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Open Poetry #34
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SPIRIT
Senior Member
since 2002-12-29
Posts 1745
California Desert

0 posted 2004-11-21 07:46 PM


THE PRIZE


            The old man died,
            It had been expected.
            Four sons and two daughters
            Quickly moved in
            To ‘take care’ of business.

            His thrift shop
            That sat in the middle
            Of a graffiti splattered block,
            Within the poorest part of town,
            Would be sorely missed,
            Once gone.

            For nearly fifty years
            The old man ran his business;
            Giving away for free
            As much, if not more…
            Than he sold.
            He was considered
            A patriarch of the community.
            A most diverse neighborhood,
            Of Immigrants from all over,
            A real League of Nations.

            I live opposite the thrift shop,
            I have no relatives that I know of,
            And although I could afford
            Far better living quarters,
            I am at home here.
            Everyone knows my name,
            They treat me with respect,
            And I am invited
            Into their homes and hearts.

            My past is of no importance
            To these kind people,
            And I appreciate that.
            The walls of my small flat,
            Are comforting…a haven,
            I have been here twelve years.
            Before that I was housed
            Behind bars…as a juvenile
            And as a young man.
            Too much time on my hands,
            And more temptation
            Than I could handle,
            Constantly landed me
            Where I did not need to be.

            I am surrounded by my books,
            And a zillion magazines.
            I am an author of two best-selling books,
            And a freelance journalist.
            I share my flat with Emily,
            My fiancé and best friend,
            And two Siamese cats.
            Emily and the cats
            Came as a packaged deal.
            Life is very good.

            The thrift shop has been the site
            Of the biggest and best
            Scavenger hunt… ever known.
            I waited until the end time,
            Not needing or wanting anything
            But curious, to see what I might find,
            Within the nooks and crannies
            Of the old building,
            To see what treasures
            Maybe, had been overlooked.

            The shelves were pretty much empty,
            But for some reason I felt compelled
            As if I was searching for something,
            But I didn’t know what.
            In a back room thrown in a corner,
            Covered with old newspapers
            Was a worse for wear cardboard box,
            Without a doubt I knew this was
            What I needed to find, and to have.

            I took the box up front,
            Showed it to Loretta,
            One of the daughters
            And asked “How much?“
            She looked inside
            Didn’t recognize anything
            And told me, I could take it
            No charge!

            The doors were closing,
            At the end of the week
            Everything needed to be gone.
            I ran across the street
            With my treasure,
            My heart pounding so loud
            In my chest…I was surprised
            Everyone else could not hear it.

            I put the box down, excitedly
            In the middle of the room.
            Pulled down two big pillows from the couch
            And called for Em to come and join me
            On the floor, and look at my prize.

            She looked surprised
            When she saw the box,
            Even more so when she saw
            It was filled...with nothing
            But old pictures, newspaper clippings,
            Postcards and other paper
            Souvenirs of years long past.

            “This is my new book Em,
            My next best-seller.
            Can’t you see it?
            This is a box filled
            With life and memories.
            Shouldn’t be cast aside
            As if these people didn’t exist,
            This is my next book.
            This assuages my need
            For inspiration.”

            So many pictures,
            Obviously all connected,
            School records, dance cards,
            Autographed menus,
            Graduation notices and
            Hand-painted napkins.
            Even an old autograph book
            Filled with childish doggerel.
            News of the Civil War,
            Obituary notices
            Baby books with locks of hair
            And christening notices.
            Someone had cherished their life,
            Kept every memento
            And now this bounty,
            Well over a hundred years later
            Was in my hands.
            I would bring those past,
            Back into the present
            To give them life once again.

            At the bottom of the box.
            Layered between cardboard pieces
            Was the prize to top all prizes.
            A beautiful large photograph
            That someone who cared,
            Had lovingly hand painted
            In exquisite water-colors.
            The man bearded, possibly
            Late forties, early fifties
            Sat on a stool, holding
            A well-crafted walking staff
            Of considerable length.
            Dressed in grey tweed
            He was flaunting the air
            Of a country gentleman.

            Behind him, proudly stood
            His wife, one hand
            Somewhat possessively
            On his shoulder.
            At her side a well-played guitar,
            (Obviously music lovers
            Was my first thought.)
            Her white pinafore type dress,
            Crisscrossed with large black lines
            Was over many petticoats
            And a small straw hat sat jauntily,
            Atop a head of coiled long hair,
            Black and luxurious.
            They were back-dropped against
            Sepia toned clouds within
            A photographer’s studio.

            On the back, barely discernible
            The words Momma and Poppa and a date
            Eighteen hundred and ?
            It will not be a mystery for long
            Once I start researching
            For my next literary challenge.

            ******************

            All of a sudden
            I have relatives.
            If you come to my apartment
            You will see.

            On the wall, over the couch
            Beautifully matted and in gold frame
            Hangs a magnificent picture,
            Of a man and a woman.
            Also complimenting this,
            Are smaller framed pictures
            Of the same couple
            And their family.
            In shadow boxes are displayed
            Mixed medleys of dance cards,
            Menus, and graduation invites.
            Another larger shadow box
            Holds my new best seller,
            Simply titled
            Instant Relatives

[This message has been edited by SPIRIT (11-21-2004 08:33 PM).]

© Copyright 2004 das - All Rights Reserved
ThisDiamond
Member Rara Avis
since 2002-02-22
Posts 9353
Michigan, USA
1 posted 2004-11-21 08:16 PM


Awesome! Pulled me into every line...an extraordinary story within a story.

There is a typo in paragraph 4, thrift ship...I knew what it was supposed to be.
Cannot distract from the pearl you have here.

Thanks for sharing this.
TD

SPIRIT
Senior Member
since 2002-12-29
Posts 1745
California Desert
2 posted 2004-11-21 08:35 PM


Thanks for the heads up...appreciate it. I have read it so many times and didn't catch it.  
passing shadows
Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577
displaced
3 posted 2004-11-22 04:31 AM


oh dear...

how very touching
dang...sigh

Mysteria
Deputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Laureate
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328
British Columbia, Canada
4 posted 2004-11-22 02:38 PM


I am not sure if you wrote this after you posted the poem with the picture your son took, but it's interesting how the two  sort of link together in a way isn't it?  I loved this story poem as I am the greatest collector of other people's old stuff, and have fun trying to figure out where it came from actually.  Nice to see you back by the way Spirit.
Shelley
Member
since 2000-01-27
Posts 263
Ohio, USA
5 posted 2004-11-22 03:03 PM


I don't know what to say other then...

!CAPTIVATING!

I love it. Thank you so much for sharing!

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