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Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Closet Poem
Write about the contents of somebody's closet... It could be literal or figurative. Fibber Magee's closet or coming out of the closet. Skeletons in the closet. Well, you get the idea.
There were dirty books in mama’s closet we knew it was true because she told us not to touch way up on the top shelf where children couldn’t reach unless of course we used a kitchen chair.
We read them all to find the “dirty” parts we learned about General Ike who became president, The Last Stand and The Battle of Little Bighorn, John Rolfe and Pocohantas.
We’ll never forget A Tree Grows In Brooklyn still a favorite today - yeah I have a copy of my own. We read and read and talked about the books “Did you find the dirty parts?” we’d ask each other
To our disappointment none of us ever did. Over the summer little did we realize as we read we learned a lot about America’s history, geography, and the great leaders of our country.
We scrutinized each page in search of the “dirty” parts we never did find them but mama was sneaky because our education continued all because we thought there were dirty books in mama’s closet.
I know I left a comment for you on fb pertaining to this but I still love the way this is put together. Talking about the idea that there is something forbidden in the closet and as a child you sought to find it, but only found a different sort of education.
I know I left a comment for you on fb pertaining to this but I still love the way this is put together. Talking about the idea that there is something forbidden in the closet and as a child you sought to find it, but only found a different sort of education.
I searched those books and searched those books!!! There were kissing scenes. Woooo hooooo!!!! I loved the way you put it to poetry though. It's great stuff!!!
My bedroom is clean (Just don’t open the closet.) That’s exactly the thing that my mother did do. I pick up all my stuff! In the closet I toss it.
My mom calls my mess a big hullabaloo. I’m not sure what that means except I have to clean out my closet. The mess is too big, it just grew.
There are two or three toys, or maybe nineteen, or eleven hundred, I’ll just have to look. So I open the door, and three piles start to lean.
Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein, stacks of old books. There are lions and tigers and bears, oh my! They would certainly tumble if anything shook.
And there’s Candyland, Cootie, old games stored up high where I can’t even reach if I stand on my toes. There are too many things, I just can’t even try.
On the floor lay some piles of my dirty old clothes. Since they need to be washed, I decide to start there. I toss them downstairs and then realize I know
what to do. Two or three socks and one pair of blue pants, that uncomfortable shirt with the cuffs are the only clothes left, and not one thing I wear.
So I move all the clothes to my drawers. That’s enough. Now my closet’s the storeroom for all of my stuff.
This reminds of a cleaner version of "Sarah Cynthia Silvia Stout Would Not Take the Garbage out", closet version. Excellent write, and very nostalgic. I think all of us as children used our closets as a storage locker.
I had a low shelf and a kids chair in my closet and I could hide in there and write or draw. But it go so full of stuff I could hardly get in there. This made me think of that memory. Good poem!
Y'know Mar, I had totally forgotten about my own closet sanctuary. For a short time I was in a bedroom by myself that had a long narrow closet. All my pitifully few clothes fit at the back so I put a pillow and blanket in there and used to go there to read. I think a space like that would make me feel claustrophobic these days.
First of all I want to volunteer to do the prompt for the poem after Mar does hers. I didn't know we had to volunteer. Actually, I thought we would do it in some sort of order. But, this will work. I am next. OK?
He came out of the closet at 24 He was my first true love and I couldn't tell He only kissed me once after his prom He didn't even know himself that he was gay
He was my first true love and I couldn't tell Bernie came to see me every day and I didn't know He didn't even know himself that he was gay We swapped stamps, I taught him chess
Bernie came to see me every day and I didn't know He rode his bike like a gallant horse We swapped stamps, I taught him chess He told me funny stories and I laughed
He rode his bike like a gallant horse I always wondered why he never got fresh He told me funny stories and I laughed Once he said I love you but I don't know why
I always wondered why he never got fresh At his prom he told me I was pretty but we talked about math Once he said I love you but I don't know why He went through his teen years very confused
At his prom he told me I was pretty but we talked about math He only kissed me once after his prom He went through his teen years very confused He came out of the closet at 24.
