Tag Archives: poem about a junk drawer

Tiny Obsession: NaPoWriMo 2022, Day 12

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Tiny Obsession

I like things in miniature—
those things more likely to endure.
Tiny cars to put in pockets,
diamond rings and heart-shaped lockets,
fragile wee ceramic dolls
and buttons pulled off overalls,
game pieces and Sunday school pins—
things to fill up drawers and bins.

Bits of lace and fabric swatches,
antique keys and locks off boxes,
seashells and fossils in small sizes,
plastic Crackerjack surprises,
tiny well-formed souvenirs,
caps off foreign-labelled beers,
swizzle sticks and matchbook covers,
love letters from bygone lovers.

What do I do with all this stuff?
Collecting it is not enough.
Accumulation is a bore
if you don’t know what it is for!
The junk that’s stored in my garage
turns into riches in a collage,
where all of these assorted pieces
unite to form a visual thesis.

In jars and boxes, drawers and bowls,
reside future creative goals.
Pick a watch. Rip it apart
and reunite it into art.
Find a theme and work it out.
That act is what it’s all about.

A nasty rumor I must debunk
is that what I collect is junk.
These things from junk stores or from ditches
may be transformed into riches.
In life it’s not what you may start with.
It’s taking those things you don’t part with
and taking necessary measures
to transform them into treasures.

Anything imbued with heart
becomes, in time, a vital part
of what you make of what you may
come across from day to day.
In short, it’s what you’ve filled a life with
that ends up what you build a life with.

 

The NaPoWriMo prompt today is to write an homage to something small.

Junk Drawer

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This is the prompt:

  • First, find a song with which you are familiar – it could be a favorite song of yours, or one that just evokes memories of your past. Listen to the song and take notes as you do, without overthinking it or worrying about your notes making sense.
  • Next, rifle through the objects in your junk drawer – or wherever you keep loose odds and ends that don’t have a place otherwise. (Mine contains picture-hanging wire, stamps, rubber bands, and two unfinished wooden spoons I started whittling four years ago after taking a spoon-making class). On a separate page from your song-notes page, write about the objects in the drawer, for as long as you care to.
  • Now, bring your two pages of notes together and write a poem that weaves together your ideas and observations from both pages

    Click on the arrow on the album to hear the song.

For NaPoWriMo 2021, Day 10

Non-inherited Tendencies

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Non-inherited Tendencies

I am forty-three years old. Why is it that my mother still feels it is her purpose in life to educate me?

She stands in front of the junk drawer in my kitchen, “There is no excuse for anyone to have a drawer like this in their house,” she says. With one finger, she rifles through the drawer, moving a pair of pliers closer to fifty peso bills for the water vendor  that are piled to its left, sending loose screws rolling across the bottom of the drawer.

I reach around her to hand her the pair of scissors she seeks. Then, once again, I careen into the precipice of self-doubt. Surely, others less-perfect than my mother have drawers such as this one.

My qualms deteriorate as I readjust my thoughts to coincide with the actual world, but as I restate mentally and silently my oft-repeated mantra. “What the eyes don’t see doesn’t matter,” my mother, briskly and methodically, starts arranging the drawer. 

 

Word prompts for today are What the eyes don’t see doesn’t matter, deteriorate, educate and precipice.