My grandmother passed on her untarnished eight bangles to my mother,
My mother passed on the same exquisite bangles to me,
I asked my daughter when she got married “do you want these bangles?”
She said “These are pretty, but too tiny for me - I won’t be able to wear them.”
The jeweller had a suggestion-
After all, they are all precious metals! Twenty-four carat!
He turned those unadulterated gold into an elegant necklace.
My heart sank parting with those ornate pieces,
which connected me with the women,
who paved my way so that
I did not have to live the life they did.
Now those bangles shine only on a picture of me in a wedding dress!
I took your ring to a gemologist today,
Shiny with spilt crystal rainbows,
Weathered by life’s hardships.
He took one look at it
And then at me,
Incredulous, he said ‘this is of no value’.
And though it held no value for him,
I told him that it was precious to me.
It was ‘just’ a glass ring underlaid with coloured foil,
A mesmerising prism that I touched with my childhood fingers.
You were a big precious stone,
With no precious stone to call your own.
Sand and alloy forged together and worn on
a hand that bathed me,
Hand that fed me,
Hand that held me,
Hand that nurtured me.
Your presence is in this beautiful,
simple ring.
An eternal symbol of your piety,
simplicity, courage and love.
And now it circles my finger,
As a reminder of what life is really about.
It is my connection with you,
Across space and time.
I like writing poetry,
I like making jewellery to.
I try to make my designs quite bold,
I try to use silver or gold.
I cut and I file,
And all of the while,
I make sure the gold dust is collected in one big pile.
When I have collected a lot,
I heat it, so it is extremely hot.
Then when it's ready to pour,
I am able to make more,
Of the most beautiful jewellery,
Better than anything that you ever saw.
ice-pellets dazzling
on tall pines, jewellery
money can not buy
December 29, 2022
Ice, snow, or Frost Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
syllables (5-7-5) checked by HMS.com
She is my precious jewel,
But I will never wear her as jewellery,
Because I know all I can do is admire her beauty.
Truth is though, like window shopping for jewellery,
I simply cannot afford her affection, as I stand there longingly staring.
For my heart feels our bond as it is, in itself, is perfection.
She’ll always be like my collection of jewellery,
All the times we had together like rare gems aplenty.
As the years go by, as the jewels lose their shine,
I realize more and more how she can never be mine.
Sometimes it seems only I can remember
What we may have once meant to each other,
Much like the jewellery hidden away in my dresser.
For me she is a jewel of a friend,
Because I know she’ll be my friend until the very end,
But I know I will never be as precious to her, as she is precious to me.
Poetry is art, art is poetry,
An amalgam of rare jewellery,
Words joined together in a unique way,
Expressing clearly what you want to say,
Add some similes, metaphors and rhymes,
A dash of poetic devices' chimes,
Conjuring up images with sweet words,
Talking of flowers, animals and birds,
Where else can you find such deep artistry?
Poetry is art, art is poetry.
09/20/18
She has a collection, an unusual collection,
Of four thousand and forty two,
Colourful, shapely, dangly rings,
From green to gold to blue,
That she wears from ears, her nose, her lips,
The ones that are on show,
And she wears a heap in other places,
But there I will not go,
Her arms both glitter, her legs glisten,
Her neck’s a twinkle on display,
She’s a shiny beautiful colourful star,
When she walks throughout the day,
From hoops, to drops, to barbell hugs,
She loves wearing tiny rocks,
But no one can actually see her now,
She’s become a walking jewellery box.
all colors and shapes
plastic floats in a harbor
necklaces for gulls
I maybe hang anywhere
I perhaps put everywhere
I would be stick in different walls
I could be diamond, gold and silver
I like to be jade and pearls
I need to be polished
I wanted cares as you do dear
I longed for love when am keep in the shop
I will be missing the eyes of people seeing me
I am left alone the shop when holiday is on
I am indeed jewellery waiting for you to see
Neldy Jolo
WM-KL - 6:58 PM – 8312
A precious pearl
In our family garden
A very rare diamond
In the pillar of our of our heritage
Pride of its nation
When the sun rise on the horizon
Beauty without a season
This jewellery light up in a song
Eternal jewellery of my life
The reason for my inclination
Bring me to my country
Bring me to the nature
Where I can smell the perfume of the cinnamon
And drink a cup citronelle tea
Jewellery of my life
Jewellery of my desire
A nation multi-colour
With ambiance of the rainbow
In the sky
Bring me to the rare diamond
Where the world doesn't really know
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.