I love the way you tell the story - your compassion shows in the way you focus on his own confusion. And Bonnie is right - the pantoum style really works well for this one.
Amazing style which brings this piece so much grace and class. It's also kind of heartbreaking at the same time. "Once he said I love you but I don't know why" has to be my favorite line here. Fantastic write!
My closet is stuffed because I live in a small apartment and there is almost nowhere to put anything away, except this rather small closet which I share with my beloved, who has a shoe collection that is larger than mine, believe it or not!
Besides my shoes and his, my clothing and his, there are my hats, which can't go into the coat closet because we have to keep the toilet paper on the top shelf and the coat closet is quite small and has very little room for anything but our coats-- we have too many.
On the other hand, in this apartment I do have two closets, while in my last apartment I had only one which I shared with my beloved and we had to fit everything into it, which was not easy so we put hooks on the back of the front door to the living room and hung our coats on them.
Is there ever enough closet space? Is it possible to have so few things that you need very little space for them? I do not think I can imagine having only a few things and maybe more space than I need to put them, especially when my beloved enjoys collecting the various and sundry things like shoes, that he loves. By Tasha Halpert
Oh, Tasha My closet is jammed and I'm the only one in it....did I say that right???? LOL Fun poem. Lots of insight to you and your beloved...I loved it!!!!
I can definitely relate! Lived in a much smaller apartment a few years back and had no where to put ANYTHING and I had that closet all to myself! You definitely capture the struggle with amazing imagery.
we have to long closets ... one in each of our bedrooms. my husband'sis so crammed I have a hard time hanging up his clothes, while mine which is slightly smaller than his has space left for more. funny how closets become important.. i can't use the linen closet for linens because he has it stuffed with his mouthwashes, liquid soaps, and all sorts of stuff. but then i grew up sharing one small closet with my sisters... yeah this poem hit home with me.
Getting rid of stuff is what I am trying to do but it's difficult to figure which stuff. I feel like I have to try harder after feeling the claustrophobic closets in your poem!
He walked alone in shadows In mystery and gloom Beneath the bridge- Is where he made his bed, And we were curious About this man that no one knew
But we never stopped To ask of him his stories Because we were made somehow aware, That those were tales he'd never voice. So our questions went unanswered By the man that no one knew
Yet still we passed him day by day As he begged us for our change, And though he piqued our intellect, He never sparked a change In human empathy. This man that no one knew
He carried all his sorrows Like the shame he could not hide. Buried deep somewhere Within the cluttered closets of his mind. And we wondered but never stopped to help The man that no one knew
"He walked alone in shadows..."I love that line...I love the whole poem but the first line just drew me in like a precious ruby in a thrift shop. "He carried all his sorrows Like the shame he could not hide..." wow words put together very well...Lost man and lost feelings. Great poem!
This captures the unknown beingness of those hapless ones we meet and examines our reactions.. I tend to wonder what people's stories are. Never stop to ask though. A very thoughtful poem.
Found space, as opposed to a found poem. I love the concept. We just moved into a new studio space that has upstairs storage. It was too dirty for me to even want to try going up there, but my son Ian when up and cleaned and it's turning into usable space.
Yes, what a weird feeling it must be to see all that empty space above you and never to have known it was there before. I would never be able to leave it empty...lol
OMG no! Am in the the getting rid of phase of life, rather than the fill it up phase. In the poem I think I want to change "emptiness" to "spaciousness" in the penultimate line. Sounds more positive.
HA HA, me too, he manages to fill up whatever space I open up!!!!!! Oh Well, he's a precious soul and I can live with his little habits. He does after all live nicely with mine.
Well I'm the hoarder in my house (which is a good thing because I live alone and if it weren't me....well, it would be really scary!)
Closet Poem
It is the dawning of the Age of Decluttering. Not just down-sizing babyboomers but people of all ages are exhorted: Stop letting clutter hold you back! Streamline your life! Get rid of what no longer serves you! Keep only what brings you true joy!
