milk white porcelain
dresden stamp on the bottom
valuable purchase
found at garage sale
appreciated more now
two dollars well spent
at a garage sale
tables of pre-owned items...
life stories and tales
in a motley collection
sold for just a buck or two
blue dresden china
pitcher from a garage sale
mom figured it out
Up in the mornin’ and out the door.
Goin’ garage salin’ some more.
Shop, shop, shop, shop, never stop.
She’ll have me out there until we drop.
So many things we have collected,
that were important to us back when.
Just no way we could live without these,
treasured gifts from family or friend.
Now stuffed in heaps of ragged boxes,
upon folding tables strewn about.
Seems that our real life and youthful hopes,
have not always followed the same route.
Through the years so many households,
we have packed into a moving truck.
In our search to find that perfect life,
these are the things that have always stuck.
They say memories don’t have a price,
but these little stickers say not true.
The small writing tells us that ours will,
only cost you a dollar or two.
So come in and search this treasure friend,
find that perfect fit for your own space.
You can make it part of your life's plan,
build your own memories to embrace.
Because all the things I cherish most,
isn’t stuff collected from my past.
You’re the best thing life has given me,
family and friends will always last.
she never threw anything out
the driveway is filled
clothes hang on racks
hers on the left,
a few of his on the right
tables of her shoes
kitchenware, pots, pans
knickknacks, tchachka’s
souvenirs from long ago trips
some of the furniture
will go..there’s no need
for all of it now
the most valuable,
jewelry, some paintings
are in the garage
the money isn’t important
at this point
it doesn’t matter….
how can he put a price
on what’s been taken
his memories aren’t of
a particular dress or
pair of earrings she wore
he won’t look at a painting
or photograph of a trip
and think of her
he misses her smile,
the touch of her hand on his face
the look in her eyes,
how she curled up inside him
in bed at night, stealing his warmth
… when she spoke his name
Would you take a dollar?
No.
Okay. Thanks.
Would you take a fifty-cent piece?
No.
Okay. Thanks.
Would you take a quarter?
No.
Okay. Thanks.
The haggler has no idea how to haggle really, the
vendor thinks, not realizing she gets more things for
a dollar, a fifty cent piece and a quarter than anyone
else in the world.
The buyer leaves with her dollar intact.
There is another garage sale two houses down, right?
Would you take a dollar?
No.
Okay. Thanks.
Would you take a fifty-cent piece?
No.
Okay. Thanks.
Would you take a quarter?
Yes. Sure.
Thank you very much! I love it!
I was never a girly-girl.
I am not a sorting, throwing away, cleaning girl.
I am definitely not a wash-the-dishes or wash-the-clothes girl.
I am more of a fill-up-your-spaces with junk girl.
Buckets of junk, baskets of junk, junk to
Put junk in, junk to sit on top of other junk.
I love thrift stores, garage sales, and flea markets.
Antique malls in town have my credit card number
On file in case I lose it again.
Being prissy is not for me.
Neither is being a girl; I’m a wild woman.
Definitely a SEASONED woman.
Confined in the heart and mind
Of a 9-year-old boy.
The boy side of me laughs
Silently at the prissy people who
Sort and purge and clean.
What sillies!
Wasting their time on something that keeps need re-doing,re-doing,re-doing.
My children can sort my junk after I’m gone. Or the grandchildren can.
garage sale
placed junk from the past self
upon the driveway for
the passers by to come and
rummage through
riffling amongst the used goods
that are no longer wanted by the new self
spring cleaning of the garage of the subconscious
have begun
Old worn things
sprawled in heaps of disarray
Lamps and Chippendale chairs,
faded boudoir cabinets,
forgotten wedding gift kitchen wares
Clothes fashioned in yesteryears,
teacups full of evaporated tears
Nostalgic tears of joy,
tears of sadness
Items bearing times of hardship,
some marked with easy living felt tips
Garage sale ...
barter away the past
Selling off old memories,
wistful times that didn't last
Old well-kept things
laid out in an orderly way
Candle holders and embroidered closet rugs,
polished grandfather clock,
treasured anniversary velvet gloves
Keepsakes kept safe as years went by,
mementos of permanent smiles
Reminiscent smiles of childhood gladness,
melancholy smiles of adult sadness
Items carrying no more emotional weight,
none to appreciate the vagaries of fate
Garage sale ...
buy a piece of someone else's parted past
Purchase a new possession,
perchance in a different attic it won't be cast
Up at dawn...
