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Wednesday, 05 May 2010

The Runaway Collector

By Estelle Davidson

My overcrowded walls and halls
need to be displaced by space
to counterweigh blatant display,
to counterpoise the visual noise,
to countervail a junky jail
of indiscrete accretions.

I've way too much
of clothes and such,
have stuff enough to fill
my house twice or thrice.

Every cupboard, shelf
and closet has deposits
of things and brings
despair when I look there.

The overflow does overthrow
peace of mind. I must wind
down, decrease not increase,
restrain my pack rat instincts.

But guiltily I now
must pause because,
though I thought I tamed
the fire, that desire to acquire,

My wordy introspection
has bred collection
of poetic imperfection,
overripe with tripe
and overprime with rhyme.
Bad habits reproduce like rabbits.

[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Instructions for submitting are here.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 02:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post


Estelle, I loved your poem especially at the end when you brought us so eloquently to your punchline.

This is hilarious. I plan to share it with my writing groups and my collector friends. Thanks for my morning chuckle.

Thanks Estelle. Funny, clever, and very "meta;" the poem is what it talks about. Very enjoyable.

Love it - the concept and composition. The idea has been running around in my head all day. Thanks.

Your vocab and rhyme surprises are as much fun as your topic, one I can relate to.

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