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Array ( [sid] => 24567 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Family Heirloom [time] => 2003-10-07 12:50:18 [hometext] => .....i amaze myself at what collects in my life.... [bodytext] => The snow-covered,
lighted church
sits lonely
on the bottom shelf,
as well it should.
Along side
stands a
ceramics-class
figurine,
a little girl
in bright pink,
representing
my childhood soul.
In front
sits the dish
from Hawaii,
a place my spirit
descended into hell.
Resting inside
this souvenir
is a too-tight
bracelet
of pure tiger's eye,
giving solace somehow
to old memories.
Inside the drawer
are tealights
to pay homage
to a lost faith,
candles to stand tall
burned at the wick.
On the top
is a palm tree
candleholder,
the epitome
of a place
indicative of
freedom.
The teakwood
buddha
sits in sand,
praying through
glass
encased
in barbed wire,
like the essence
of my heart.
The waterfall
fountain
sits broken,
works
only when it
wants to,
like my tears
flow.
All my memories,
past
and
present,
rest eternally
on the
family heirloom
of lies. [comments] => 8 [counter] => 174 [topic] => 48 [informant] => jaeann [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )

Family Heirloom

Contributed by jaeann on Tuesday, 7th October 2003 @ 12:50:18 PM in AEST
Topic: EmotionalPoetry

The snow-covered,
lighted church
sits lonely
on the bottom shelf,
as well it should.
Along side
stands a
ceramics-class
figurine,
a little girl
in bright pink,
representing
my childhood soul.
In front
sits the dish
from Hawaii,
a place my spirit
descended into hell.
Resting inside
this souvenir
is a too-tight
bracelet
of pure tiger's eye,
giving solace somehow
to old memories.
Inside the drawer
are tealights
to pay homage
to a lost faith,
candles to stand tall
burned at the wick.
On the top
is a palm tree
candleholder,
the epitome
of a place
indicative of
freedom.
The teakwood
buddha
sits in sand,
praying through
glass
encased
in barbed wire,
like the essence
of my heart.
The waterfall
fountain
sits broken,
works
only when it
wants to,
like my tears
flow.
All my memories,
past
and
present,
rest eternally
on the
family heirloom
of lies.

Copyright © jaeann ... [ 2003-10-07 12:50:18]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Family Heirloom (User Rating: 1 )
by seekasey on Tuesday, 7th October 2003 @ 12:53:40 PM AEST
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I LIKE

Re: Family Heirloom (User Rating: 1 )
by Ilhar on Tuesday, 7th October 2003 @ 01:35:01 PM AEST
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strong emotional write, well done
Shari

Re: Family Heirloom (User Rating: 1 )
by Merry on Tuesday, 7th October 2003 @ 01:40:20 PM AEST
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this is a wodnerful write - we all have our trinkets and the bits and pieces of our lives stashed in bottom drawers and china closets - this poem brings it all to light

i feel like i should go through all that stuff and get rid of it.....

merry

Re: Family Heirloom (User Rating: 1 )
by cant-skate on Tuesday, 7th October 2003 @ 03:50:34 PM AEST
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nice and emotional ! i like it :D :D

Re: Family Heirloom (User Rating: 1 )
by norm on Tuesday, 7th October 2003 @ 05:07:35 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

I loved your poem
-------------------------------
If I had these dust collectors
The thought I think would make me pale,
I'd go right out and get a sign
Saying to all, "GARAGE SALE"

Re: Family Heirloom (User Rating: 1 )
by Jenni_Kalicharan on Tuesday, 7th October 2003 @ 05:27:51 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Lovely write, Jaeann... Thanks for the memories this brought to me..
Jenni

Re: Family Heirloom (User Rating: 1 )
by DreamWeaver on Tuesday, 7th October 2003 @ 07:01:03 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Wonderful write ... love how you wove all your trinkets and memories and sadness into one ... Jan

Re: Family Heirloom (User Rating: 1 )
by lovingcritters on Tuesday, 7th October 2003 @ 11:09:28 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Dear Jaymee....how touching, how heart wrendering your words. When my house burned to the ground, Jaymee, I was liked never lived before that day. Everything that I was went up in smoke. I still go looking for things that I know I had...but they are gone. Sometimes, I'm glad...for your past has many hurtful emotions also, like yours in this poem....does it do harm to throw them out and clean the hurt from your heart? That's the only time I'm glad mine went up in smoke!
LovingcrittersI love you
Connie Sue

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