Junkyard Poems - Poems about Junkyard

Junkyard Dog

I'm just a junkyard dog.
Old scars tell my story.
I'm left water and scraps.
Alone in the dark I sleep
and dream of a better life
and love with es
I smell beyond fences.
Love is just out of reach.

My Favorite Junkyard

My favorite junkyard is in Chariton, Iowa.
A rusty old tow truck at the top of the hill
Painted to look exactly like Mater in the Cartoon.

When I approach the junkyard, I do with anticipation
And there he is. Sitting on the hill with his big eyed 
cartoon smile, same goofy teeth.

It makes the rest of the junkyard

My Favorite Junkyard

My Favorite Junkyard was owned by Fred G. Sanford
The G stood for Good Times
He was full of surprise with humorous delight
As a kid I would visit his junkyard every night
If he wasn’t filling me with laughter, he was filling me with cheer
Oh, how I wish that Fred G was still here
He ran the junkyard with

Junkyard Backpack

I throw it out then bring it back
A somewhat hoarder, I have that knack
I keep in mind the things I love
Then store them back within my hub
A sound of music a touch of scent
Allows nostalgia a place to vent
A memory made or thought perhaps lost
A junkyard backpack on my forward path

When on the surface I

Grammie's Basement

Grammie’s Basement

A quiet place of rest covered with the dust of decades
Where wicker chairs of discarded summer days
Sit with tangled strings of Christmas lights on their laps
Alongside ornaments of glass so thin a whisper shatters shining globes;
Bowler hats and boxes of stray buttons among the useless collar stays
Seek reunion with blouses out of fashion and

My Favorite Junkyard

MY FAVORITE JUNKYARD	
                                 
         Twin Junkyards my favorite decaying drastic.
     

Midas Touched Junkyard

The mobile mind indomitable
the rider of life waves
with curled crests of fractured moonbeam
and dark agony troughs of drowned stars
spread breaking on the shore of the past.

The crushed sands carve seaward footprints
the weathering antique contours of decay
time arrow points to topography beyond the shore
away from the eroded wasteland abandoned
where landfill devours the unusurped hopes.

The weed-webbed terrain

Junkyard Garden

through lean years
in this thing called life
i’ve tended to my garden
erected walls with what i could
made a shelter called it mine

i filled each corner
in convoluted ways
with memories and fantasies
along the way weeds got the best of me

my garden looks more like a junkyard
a roadmap of regrets discarded 
scruffy trails of abandoned rejects
milestone remnants of betrayals

sometimes

He Was Homeless Junkyard

Stained yellow teeth, decades of mistreatments;
Tattered worn hair, mustered stare...
Worn torn shoes just vagabond, dementia rusted mind;
Seems he's been here before, open spaces relics;

My yard is filled with junk; What's up--
Rusted rattled metal, such a waste dried up sores, rusted;
Out of date ragged clothes, ON THE FENCE
Decades of mistreatments, homeless surrounded by substance;

His environment anywhere,

The Junkyard of My Mind

The Junkyard of My Mind?

the junkyard of my mind is
full of images
places that I used to belong
now they flash before me
like lost scenes in time
how can something lovely
feel so wrong

the junkyard called my heart
is full of feelings
stuff I used to know
somewhere in time
that rises up and tries to choke me
demanding from my spirit
to be heard

My Junkyard

Rusty old sins burden my soul
Sending me broken parts, 
Pieces of my most sinful thoughts
Lies, betrayals, grudges and hatred

So many moments of livid rage
Gripping the words of anger that
Passed my lips and colored another’s
Heart with wrath so furious it slashes

There are desperations that grip me
Confine my heart with despair and fear
Anxiety that nurses my old

My Favorite Junkyard Contest

Years ago with a 74 ford
Loaded with trash
Three boys in front raring to go
A trip the four of us loved

Back in the day people would put aside the good
One year we found a new model plane
A row of dimes and a box filled with diamonds
Estimated at 20,000

It seems as the story goes
Grandma died and they

My Favorite Junkyard

A collaboration with Kim van Breda - honored Kim

I've tossed some dreams
       into corners
where they sit rusting -
dissected spare thoughts
for a restomod old body
smartly attired with
polished imperfections

swum life's streams
through currents
undulating promises
the color of sandstone
desert miles, turreted
rhododendrons, watered
slips off the extreme

thrown mortified moments
over the fence where
sophistication hid ,then
disguised what still

Junkyard Cat

Junkyard cat 
escaping every human
climbing over Plymouths and Dodges,
Hiding in rusty jalopies 
that used to carry Grandpas
to potential grandma’s for courting.

Junkyard cat
slinking in and out
Hoping an old woman
will take pity and leave food
She rarely does
Thinking that might
Curb your mousing

Junkyard Moon

Bygone youth carelessly spent
Damaged goods years of torment
Guiltless heart cruelly scarred
Abandoned in junkyard charred

Spent days wasted nights crying
Torment focused on dying
Scarred and marred deep to the bone
Charred wishes on a moonstone



Submitted on March 9, 2019 to contest JUEJU-QUIJUE WITH A TWIST sponsored by CHARLES MESSINA  -  RANKED 1ST

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