Dusty Poems | Examples

DUSTY OLD BOX OF MEMORIES

DUSTY OLD BOX OF MEMORIES
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
The attic is a time capsule when time stops and nostalgia lives.  Inside, the very air hangs heavy, thick with a musty scent and the weight of upspoken stories.  Amongst the jumbled collection of forgotten treasures, a dusty old box of memories remains untouched, draped in a shroud of white dust like winter’s first snowfall.  Although reluctant to open the attic door and venture forth, I wonder if perhaps the box holds more value than I’m willing to admit.  

memories like wisps of gray smoke
dance upon the wind's breath
fleeting moments caught
frozen frames of love and pain
moments lived, now lost in time
untold stories sleep
yet their essence remains
haunting whispers in my mind
a bittersweet refrain

Dusty shelf

Dusty shelf
still I look up
	to where they sit
on a shelf high
	collecting dust

once it seems
	so long ago
I carried them
	everywhere with me

and I did show them
	and I was so proud
and in time I learned
	no one did care

so there they sit
	dreams and ideals
from when I was young
	so long ago

still I love them
	and them I keep
but now tucked away
	collecting dust

Dusty Roads Take Me Out

Dusty roads take me out
   To the furthest reaches -
To places not thought of
   Way off highway stretches -

To the rocky vales where
   A lonely thrasher calls
And scarcely people hear
   His excitable songs -

To where a streamlet flows -
   Whatever it be named -
Where a line of hoodoos
   See the course slowly change -

To the canyon shadows
   I find laudable
To marvel at the rows
   Of piñon for awhile -

To where the earth stands still
   And the sky rejoices
And every glance I steal
   Is bright and faultless.

Inside My Dusty Box of Memories

“What we have once enjoyed we can never lose; all that we have loved deeply, becomes a part of us.” — Helen Keller

              On opening
        my dusty box of memories,
      I found a photo of my darling dog
        whose name was Ollyver -
  a tiny white Eskimo I had adopted
  when he was one year old; I think he’d not been loved.
    He cowered around men, and it
  was only I he clung to with adoration.

              Dear Ollyver
        waited each night till I came home.
      He’d jump into my arms. His love for me
        was unconditional.
  Sadly, I had to give him up ten years later.
  I was promised he would not be killed. My heart ached
    and I spilled many tears hearing
    his mournful howl as I made myself walk away.

Dusty Box of Memories

tucked in the attic’s yawning mouth
a box breathes dust and echoes time
its edges worn, its ribbon frayed
a tomb for moments left behind

inside, the scent of paper ghosts
of letters inked with trembling hands
photographs curled like autumn leaves
pressed in the weight of lost demands

a locket, dull with tarnished love
a ticket stub from laughter past
a wilted rose, its petals cracked
all whispering we couldn’t last

the lid creaks shut, a sigh of dusk
some things are best left locked away
but even dust, in golden light
remembers where the shadows lay

Dusty Box Of Memories Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France

- Dusty Box of Memories -

    My dusty box of memories
    can be compared to
            Aladdins wonderful lamp
    Yellow brass with a shiny
    and elegant appearance
    Everyone has a genie
    that resides in the subconscious

    When the lid is opened
    it smells of jasmine and rose petals
    feminine and unique
    Feeds my heart with
                    the scent she loved
   

    It did not belong to a royal person
    but my dear mother
    She was a woman who spent time
    finding the right outfit
    with different bijouterie
    A wide range of jewelry, bracelets,
    earrings, necklaces and rings

    As an aged photo album -
                I let the jewelry
    run through my fingers as a rosary
    Dear memories flow

Dusty Box of Memories

“Within a room, all wrapped in a comforter of cobwebs and dust, a vacuum full of memories.”  Quote by _Poet

Her grandmother's attic she walks into,
Full of cobwebs, dust, and boxes in her view.
Excited of the treasures that have been stored.
Her imagination wanders as she went toward.
Thrilling look, to unexpected findings.
Valuables amid dusty boxes bindings.

Forgotten belongings, waiting to be discovered.
Nostalgic memories what laid inside to be recovered.

