Tables roughly set,
All the junk I can find
Set out haphazardly
A mad woman’s breakfast, you might say.
At dawn, they begin to assemble
The junk dealers, predators
Looking for a free bargain,
If they can get it.
Haggling over the silliest things
Want something for nothing
Watch for the pilferers.
Grandma’s old vase, cracked and crazed
Still partially covered in sixty years of dust
Has a presence it hasn’t entertained in so long
The buyers understandably ignore it
I was thinking it would go in a flash
But no at days end it sits alone on the far table
Just as its always done,
Neglected, lonely, making a statement
No idea what,
“Grandma had poorer taste than I thought?”
No matter what we got rid of stuff
People happy to pay to take away my crap.
Written for: https://chelseaannowens.com/2019/09/14/the-weekly-terrible-poetry-contest-38/
Nice one, Michael
Indeed. Oh, did I omit that nasty word? Oops
I wish I can sell my useless junk. Good one!
You’re welcome 😉
One man;s junk is another man’s treasure! Being a seller at a car boot sale, I noticed a woman walking round with a curtain pole. I told her I had rings that would match, and made a sale!
It’s always surprising what people will buy
I know. We found it quite amusing.
Strangely, this was almost too good to be terrible. 🙂
Thanks I think. I’ll have to be more lackadaisical in future
Or just lackical. 😉