I’m a pack rat. A lazy pack rat. Such calls to action terrify me. I am a quivering lazy pack rat surrounded by stuff. All my stuff. So much stuff I cannot always find the stuff I need when I want it.
I could go through my stuff – my closets, my dresser drawers, the cellar, the attic, bookcases – sort things out, save only what I really need. I could do that.
If I make space in my closets I will have room for more stuff, room for skeletons and secrets, room for what I do not want. Once again I decide live in the open, surrounded by all my stuff.
Dirty Books in Mama’s Closet
ReplyDeleteThere were dirty books in mama’s closet
we knew it was true because she told us not to touch
way up on the top shelf where children couldn’t reach
unless of course we used a kitchen chair.
We read them all to find the “dirty” parts
we learned about General Ike who became president,
The Last Stand and The Battle of Little Bighorn,
John Rolfe and Pocohantas.
We’ll never forget A Tree Grows In Brooklyn
still a favorite today - yeah I have a copy of my own.
We read and read and talked about the books
“Did you find the dirty parts?” we’d ask each other
To our disappointment none of us ever did.
Over the summer little did we realize as we read
we learned a lot about America’s history,
geography, and the great leaders of our country.
We scrutinized each page in search of the “dirty” parts
we never did find them but mama was sneaky because
our education continued all because we thought
there were dirty books in mama’s closet.
I read all of those too. I remember staying up all night to read "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn."
DeleteI know I left a comment for you on fb pertaining to this but I still love the way this is put together. Talking about the idea that there is something forbidden in the closet and as a child you sought to find it, but only found a different sort of education.
DeleteI know I left a comment for you on fb pertaining to this but I still love the way this is put together. Talking about the idea that there is something forbidden in the closet and as a child you sought to find it, but only found a different sort of education.
DeleteOMG THAT IS SO FUNNY! Tricky clever Momma!!! Love it.
DeleteI searched those books and searched those books!!! There were kissing scenes. Woooo hooooo!!!! I loved the way you put it to poetry though. It's great stuff!!!
ReplyDeleteCLEANING OUT THE CLOSET
ReplyDeletea terza rima
My bedroom is clean (Just don’t open the closet.)
That’s exactly the thing that my mother did do.
I pick up all my stuff! In the closet I toss it.
My mom calls my mess a big hullabaloo.
I’m not sure what that means except I have to clean
out my closet. The mess is too big, it just grew.
There are two or three toys, or maybe nineteen,
or eleven hundred, I’ll just have to look.
So I open the door, and three piles start to lean.
Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein, stacks of old books.
There are lions and tigers and bears, oh my!
They would certainly tumble if anything shook.
And there’s Candyland, Cootie, old games stored up high
where I can’t even reach if I stand on my toes.
There are too many things, I just can’t even try.
On the floor lay some piles of my dirty old clothes.
Since they need to be washed, I decide to start there.
I toss them downstairs and then realize I know
what to do. Two or three socks and one pair
of blue pants, that uncomfortable shirt with the cuffs
are the only clothes left, and not one thing I wear.
So I move all the clothes to my drawers. That’s enough.
Now my closet’s the storeroom for all of my stuff.
I actually laughed out loud as I read the last line :-). love this one!
DeleteYea, I understand closets. I laughed out loud also at this very amusing poem! Awesome job Victoria!
DeleteWhat a wonderful poem this would be to see illustrated!Good job, very vivid.
DeleteThis reminds of a cleaner version of "Sarah Cynthia Silvia Stout Would Not Take the Garbage out", closet version. Excellent write, and very nostalgic. I think all of us as children used our closets as a storage locker.
DeleteI had a low shelf and a kids chair in my closet and I could hide in there and write or draw. But it go so full of stuff I could hardly get in there. This made me think of that memory. Good poem!
DeleteY'know Mar, I had totally forgotten about my own closet sanctuary. For a short time I was in a bedroom by myself that had a long narrow closet. All my pitifully few clothes fit at the back so I put a pillow and blanket in there and used to go there to read. I think a space like that would make me feel claustrophobic these days.
