Unpacking Poems - Poems about Unpacking

at the burnt-out end of night under a naked flickering electric light i worked upon leaving all the junk in my overstuffed mind behind i guess i must have been spaced-out that overhead light on its thin cord began swinging back and forth while i listened to burnt-out thoughts of a sudden i understood that they had never been my thoughts all that existed was a listener when the dawn light entered that light...

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it hits you like a freight train, but softer, more like the silence after it’s passed. the bottles on the table— they don’t speak to you anymore, they’re just empty. the letters from her are still in the drawer but the words don’t mean what they used to. the clock ticks louder when you’re alone, a cruel metronome mocking the time you can’t get back. you think about what it was to hold something...

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Pack his suitcase, say goodbye. Tears don't even reach my eye "Come back safely. Do take care." Then he's gone, and I'm left there Give a smile, and don't complain What's the use? Just bear the pain Hours of empty, voiceless time! Countless trips should be a crime. Time to clean, for he'll be back. All I've left is paltry snack. Home a while then off again It's his job to save from sin Pack his suitcase, then...

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“The presence of a long-term, conscious goal has helped me maintain stability through the ubiquitous changes of over half a century.” quote by Mary Craig Ubiquitous is a fixed measure of dirty dishes, meals and laundry; working moms miss out on their leisure. Days and nights seem set on chronic pause. Boredom, loneliness, and arthritis barricade the lives of...

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Of the reality of God, they were convinced. In fact, He was their first line of defense. Principle #1: In the name of God, Amen. They were undoubtedly good and decent people. Men, women, children; some of them were pilgrims. Principle #2: by the grace of God. They were not seeking a new king nor a new government. They were in search...

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I try unpacking her baggage Why does she have to be so mean You would think she was royalty Sitting in her chair like a Queen I pick up all her dishes The woman has not a care It seems that perspiration will destroy her perfect hair When it comes to making love Me oh my how my hands shake That woman is uncommon She points...

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New place Boxes and bags Bags and boxes Shrinking space I find the familiar I find the forgotten Each item opening The gate to Memory Lane Some steps are precious But it’s not always a sunny street There are potholes and puddles, Also shadows and alleys I open a door, See a covered hole in the floor Is there treasure there? Or a jumbled, shattered mess? I step back and breathe, Lock...

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As much as I don’t like to pack, You’d think that after coming back I’d simply do things in reverse, But emptying is almost worse. The dirty stuff goes in the wash But since I overpack, well, gosh! I have to sort and put away The unworns for another day. They’re wrinkled, though, so should I wait To iron at a later date Or hang...

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