The Collector

On By Mick CanningIn Fiction, inspiration, novels, poetry, short stories, writing

Inspiration, writers’ block, ideas…I could write about all or any of these topics. Instead, I thought I’d simply post another poem – plus, of course, a picture (with far better weather than we’re having here) – and let it do the job instead.

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I’m a collector of images long stored in my memory,

A desert inferno of razor-sharp rocks.

A mountain breeze rippling an icy cold puddle,

Thick mists and thin soups, flowers, trains, and old shoes.

 

I’m a collector of memories, both mine and ones borrowed,

The harrowing journey, the lovers’ first kiss.

There’s betrayal and loyalty, flatulence, hope,

There’s a child being born, and a wolf at the door.

 

I’m a collector of stories, the stranger the better,

Believable, odd, and ridiculous too.

Close to home or historical, alien, fanciful,

Some to keep secret and some I can tell.

 

I’m a collector of moonbeams and of chance reflections,

A collector of sadness and bittersweet pain.

A collector of strangely shaped stones in a circle,

And dreams that tell stories I don’t understand.

 

46 thoughts on “The Collector”

  12. Superb!

    As you suffer in the cold, we’re still sweltering here. The temperature has often been as high as 20 degrees at night. So I’ve been a collector of cold drinks and iceblocks, and I haven’t eaten the latter since I was a kid and it was always summer.

    I’m way behind on my blog reading, hence this belated response. Need I say it’s a little cooler today?

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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