Emu Getachew

Rookie - 0 Points (October 18 / Ethiopia)


Cold concrete floor and deafening silence
locks on every door displaying numbers
no names or personalities, no music or kid’s steps
just the sound of all seasons rushing to escape
sneaking through the cracks are our collective tales.

Old photo albums, and dresses with there tags
unopened Christmas presents, and the crystal wine glass
love letters from the seventies and teddy bears from the past
Oh! grandma recipes books and old biker pants.

Ballet dancer shoes and the exercise sound tracks
broken plastic chairs and plastic covered sofas
empty perfume bottles and the broken music box
the left over gift wraps and of course dirty dolls.

The babies’ first shoes and grandpas' eye wears
old crumbled maps and mangled license plates
The high-school diplomas and dried gummy bears
college essay papers and expired credit cards.

The unfinished craft projects and dried paint brushes
dust dressed magazines and the old version software
mismatched socks with holes and smaller blouse with stains
the forgotten changes in the pockets and washed up dollar bills.

Wondering through the coldness of Public-Self-Storage
are our defiant tails 'occupying' unnecessary space.

© Emu Getachew, October 30th,2009

Submitted: Friday, October 30, 2009
Edited: Tuesday, October 25, 2011


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  • Rookie - 62 Points Kesav Easwaran (11/8/2009 8:19:00 PM)

    Well said Emu...a house is always a self-public-storing place...for a house too grows, over the years gets old, keeps within its memoirs and looks out for new hopes to add on...memoirs and hopes- some private some public...thanks...10 (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 61 Points Efe Benjamin (11/8/2009 9:37:00 AM)

    what a wonderful poem you have. i really like your style of writing it really ispires me a lot
    thanks for sharing (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 0 Points Alf Hutchison (11/2/2009 3:51:00 PM)

    This reminded me of that old song 'little boxes on a hillside' all filled with sensless artifact in a place we call home... very enjoyable read thanks for the invite Emu... regards Alf (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Chitra - (11/2/2009 12:22:00 AM)

    An interesting impressionistic write...A packsack of keepsakes...a wonderful metaphorical poem, enjoyed it alot (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 1 Points Swatimalya Chattopadhyay (11/1/2009 4:53:00 AM)

    Excellent.My own sentiments come from within.I hesitate to throw many articles, fully knowing their obsolence and depleting usefulness, only considering their emotional values.My museum comprises many postcards/inlands of my parents, many small articles of the children and some gifts from near and dear ones which apparently have lost their relevance.Very touching poem. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 534 Points Louis Rams (10/31/2009 9:11:00 PM)

    one persons garbage is another persons treasures.

    and with memories you can not measure.

    good write and very well put. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 0 Points Rajkumar Mukherjee (10/31/2009 8:01:00 AM)

    Daer Emu.
    Thanks for your invite.A nice descriptive poem of memoirs in impressionist's style.
    The rhyming and metre break-up is also almost perfect except in L5 and L6 where I suggest changes as follows:
    In L5 change to 'wine glass' instead of 'glasses'
    In L 6 'THE' can be removed to bring balance.
    Of course, that is my personal opinion. Choice is left to you.
    Overall I liked the poem and rated high.. Keep on writing.
    Rajkumar (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Samanyan Lakshminarayanan (10/30/2009 8:31:00 PM)

    just like how our shelves of memory holds the old sweet moments...so is this collection of articles which brings back these memories to us..a different and lovely poem any one will relate to...10 (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 299 Points Almedia Knight-Oliver (10/30/2009 8:01:00 PM)

    An interesting title 'public-self-storage-space'. I susposed both man and woman use to have keepsakes or just keep things for the sake of keeping them. [for sentiment or because some things are difficult from which to part.] In these mordern time most things are disposable though. I enjoyed reading such a poem with such a fresh perpective on storing away self. Thanks for sharing...a 10 I* give this delightful poem. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Emma_1221@list.ru Adamyan (10/30/2009 12:41:00 PM)

    while reading it, as if i was on the garret, sorting out an old native stuff of several generations... very cosy and nice poem, good work (Report) Reply

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