She sits in front of a cardboard box with layers of dust.
The word, pictures, written on the side, open she must.
A photo of an old 1939 coupe, grandma
In grandpas embrace, looking at each other in awe.
Another of gramps holding my dad's small hands
As he takes his first steps, watching or his fans.

A spirit of memories that have been lost for years.
Old family photos and love letters brought tears.

Dusty Box of Memory

I never open that dusty box of memory,
it's just another box of clutter
left stored amongst other boxes of clutter
in an attic with the door shut tight.

There is never a time quite right
to fling open the mind's dark shutter,
let dust motes flit and flutter,
put yesterday pains into the day's new treasury

Memories

"Great memories are the best kind to have but some memories bring a waterfall of tears." By Poet

Memories are sleeping in an old dusty box.
Even the ones I had forgotten about.
Many years are awakening before me.
Old love letters I now read and cry.
Roses faded from a Valentine's Day dance.
I feel each memory as I pull it out.
Examining what has been tucked away.
Seeing and feeling what once had been.

Dusty Box of Memories

"Memory is a treasure, once lost may never again be found" by poet

As I clean my closet for the last time,
each dress, each coat, I handle tenderly
they remind of a life that once was mine
when choosing tomatoes came easily
and, taking a walk, I did leisurely

At the back of the closet, there's a box
I had forgotten, marked: "Save, used seldom"
It's a box of laughter and silly socks,
a half-full bottle of Satin Skin Balm,
a crayoned heart saying, "I love you mom"

Brushing away tears, I look more instead
Midst the pom-poms, I find a dolly's shoe
"My dollys don't talk to me now," she said
Just like that, childhood disappeared, I knew
I am saddened by how quickly time flew

I will begin my new life tomorrow
On this box of memories, I'll depend
It has my heart and I'll often borrow
my children's left-over moments and spend
days with their sweet faces, as I pretend

Dusty Shelf

Dusty Shelf
Dedicated to my Sponsor

In this world are many souls,
Some chase peace and some chase gold.
Some are hurting, some seem fine,
Some break slowly over time.

But we would never get like those,
We frowned upon the life they chose.
Of course we knew they needed help,
Yet left them on a dusty shelf.
We walked past them, ignored their cries,
No one mourned as many died.
There was no hope for these men,
But God would bring it back again.

Those who judged would lose their mind,
For after human, follows kind.
Now they were sat on the shelf,
Far too proud to ask for help.
Yet some of them would soon be well,
They came to terms with how they fell.
And though they could not change the past,
With Gods help, they may just last.
Only those who gave up self,
Made it off that dusty shelf.

Some ran off, but you looked back,
You helped me see the things I lack.
With your patience and your grace,
I have God now, I have faith.
But most of all, to save myself,
I must help others off that shelf.

- KK

Puppet

Lifeless puppet
Broken strings
Collecting dust
And other things

Dusty Roads

On dusty roads, through swirling leaves
Traces of joy silence the trees,
Who blaze with shades of bronze and gold
Whispers of light peaking through twigs

Dancing, swaying to sunlight’s song,
On dusty roads, through swirling leaves
Bold shadows recall twilight’s call,
While blessings of light calm the soul.

Dejected moans from earth’s secrets,
Soar through the skies as autumn sighs
On dusty roads, through swirling leaves
Risking wild dreams for gentling peace

Still embers burn the clouds away
Ashes of summer, haunting souls
Who grieve for the sun’s soft mists
On dusty roads, through swirling leaves

Dusty Road

   Dusty road covers your shoes
     scratchy throat, raspy your blues

   Keep walking, keep going, it’s all you can do
     phone’s dried up too, ain’t no more good news…

A Dusty Trail Called Hate

A Dusty Trail Called Hate
Miracle Man
4/13/2024

Hate is a dusty trail,
where seldom raindrops fall.
What causes man’s hate to exist,
oft times he can’t recall.

Does hate exist for someone’s look,
or shading of their skin.
Perhaps an unforgotten activity,
birthed way back when.

God didn’t intend for all to show,
a sameness in every way.
So man should show His love,
to those contrary to him each day.

When man can hate a sin,
but show love for the sinner.
God sees value and transforms,
him into being a winner.

Matthew 25:40 KJV 
*40. And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

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