Inside my closet, I reminisce.
That dress made by my hand under my mother's guidance,
this suit carefully and skillfully built to last
and last and last.
Some unworn (those most fantastic).
Graduations, funerals and a wedding.
Souvenirs
of hims and hers and thises and thats
of losses and prizes,
triumphs and
once or twice I have stood there to cry.
It's burgeoning now.
Clothes on the floor and stuffed in every cranny.
Over-burdened shelves collapse under their onerous load.
I keep bringing them in by the load,
clothes without loads yet,
madly trying to refresh myself
from the outside in.
Thank you so much for reading my work. I appreciate you all very much.
Beautiful words, beautiful Art.
Thanks for sharing:)
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Thank you!
I love this so much - and it's sooo timely and relevant as our 25-yr-old refuses to part with anything in her clost. Clothes she outgrew in grade school, middle school - with school logos - pass them on to someone who could use them. Nope. She cannot let go of things.
Your poetry ever amazes me - pithy and appropriate, memorable and keep-able. And your poetry doesn't consume space in my crowded closets. #Love it!
When words truly encompass relatability ♡
The idea of renewal. Interesting how the selves crumble by the weight of the loads of clothes. Is that a metaphor similar to the ideas of unloading your mind of things that might drag its evolution progress?
I also see it can be how the feelings attached to the pieces can bring us to our knees, overwhelmed by its force.
OMG I just used the word crumble in my piece of the renga! It's not done yet, but I was very pleased when I though of the word crumble.
And yes the closet and its contents is a metaphor for past relationships and all that baggage. Nice interpretation.
That's part of the bonds of poetry. Ha, ha, ha. Connections everywhere!
That's what got to me. Now, I get the idea of the new clothes even when the poem just talks about older ones.