It is a graveyard for lost toys
abandoned by their girls and boys—
objects of fun once ordinary,
spurned by children who are wary
of things on which to soar and slide,
of toys that draw a kid outside.

Once solely meant for entertainment,
they’re now fenced in for their containment
away from children set aside,
away from things to climb or ride
with other kids bare-faced, unmasked.
Now all are differently tasked.

Now housebound children stare at screens
or sit leafing through magazines.
Monkey bars, it is official,
turned into things more beneficial:
fences, barricades or bars
marking parking spots for cars.

But teeter-totters, slides and swings—
a community of cast-off things—
lie here abandoned in a place
that’s never seen a child’s face.
It is a junkyard overgrown
of pleasures that now go unknown.

The raucous crew for which they’re cast
has become a memory of the past.
Hordes of kids on jungle gyms
pursuing their communal whims
are things that they barely remember.
Leaf piles jumped on in September

neatly raked up in their heaps
are safe from children’s messy leaps.
Every child kept in their room,
the world outside would seal their doom.
So, junkyards filled with these diversions
are museums for today’s aversions.

One by one, the kids grow older
never getting one bit bolder.
Contained inside their separate lives,
Single cells replace their hives.
While hidden from this lonely crew
are all the things we used to do.

Remember when the school bell rang?

Kit and caboodle, the whole gang
would rush to see who got the swings.
What nostalgia their memory brings.
I remember them so well,
but especially the carousel.

Prompts for today are carousel, kit, ordinary, solely and community.



10 thoughts on “Junkyard

    1. lifelessons Post author

      Hopefully, they soon will. I am constructing a little park in my spare lot below my house and after I wrote this poem, it suddenly occurred to me that I must put either a pair of huge swings or a porch swing for two in it–perhaps facing the small pond I want to construct to attract birds and foxes and perhaps a ringtailed cat!

      Liked by 1 person

  1. janebasilblog

    My lofty living room window looks out onto a path that leads to a primary school. Every Autumn I watch the children walk past, ignoring the tempting heaps of fallen leaves, and I wonder – how can they resist the joy of kicking through them? How come it doesn’t seem even to occur to them? It almost breaks my heart.


    1. lifelessons Post author

      Poor me. I have never lived in a place that produced huge piles of leaves so I was denied that pleasure of childhood. Instead, we made huge nests out of the lawnclippings emptied out of the big collectorer and pretended to be birds. Not the same thing and we were covered with chigger bites afterwards, but how we loved to do this!!! Cold spaghetti served as worms for my older sister to feed me, her chick.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. janebasilblog

        Ha! My brothers would probably have tried to feed me real worms – although it’s not fair to say that, since two out of three of them were always good to me, and I’ve since become very close to the one who wasn’t.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.