DeleteFirst of all I want to volunteer to do the prompt for the poem after Mar does hers. I didn't know we had to volunteer. Actually, I thought we would do it in some sort of order. But, this will work. I am next. OK?
ReplyDeleteMy First True Love Came Out of the Closet
ReplyDeleteHe came out of the closet at 24
He was my first true love and I couldn't tell
He only kissed me once after his prom
He didn't even know himself that he was gay
He was my first true love and I couldn't tell
Bernie came to see me every day and I didn't know
He didn't even know himself that he was gay
We swapped stamps, I taught him chess
Bernie came to see me every day and I didn't know
He rode his bike like a gallant horse
We swapped stamps, I taught him chess
He told me funny stories and I laughed
He rode his bike like a gallant horse
I always wondered why he never got fresh
He told me funny stories and I laughed
Once he said I love you but I don't know why
I always wondered why he never got fresh
At his prom he told me I was pretty but we talked about math
Once he said I love you but I don't know why
He went through his teen years very confused
At his prom he told me I was pretty but we talked about math
He only kissed me once after his prom
He went through his teen years very confused
He came out of the closet at 24.
awesome write. the pantoum style fits the seriousness of the topic and you did it very well.
DeleteThanks, Bonnie!
DeleteFine poem, beautifully put, I am in awe!
DeleteAwesome pantoum. I had no idea he was gay. And funny, my first date turned out to be gay also. He's not my friend on Facebook.
DeleteI love the way you tell the story - your compassion shows in the way you focus on his own confusion. And Bonnie is right - the pantoum style really works well for this one.
DeleteAmazing style which brings this piece so much grace and class. It's also kind of heartbreaking at the same time. "Once he said I love you but I don't know why" has to be my favorite line here. Fantastic write!
DeleteThe pantoun style really leant itself to the ongoing confusion of growing up not knowing who you are really. But we talked about math. love it.
DeleteMy closet is stuffed because
ReplyDeleteI live in a small apartment
and there is almost nowhere
to put anything away, except
this rather small closet
which I share with my beloved,
who has a shoe collection
that is larger than mine,
believe it or not!
Besides my shoes and his,
my clothing and his, there are
my hats, which can't
go into the coat closet because
we have to keep the toilet paper
on the top shelf and the coat closet
is quite small and has very little room
for anything but our coats--
we have too many.
On the other hand,
in this apartment I do have
two closets, while in my last apartment
I had only one which I shared
with my beloved and we had to fit
everything into it, which was not easy
so we put hooks on the back
of the front door to the living room
and hung our coats on them.
Is there ever enough closet space?
Is it possible to have so few things
that you need very little space for them?
I do not think I can imagine
having only a few things and maybe
more space than I need to put them,
especially when my beloved enjoys
collecting the various and sundry
things like shoes, that he loves.
By Tasha Halpert
Nope, never enough closet space. LOL
DeleteOh, Tasha My closet is jammed and I'm the only one in it....did I say that right???? LOL Fun poem. Lots of insight to you and your beloved...I loved it!!!!
DeleteI can definitely relate! Lived in a much smaller apartment a few years back and had no where to put ANYTHING and I had that closet all to myself! You definitely capture the struggle with amazing imagery.
Deletewe have to long closets ... one in each of our bedrooms. my husband'sis so crammed I have a hard time hanging up his clothes, while mine which is slightly smaller than his has space left for more. funny how closets become important.. i can't use the linen closet for linens because he has it stuffed with his mouthwashes, liquid soaps, and all sorts of stuff. but then i grew up sharing one small closet with my sisters... yeah this poem hit home with me.
DeleteGetting rid of stuff is what I am trying to do but it's difficult to figure which stuff. I feel like I have to try harder after feeling the claustrophobic closets in your poem!
