Unwanted Treasures

Walnut table

I believe meaning and purpose often dies with us. Emotions are very hard to pass on …except through genetic predispositions. So much is gone when one dies. A lifetime of memories and stories are left untold, while a few cherished moments and trauma live on …sometimes for generations.

I see it happening, when I volunteer at the Habitat Restore. Parents die leaving a houseful of keepsakes. A handful are saved, and our box truck brings us the rest. Stuff often loses meaning when passed from generation to generation. Young folks have their life, their own stuff; So, unwanted treasures from the past go to be sold to someone who will cherish them, and then perhaps they too will be passed on, resold, or discarded.

Our cherished treasures

full of memories long past

Help build new houses

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Note: Habitat for Humanity Restore is a place that takes donations of many kinds that are resold. The money is used to build new low-income houses for families who otherwise would not be able to afford one. In the past our store alone has taken in enough in one year to build ten new houses.

For more information: https://www.habitat.org/together-we-build?

Princess Treasures

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Sweet little sisters

Linger over each shell found;

Assessing whether

the newest one

just might be a little better

than the one before;

Washing the sand away

putting each precious find

into their bucket of memories

to carry home

with them at days end.

Today at d’Verse, Linda asked us to linger on the word linger, and write a Quadrille (exactly 44 words)  using it in some form! My poem is about two sweet little girls we saw who were next to us at the beach last week. They were having so much fun collecting shells in the surf, they did not know anyone else existed.

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Life is a Collection

Russian Dolls

Life is a Collection

From birth announcement to death certificate

Life is a collection of items saved or tossed

Valued pieces set aside and preserved

Carefully kept along with memories

Bronzed shoes remembering first steps

Crayoned pictures from primary school

A red heart with an “I love you mom!”

Certificates in a box mark accomplishments

Cards from special people for special occasions

Jewelry passed down from mother to daughter

Memories of Grandmother reading stories

Trips taken, cups and teaspoons collected and saved

Photos in the family album now transferred to digital

Grandmother’s china carefully set for special occasions

A box of keepsakes valued only by me

A pocket knife, a baseball card, cufflinks, a bowtie

Memories soon to be forgotten by those coming after

Preserved history like the rings on a tree

Soon to be cut down and chipped into paper

Recording their memories of the future

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Photo of the Russian Dolls and Spike the Tomato : Dwight L. Roth

Read the story of Spike the Tomato on my Amazon Kindle collection….

 

 

Attics

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Why do we store away the traumatic events of our life? For some, they are just memories of past events. Others store their injuries and pain like treasures in the attic. They no longer have any useful purpose in life, but the lack of forgiveness keeps them alive and tender. It becomes our personal Pandora’s box that no one wants to open. We all know it will only be a review of past pain, that no one but a psychiatrist wants to hear. Time to clean out the attic and let go of things that continue to haunt us. Forgiveness doesn’t take away the memory or the hurt, but it takes away the necessity of reliving it over and over again.

Attics

Dwelling on collections of the past

Memories never moving for many years

Stuck, reliving events that won’t go away

Collecting dust of regrets

Stimulating coughs and sneezes

In anyone who dares stir

Attics for old treasures long remembered

For some, treasures of hurt and pain

Treasured to nurse pity and sorrow

Dusty old treasures of the mind

Blade twisting each time

Pandora’s box

Avoided by all

Only to be opened after death

Some better left for ashes

A Moment of Glory

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Reincarnated Beauty

I am a lily rising to the sun

Blooming for a moment

Wilting follows fifteen minutes of fame

Beauty to be admired and remembered

Photographed and stashed away

Living for a time in general obscurity

In the oppressing intensity of time

Dying back to the bulb

Only to rise once again after winter

Reaching for the sunlight

Reflecting the treasure of the bulb

Stored away for spring reincarnation

Another moment of glory revisited

Only to experience the fragility of life

Wilting once again at days end

Turning inward to feed the bulb

Till once again the treasure

Is opened once more

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Photo: Dwight l. Roth

 

Ornaments of Love

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I taught elementary school  for 29 years. At Christmas some of my students and fellow teachers brought Christmas ornaments to give me . It was always special to get these gifts from them. Over the years I have collected quite a few, which I added to my tree. As a result I have never had to buy decorations. I simply hang all of their gifts of love on my tree and remember the smiling faces of those who cared enough to share them with me.

This is not a poem today, but rather a few of the gifts I received over the years. Some of the ornaments like this stamp have the date stamped on them. The picture above was from 1982.  This was from 1977 when postage was only 13 cents!

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Some like this one were homemade ornaments.

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Each Christmas my grandchildren come and help decorate our tree. They really enjoy looking at each one and placing it in a special place on the tree.

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Photos: Dwight L.Roth