boxed it all up and took it outside. There were five thousand one hundred and twenty-five boxes. If you sort one box every day, you will have this sorted in no time. Irene was a mathematician. She divided it out. If she sorted one box a day It would take her fourteen years to sort it all out. She went back...

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While there is still time close your eyes and listen... Even the silent have something to say. While there is still time go to the ceiling, root out the forgotten boxes full of hidden memories and halt... dust does remember. What is important is that there is still time the birds of your neighborhood to rest from cutting air because that piece of air is common. There is...

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trash pickup occurred. will have to break up boxes throw them all away...

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inaction speaks louder than words ~ in fact it shouts to heaven above i don’t seek indoctrination ~ this dude knows what it’s like to feel love stay in your own comments box ~ i have no agenda nor need a shove when putting digits inside someone else’s bubble ~ wear a latex glove ...

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Memories in boxes By lady Arabella As I sit here and go through all the boxes I’ve made Each one holds a memory which time cannot fade From old school reports that showed all I could be To lessons learnt at times when red flags I couldn’t see From cards of love and poems of...

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Little boxes By Michelle Morris 09/08/2023 Little boxes, little boxes Little boxes everywhere Tick the forms for every single thing That humans have to bear Little boxes, little boxes Little boxes for everyone Even before we're born Little boxes start stacking up on us There are name ones And gender ones There are date ones And family ones Wherever you go In the world You carry boxes Everywhere There are home...

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Cubism - words in cubes Put words in cubes. Ideas aligned at once, inside the box, attuned. Intensive interplay, makes sense. ...

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A Theology of Boxes By Mark Stucky Praise God for “boxes” that form infrastructure for living! Praise God for customs, conventions, and traditions that give meaning, order, and comfort to us. And praise God for creativity to take...

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She went searching for peace at the grocery store. Those shelves were all empty, her people at war. There were loaves of loss and heartbreak over by the bread. "We have a sale on hatred," the store manager said. She found boxes of empathy mixed in with the teas and told the young cashier, "I'll take two boxes please." She went...

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Can you believe it, indicted again, By a bunch of pure zealots, callous grey men, Political hacks given the task, To take down the Don and in the limelight then bask. Find any cause, invent a good ruse, Just make it stick, all tricks good to use. But boxes of stuff, how low can they get, Papers with socks stacked in the...

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The boxes By Michelle Morris 27/03/2023 The boxes Are all that is left Of us Our lives Our love It's incredible how We come together As people As couples As families With boxes Of things Of accumulated stuff Of memories Of love And when we Leave As we inevitably must Whether through death Or betrayal of trust The boxes Are what Remain Of us Our stuff Our memories Our love Our hearts In boxes Apart © Michelle Morris, 2023...

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Bare are these walls... I now stand before, that were once adorned with picture frames. The brown boxes are loaded, and these frames of which I speak wait within. The door frame, the frame of the home, the borders that surround my garden, and the walkways I meander in the mornings, frame my memories, of a time once not bounded. And time... the time...

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