DeleteThe Man That No One Knew
ReplyDeleteHe walked alone in shadows
In mystery and gloom
Beneath the bridge-
Is where he made his bed,
And we were curious
About this man that no one knew
But we never stopped
To ask of him his stories
Because we were made somehow aware,
That those were tales he'd never voice.
So our questions went unanswered
By the man that no one knew
Yet still we passed him day by day
As he begged us for our change,
And though he piqued our intellect,
He never sparked a change
In human empathy.
This man that no one knew
He carried all his sorrows
Like the shame he could not hide.
Buried deep somewhere
Within the cluttered closets of his mind.
And we wondered but never stopped to help
The man that no one knew
"He walked alone in shadows..."I love that line...I love the whole poem but the first line just drew me in like a precious ruby in a thrift shop. "He carried all his sorrows Like the shame he could not hide..." wow words put together very well...Lost man and lost feelings. Great poem!
Deletelove the unique character this poem takes on with the closet of his mind... well done and very profound!
DeleteThis captures the unknown beingness of those hapless ones we meet and examines our reactions.. I tend to wonder what people's stories are. Never stop to ask though. A very thoughtful poem.
DeleteA totally different view of a closet. Great poem too. I tend to give people stories. I wish I knew the real ones.
DeleteVery poignant poem. The repetition is very effective here. Reminds me a bit of Poe, and how his repetition worked in his. Good piece.
DeleteLast as usual. Ah well. Took me a while....
ReplyDeleteUnexpected Attic Access
"I need to get into the attic"
the AC tech said matter of factly
"Not sure you can get there from here"
I said. As he darted out to his truck
I opened the hall closet
empty but for its pile of boxes,
Pushed up on the hat shelf,
found it folded back easily.
Pushed up on the cloths pole,
found that popped right out of its caps.
as I slide box after box out and into the hall
here comes Mr tech with his folding ladder
He props, climbs, pushes up the lid
and disappears. "Nice Space up here" he says
from out of sight, and a sudden light
shines through the square opening.
I have to see, I climb up the ladder, look around
suddenly I;m sitting on the edge of the unfamiliar
it's totally clean and empty, but for fiberglass bats
I make mental notes, location of the light switch
Kinda odd how you can live for years underneath
an unknown unimagined emptiness
More insulation couldn't hurt.
Found space, as opposed to a found poem. I love the concept. We just moved into a new studio space that has upstairs storage. It was too dirty for me to even want to try going up there, but my son Ian when up and cleaned and it's turning into usable space.
DeleteYes, what a weird feeling it must be to see all that empty space above you and never to have known it was there before. I would never be able to leave it empty...lol
ReplyDeleteOMG no! Am in the the getting rid of phase of life, rather than the fill it up phase. In the poem I think I want to change "emptiness" to "spaciousness" in the penultimate line. Sounds more positive.
ReplyDeleteI am at that stage as well... get rid of the clutter and have space around me... I like the mystery of the unknown space though :-).
DeleteI understand Mar but I have a hoarder husband...does that say it all????
DeleteHA HA, me too, he manages to fill up whatever space I open up!!!!!! Oh Well, he's a precious soul and I can live with his little habits. He does after all live nicely with mine.
DeleteWell I'm the hoarder in my house (which is a good thing because I live alone and if it weren't me....well, it would be really scary!)
ReplyDeleteCloset Poem
It is the dawning of the Age of Decluttering.
Not just down-sizing babyboomers
but people of all ages are exhorted:
Stop letting clutter hold you back!
Streamline your life!
Get rid of what no longer serves you!
Keep only what brings you true joy!
I’m a pack rat. A lazy pack rat.
Such calls to action terrify me.
I am a quivering lazy pack rat
surrounded by stuff. All my stuff.
So much stuff I cannot always find
the stuff I need when I want it.
I could go through my stuff –
my closets, my dresser drawers,
the cellar, the attic, bookcases –
sort things out, save only what
I really need. I could do that.
If I make space in my closets
I will have room for more stuff,
room for skeletons and secrets,
room for what I do not want.
Once again I decide live in the open,
surrounded by all my stuff.
©Priscilla Anne Tennant