He collected false teeth
Vintage wooden legs
Ancient wooden clogs
Toed with metal segs.
He hoarded his collections
Hidden out of sight
Would peruse them with joy
In the middle of the night.
He moved on to hairpieces
And didn’t give a fig
About the methods he used
To acquire a new wig.
When he met Mary Jones
New desires entered His life
Which became full of joy when
She agreed to become his wife
She was an avid collector of
Effects and trivia of Devon
And so in truth they were
A match made in heaven.
With their various collections
Filling their house to the rafter
They went and moved to Thailand
Where they lived happily ever after.
the bill collectors are on the phone
I know it is them
It says scam likely
I refuse to answer it
what would I do?
tell them the truth?
No one wants to hear it
some people say send a dollar a month
I would be paying debt back until I am 145 years old
I stare at the phone
feeling stressed out
as it continues to ring
yard full of nut shells
nest of overstocked nuts
roll from big oak tree
"squirrels- crusaders of nuts"
They promised that the debt would fade away
So students took the path they thought was right,
To study and find our scholastic way,
To keep our country's future burning bright.
Americans with good minds, sharp and free,
Where cowboys read of heroes in their books,
Cowgirls build homes for all to see,
Beyond the vanity of shallow looks.
But college dreams have turned to heavy lead,
All races and ethnicities in deep.
The interest grows while workers lose their bread.
The promises the lenders didn't keep.
From Texas plains to Floridian sun,
The SAVE plan starts the freedom we should've won.
No one is perfect.
We go Up & we come Down.
If we send a little something Down though, (while we're up) and place it somewhere safe, we can use these tools to get back up again next time.
We are Tool Collectors.
Patience meets a quietude of Rosewood,
a quill twixt fingers, held in the left hand.
The trophy collector shares his boyhood,
as a quill fairs right assign no men's land.
A quill twixt fingers, held in the left hand.
A hallway clock grows in the midday sun,
as a quill fairs right assign no men's land.
Two men stand, no one out, son of a gun.
A hallway clock grows in the midday sun,
The trophy collector shares his boyhood.
Two men stand, no one out, son of a gun.
Patience meets a quietude of Rosewood.
"The Collectors"
a kiss
spreads its alms
warmth on cold lips
Love comes to collect
the eyes tell a story
the messengers
opened
an untold mystery
passing
the plate
the collection
the black swan awaits
veiled proverbs watching
3 fates
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
vcb-ljb
mlb, klb, llb
Military gear ~
Table to table veterans
Search out memories.
For James H. Beachboard
1928-2011
USMC 1947-1951
One of the Chosin Few
Battle of the Chosin Reservoir, North Korea, 1950
britannica.com/event/Battle-of-the-Chosin-Reservoir
~Comment Collectors~
Just forge ahead when things are
so dark!
Number of comments, do not a good poet
make into a lyrical lark.
Many comment just to be top on the Community
Board for heavens sake.
Thinking applause from big numbers must make
me important, big time! What a fake!
Read the comments, some as are empty as shells.
Some full of speciicity, I count these close to my
heart as well.
Some come by to correct you in front of others.
Please...... pass me by and go bother another.
Just compose good poetry as best as you can.
Reach new heights, forget looking for comments,
You came here to pen your best, for your fellowman!
~IF NOT NOW, WHEN~
11-30-2020
3pm PST
The giant gray ones plod through black heat and dust.
To honor the bones of loved ones.
Picking them up one by one
With tender trunks and tusks.
Something ancient dictates. The plodders must move on.
So, this chain of struggle and respect quietly moves along.
All of the watering holes are drying up or completely gone.
They must move further away from the bones of memory.
They must find that vein of silver amidst the parched blackness.
To drink heartily- to play in -to bathe in-to pray in.
We are all collectors;
storing images and sounds
as museums their acquisitions,
and conductors, their array
of scintillating voices….
Some we obtain for profit
and some to simply enjoy--
a lovely face with charming
grace--a lyrical smile
with eyes that beguile--
the roaring wind
stripping trees and
flattening fields—amazing
how many worlds a heart can
hold--or vanquish in an instant
of rage.
Wife, children, lovers,
debt collectors they are.
They collect without receipts,
spend without budgeting.
Bill collecting creditors
can be just like predators.
People who collect marbles also
collect like terms. These people
may collect unemployment in
Florida as well.
Trailing starboard they collect flotsam
stored in their pockets, as they
converse and philosophize with
living plastic flamingos.
People who collect English dining
ware also collect dust. Their collective
unconscious has forgotten paradise.
They have all left Eden to watch the
antique roadshow in Minneapolis.
People who collect Swiss watches
also collect minutes and seconds.
Their angels crawl like oysters in perpetual
motion collecting seed pearls of prayer.
nathan martin 2009
The cares of the world, are weighing me down.
To the point, that I wanted my thoughts; to drown.
Bills owed, finding their way to the mail box.
I want to pay them, but; I have too many roadblocks.
Collectors harassing day in and day out on the telephone.
Even on the "do not call" list they still won't leave you alone.
I try and develop a plan to suppress the harassment.
That didn't last very long, or even bring any appeasement.
The greedsome collectors send a pile, that is a waste of trees.
Just to collect their "grub" and jacked up hideous fees!
Then the greedsome collectors called me at work!
I called them back mad and was about to go berserk!
Then I received a whopping medical bill.
I felt so sick with disgust, I think I feel "ill".
In the mail was a pink envelope and what was inside?
An insurance bill that read "if not paid" then services denied.
I come home from my job feeling somber and "spent".
I opened up my check, of course; the government took their "cent".
They say when it rains, it pours.
Life’s tedious doldrums but, a different day; and more downpour!
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