Short Knickknacks Poems
Short Knickknacks Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Knickknacks by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Knickknacks by length and keyword.
A kibitzy klepto keeked like a kakapo at a kerfy knotholey kist that kept knickknacks made from kidskin and krimmer in it. His knockoff kiths were knackered of the kookie knucklehead's kleptomaniacism- kudos to them!
nannies
grannies
watchin’
children
mouth stuffed?
cheeks puffed?
bouncy
ball-ee
legos
clown nose
toy cars
gold stars
knickknacks
thumbtacks
foil from
chew gum
day care
au pair
sitters'
jitters
Behind the books
And old photos
And baubles precious,
Knickknacks sentimental;
Behind the masks
Is hidden a heart
Layered in dust
Does it still beat?
Is there life?
The door opens
In comes a mighty rushing wind
(Or a sweet gentle breeze)
Books, masks tossed aside
Dust blown away
Shelf is clear
“CLEAR!”
Lub-dub, lub-dub
Love did, Love did
All things have fallen to the wayside
And I cannot bring myself to go beyond the front door
The coffee table is messy with unopened mail
And haphazard cigarette ash
Dusty knickknacks are silent and undemanding
Each with its own place on the shelf
The past is nonsense, the present is nonsense
This life makes no sense
Breathe in breathe out don't breathe
Death is the only sensation ... cessation...
All things have fallen to the wayside
And I cannot bring myself to go beyond the front door
The coffee table is messy with unopened mail
And haphazard cigarette ash
Dusty knickknacks are silent and undemanding
Each with its own place on the shelf
The past is nonsense, the present is nonsense
This life makes no sense
Breathe in breathe out don't breathe
Death is the only sensation ... cessation....
Salvaged trinkets from less mindful times,
doodads and trifles - mainly yours.
Electrical dinosaurs,
wrapped in wires and plugs – mine.
Not much furniture: particle board,
cheap impulsive clutter.
Browsers turn over knickknacks,
hope for an overlooked value;
we have none.
We have this jetsam, and this, and this
and that.
Treasures in-between bric-a-brac
and thingamajigs -
almost priceless, almost worthless.
On my kitchen counter sits
A catch-all made of tin,
A place for scissors, pencils and
Whatever else fits in.
My room was being painted in
The color of my choice;
And finally, for furnishings,
My mom gave me a voice.
I chose the bedspreads and the lamp
And knickknacks picturesque;
The jaunty yellow pencil cup
Sat proudly on my desk.
That object's followed me for years
Wherever I’ve called home
And now I’m giving it its due,
Within this simple poem.