Long Oddments Poems

Written: September 06, 2023
I dream poetry                             ...

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I was in a bookshop the other week 
(I’m a bit of a second-hand bookshop freak.)
In the crafts and hobbies section I spied
an interesting Home-Made Presents Guide.
Now, I’m not tight-fisted but where’s the sense
in spending...

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Musty boxes
Resting belligerently in forgotten corners
Gathering dust
Waiting to be dissected
Eviscerated
Purged of their jumbled bits and bobs
The oddments of a family of lives
Muscled arms heft them in a tanned sweaty embrace
A bumping scuffling journey ensues
The same...

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He records the works of his life, the ephemera
he once scrawled onto the tissue thin,
thinking them indelible blueprints.
Most were fables told to a dying legend,
Pastimes, that were chariot wheels
for his little red wagon.

He is an...

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It begins in innocence,
 
 The world greets,

 Wraps its arms tight,
 
 Welcomes!

 Honey sticky sweet childhood drips, lick.

 Dreams bloom, flourish,

 Wild hope rampant, vision sharp.

 Freed from responsibilities, restraints,

 Naivety a luxury.

...

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Deep blood red orange cloud’s,
ethereal dream float,
Satin wind carrier of luscious mint,
green hymnody’s deft transport,
Spring hues random loitering,
between gray peeled branches,
Chirpy echo squeak,
 from red-wing blackbird,
A fragile wafer tin threshold,
Golden stream gurgle,
under marsh reeds, 
Evanescent...

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High alpine meadows are dusted with wildflowers,
And the faraway horizon is outlined with craggy mountain peaks,
Half-asleep lights blink through the sun-painted mist,
The sunrays dip at varying angles and intensities,
creating mixed moods and mysteries ~
It feels...

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Her mind accumulates oddments and curios,
contrivances with strange linkages,
attachments that bolt unlikely parts together;
the mechanics of metaphysics.

Pieces of something she is sculpting or
assembling, or just waiting for,
a glimpse of a word-picture
too intricate to be entirely...

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I find that if I cut a lens-size whole
in a cardboard box then place that box
over my head the stars
arrange themselves
into, not the named constellations,
but ordinary oddments once lost then found
and eventually junked.

I find that...

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He accumulates oddments and curios,
contrivances with strange gears,
attachments that bolt unlikely parts together.

Pieces of something he is structuring or
assembling, a mechanism
too intricate to be entirely recalled.

He discovers these devises
on the leeched rim of vision.
Part of...

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there are fragments lingering
of my past
   bits and dregs
        the wreckage
the remains of what was once
          the...

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Pens, and pen knives,
minor gadgets and gizmos,
chopsticks
old zippo lighters,
motheaten books
that crumble an old-fashioned wisdom
into the mush of a quaint twaddle,
words to muddle over
on a day locked into a raincloud.

He collected all sorts -
mostly useless things,
mostly...

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