Jackets on...
8am is coming fast...
I must hurry...can't be last.
I checked the ad's...I checked it twice...
I made my list...it took half the night.
I've planned my route...
I have no doubt...it will bring me victory!
I cleaned the car...made lot's of room,
for all the treasures I'll load in soon.
Here we are...the first big sale...
only $1.00 for an inflatable whale.
I don't really need it...that is true...
but at that price I should get 2.
Oh look 3 stacks of mismatched dishes.
I can cross that off my garage sale wishes.
I must look quick...and not delay...
for soon I must be on my way.
As bigger sales call out my name...
my husband thinks I've gone insane.
P.R.Deremer
At a Garage Sale
Wish my golf energy was tough enough
To keep me from ending up in the rough
Each time I am heading for the green
And caught in some trap in between.
Great golf game is what I had in mind,
But when I ended up so far behind
Thought came to me I was about to croak
Each time that I had taken another stroke.
Not only that things looked terribly dismal
All of my game ended up being abysmal
Told everyone about my high handicap
Said it all sounded like a total mishap.
After last stroke some people started to say
Golf game again I should never, ever play
So I ended up back home and without fail
Gave my golf things away at a garage sale.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
There’s quite a sale in my garage,
A poet’s plethoran montage
Of metaphors and similes
And verses guaranteed to please.
A nest of nouns, a vat of verbs;
Some quotes quite perfect for your blurbs.
A carton filled with stale clichés,
Which budding writers can rephrase.
I’ve baskets filled with parts of speech
Left from the days I used to teach.
So many sentences to choose,
Ambitious wordsmiths cannot lose.
So come on down – check out my stuff;
Describing it’s not good enough.
A poet’s sale is most inviting –
It may spark a love of writing!
Ilene Bauer
September 6, 2012
(this was accidentally deleted from my poems list, so i wanted to reenter it)
I’m having a garage sale
Though I don’t have a garage.
Come check out all my offerings –
You’ll see a strange montage.
I have similes and metaphors
So old that they’re clichés.
There are sentences and verses
Budding writers can rephrase.
From a stack of nouns quite towering
Are so many you can choose;
Mix and match with all my adjectives –
You simply cannot lose.
There’s a vat of verbs just waiting,
Some with adverbs still attached;
And a box of prepositions,
With its lock no longer latched.
There might be a spare conjunction
Hiding underneath the rhymes;
As for interjections – Ha!
They’re rare as Mercury-head dimes.
Yet if you pay me a visit,
You might find the words you need;
I’ve been cleaning up my clutter
And there’s good stuff, guaranteed.
So come pick through my possessions
‘Cause I’m lightening my load.
Then feel free to write a sonnet
Or a limerick or ode.
For garage sales held by poets
Are, to me, the most inviting,
Since your purchases may point you
To the pathway paved with writing.
Ilene Bauer
September 6, 2012
(this was accidentally deleted from my poems list, so i wanted to reenter it)
I am getting rid of HATE
Releasing my ANGER
Controlling my TEMPER
Relaxing my MIND
Regaining my HAPPINESS
Reliving PAIN and DESPAIR
Sharing my THOUGHTS
COMMUNICATING
Allowing you to WALK in my shoes
FEEL my HEIRLOOMS
ENDURE my LIFE
MAKING PEACE WITH MY SELF
ACCEPTING me FLAWS IN ALL
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