C Richard Miles


Junkshop Dreams - Poem by C Richard Miles

Last night I dreamed junkshop dreams:
A cornucopia of semi-mislaid memories
Gathered haphazardly in a
Half-formed fog of forgetfulness
As a wet weekend in Morecambe
Entangled its frayed cables
With an unused Eurostar ticket to Paris.

Discarded clips of childhood toys
Scuttled semi-opaquely across the scene
As Winifred, Edward and Marcus
Three time-worn tattered teddy bears
Sat stacked in a cobwebbed corner
Suppressing surprised, skewed smiles.

The first, one eye and arm absent,
Sported a string vest I knitted myself.
The second, secretly purloined
From my sister who preferred her dolls.
The last, crudely handcrafted,
Pale lemon, with brown cotton stitches.

The box-brownie lurked somewhere, too
Grasping crazy-angled snaps of
Sixties’ schooltrip to London
Still soot-stained black and grey,
The shots not quite in sepia but
Boyhood black and white.

The cricket bat, battered itself
Held together with tin and string
And nuts and bolts, now rusted
Creaks its presence as reminiscences
Rebound like the red-rubber ball
Tapped against the pebbledash.

Junkshop dreams metamorphose
Into a well-catalogued museum
Of meaningful memories
A cornucopia of comfort
To leave a lasting legacy of
Once-unwanted stuff.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 3, 2009

Poem Edited: Tuesday, February 2, 2010


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