mementoes in a tiny museum
souvenirs of small moments
shiny stones fluted seashells
retained bits and baubles
quiet with personal histories
habits collected in childhood
displayed in their sentiments
carried by years into manhood
emotional artifacts telling brief
tales of diminutive journeys
now at prominent rest beneath
glass in the parlor available
handy to curious eyes seeking
insight from biograph markers
these temporal timeworn and
much caressed objects whose
conscious display reveals clues
to the heart of a taciturn man
The telling clues from he doth deduce the taciturn man – a touch of Conan Doyle in the thought process. Superb
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cheers, mike
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Nice poem – hate to say it but that vitrine looks empty 🙂
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ha ha – all the better to imagine its contents
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Afraid the modern man’s vitrine is a storage locker where he keeps his toys . . .
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fortunately, I’m not a modern man
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Oh yes, my own heart is in this box. Beautiful poem!!
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glad you enjoyed it
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I think everyone needs a little vitrine to keep they’re memories in.
Never hurts to have little things for little reminders =)
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as a lad, I used old cigar boxes
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Reblogged this on OUR POETRY CORNER.
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thank you for sharing my poem with your readers
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Most Welcome!!
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A miniature display of a large heart and deep memories. I would imagine enjoying the tales that could be recounted from such precious mementoes.
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tangible memories
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sweet
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thanks kindly, David
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Oh my. This poem hits me with both pleasure and impressiveness. The sonic craftsmanship of the lines and breaks knocks me out, keeps me guessing, and makes me want more. The tender semantics of personal story is integrated with the poetic technique infallibly. Wow. Love it.
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thank you for your thoughtful comments
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Reblogged this on Poesy plus Polemics.
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