FROGS
trigger
remembrance
cute collectibles
remind me how to stay
one leap ahead of the snake.
“FROG spells Fully Rely on God”
The beach is a trove of treasures that become collectibles
More than a soft toy,
she kept these Puffies
for years; she kept
them free and safe.
I left, right..left..right,
out of her everyday -
her sis marched right
out of her life, but
her Puffies so proud
on a shelf; its shelf life,
who knows, but they’ve spent
nearly half a century with her.
Wallace Berry Cream Puffs
stayed in the palm
of her sister’s hand,
never looking forward
or back, never going far.
This soft toy enjoyed
the chatter, laughter, love
of her new owner.
Reminders of a faraway home,
a forever after,
the sweet kiss of a 5 year old.
She held her Puffies tight; tighter
the memories of so long ago.
It all matters - not the toy,
yes the toy, yes the girl.
The small basset hounds,
coffee brown floppy ears,
cream bodies (like wool),
and ample pink snouts.
The sailor in me knew
these two would
be well-cared for. This child
held her responsibility
in high-regard.
There’d be other collectibles,
but sis never neglects
the treasures of the past.
It lay
halfway down the hall,
once the spare bedroom styled
where out of state family once sprawled,
for a while.
Grown now,
two states away
with families of their own
all too busy for a visit these days
back home.
My niece once remarked
that the room is pervaded
by remnants of Christmas collectibles parked
in dusted positions faded
for my heart's memorialized condition sparked.
Herein displayed
the many gifts they gave
so many Santa and Angel figurines
Baby Jesus on parade
in happier masquerades once seen.
As the season approaches
with every possibility of time recalled
the past encroaches
in the hopes and dreams, we still applaud
the sanctuary of the Christmas Room.
scattered in the sand
colored stones mixed in with shells
memories in bag
fine collectibles
nature’s munificent gifts ~
infinite treasure
POND
my frog
mementos
cute collectibles
their pond is my bedroom
where they are safer from snakes
"the pond, a frog sanctuary”
April 6, 2023
Sponsor Joseph May
Contest Name Pyramids 3
the "snakes" being grandchildren who like to play
with my over 200 collection of frogs.
My son collected baseball cards;
My brothers did, as well.
My Beatles card collection
Was the female parallel.
But there’s an opportunity
For everyone to buy –
Although it’s hard to understand
A decent reason why –
Some trading cards that feature Trump
In poses quite bizarre –
An astronaut, a cowboy
And the weirdest one so far –
A superhero with a body
So unlike Trump’s own,
It would be quite ridiculous,
But somehow it is known
That people buy them!
Shelling out, for every NFT,
Enough to question what’s become
Of each one’s sanity.
How low can one man really sink
To hawk himself this way?
It’s mortifying to confront
Such ego on display.
The stars are lighting up dusk’s aftermath
With a million Christmases’ twinkling light
Tiny dots to be connected in a serigraph
Covering the earth with a dome of white
To show us the Milky Way’s chalky path.
A full moon rises bursting with reflection
To illuminate the scene on a muslin scrim
Together nuanced in a perfect confection
Horizon to horizon, spilling over the rim
Meriting telescopic exploratory inspection.
Mysteries hide in these kaleidoscopic universes
Only dimly glimpsed by earth’s passersby
Golden coins in a cosmos of satin purses
Collectibles in the Creator’s successful try
Light of the heavens far beyond disburses.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written November 16, 2022
Submitted to "Beauty of Night" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Sotto Poet
Shenanigans and poppycock -
the wild wood with unrest.
Will amazon deliver the chest
of acorns and walnuts before Winter sets?
On their “I” phones, those with bushy tails
don’t want to work for nibbles. Kips,
after a long, long, long day of texting,
waiting, shopping. Others hoard or steal
those treasure troves from every tree.
Collectibles, particularly nasty -
why would a little squirrel want a Barbie,
when a grownup can buy out and store
each box, in perfect shape, for a decade?
“Play with your phone, little kitten.”
Shenanigans and poppycock,
finger-licking goodness of ‘rents,
loving the kits with abominable gifts.
11/15/2022
Contest: THE CRAP SHOOT #2
Sponsor: John Lawless
Lynne was the old folks home rebel
Angry that she had been sent here
She loved her hoarder house
She liked her collectibles; they were her friends.
The state had taken it all away
But they had not found her red glasses
Lynne was wearing them the day they threw her out.
Today she ran away from the old folks’ home
She did not need to associate with these old timers
I am not old or senile, she said to a butterfly.
The butterfly did not stay to hear, and that irritated her.
I like your shirt, a young lady said.
Lynne looked up. The lady had a pretty smile.
I used to be pretty, she told her.
You are beautiful, the young lady said.
Lynne followed her a few feet into the park.
She sat at a table and ate the egg she had saved from breakfast.
The birds kept her company. She knew one was a robin.
She had forgotten how lovely being outside felt.
You could go outside in the home, a voice said inside her mind.
She had been invited to the garden club many times.
She had always declined. Today she had an epiphany.
I like the outside! She thought. She headed back to the home
To join the garden club.
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
Collectibles
I stand in the half light and cast my eyes
On so many facets of life.
Standing, hanging, sitting in disarray,
Defined by price and market trends.
Things once loved, or cherished,
Admired, coveted, or just well used.
Everyday things that have seen or felt
Or been a party to a family life.
They wait in silence for a new beginning.
How many eyes have seen a crystal light,
Or hands have used a well worn tool?
Whose lips have touched a gold rimmed cup
In happiness, in peace, or war.
How far back in time do their memories stretch,
What tales can each impart?
A sampler spells out thoughts or prayers,
Stitched with care from love or threat.
Pewter measures, bent and worn,
Poured out hope or watered down despair.
A silver pointer shows a holy text,
Dispelling fear of death to come.
Mirrors framed in ornate styles
Reflect a thousand faces,
Young and old,
That now lay buried, long forgotten.
A new life beckons these who wait
Their chance to once again
Belong.
Our Day
A dining room table
A living room chair
A bed with a side table sitting right there
A picture you took
The drapes in a pair
With many collectibles compiled to cheer
A dish to be washed
A kettle to heed
A clock on a mantle
Striking three
Children are out playing with glee
A tilt of a pillow
A table laid Lace
Where we’ll sit and say grace
Cups, spoons and forks all put away
Storing the mop, pail and broom
The hum of the dishwasher filling the room
Upstairs, kids kissed and tucked into bed
Good night, Good night sleepyhead
Warm fuzzy slippers
Put under bed
Pillows fluffed and tucked under head
Another day done and put away
This is the ending of our day.
Recently I was in the hospital
with a life threatening illness
I was glad to get out of there
So I went to my computer last night
and sent an article out
to the collectibles journal I write for
Then I entered an Israeli poetry contest
Back "on track" as they say
Poetry won't pay the bills
yet it is very important
to that "nation within a nation"
the readers and writers of verse
and for all of you out there who
are collecting something
I send you my fondest wishes as well
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