tales of things


Seemingly obvious, yet difficult to list

my dad’s crisp uniform polished brass stars on epaulets; fear marinated with pride

a metal box with a small brass holder with mama’s jewel trinket; pieces of my heart

the caramel ice cream bowl he refused to share on our first date; still special

the grey tape deck that had a loose play button; impression of my fingers stamped

crumble left overs of my brother’s favorite biscuit cake; an embodiment of life

his ugly school journal with scribbled words; touching it is like feeling him

my son’s precious three dimensional birthday card; gaudily populated with her love

a red resplendent dress gushing with their story; tantalizing with belief

dripping cones at the border of your adulthood; a girl cleaving her life in cities

A ragged blue stuffed toy, a pink podgy bear; my daughter’s friends in strange lands

the cuckoo with a broken beak reluctantly peeping from the clock; inventing change

the stone piggy bank full of pennies and cents; a collection of embarrassing moments

letters of our courtship stuffed into a burlap bag; weighing heavy in vulnerable trust

the Buddha’s in bronze, agate blue, a reclining pose; sitting around self absorbed


all of the above; neither  holding on nor letting go

always available just at the edge of courageous memory

always available to pick from

especially on nights like tonight

when I need an unobtrusive excuse

to let the tears flow




about things





Published by Kashiana

I am a management professional by job classification and a work practitioner by personal preference. One poetry collection - Shelling Peanuts and Stringing Words and a chapbook, Crushed Anthills. Always gathering poems, and letting them marinate and change shape and form.

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