Life’s Paraphernalia

So much paraphernalia,
So much unused stuff,
So many things I harbour,
Much more than enough.

Clobber, gubbins, rubbish,
Pieces, bobs and bits,
Odds and sods and samples,
Sacks and stacks and kits.

The trappings of a lifetime,
Those rituals of living;
Those gifts I’ve found no use for,
Detritus of our giving.

Equipment stored unneeded,
Tackle, kitsch and things,
Scraps, tools, props, utensils,
The gear existence brings.

Goods, impedimenta,
Odds and ends and dunnage,
All such appurtenances,
Equipage and luggage.

I hope when I’ve departed
They’ll build a huge bonfire,
Add to the accoutrements,
That I’ll no more require.

And when the fires of afterlife
Are fully stoked with such,
In Heaven or Hell, where’re I dwell,
I shall not worry – much!

Postbox Blues

Photo: WHB  … January 2019

A victim of
the email age
Now little used
My lonely lot

Now disengaged
Now cast aside
Now otiose
And left to die

Surplus to need 
The need for speed
My busy days
Have been and gone

Bustle and throb
Of vibrant life
Have passed away
Now ceased to be

My history
Of want and need
Of purposeful
Incarnation

Depository
For all junk mail
Dead detritus
Torn off waste 

Pariah now
The street’s reject
Too slow to match
The call for speed

Demand for pace
The need to know
Have caught me up
And let me go 

Have brought about
This timely end
So pass me by
And do not fret

As life now fades
My mission done
To desuetude
I now descend

ReplyForward

The Detritus Of Time

 [ Wednesday Replay # 5 ] 

Previously Posted on September 6, 2016

 

TIME’S  DETRITUS

Once upon a time,
In a pool and mired in grime,
I found a body, floating high.
A desolate place to die.

A basin for a tomb;
Blue plastic for a shroud.
A watery necropolis
For beauty now anonymous.

Abandoned, left to rot,
That was to be her lot.
Discarded and bereft,
Beauty the sands of time had left.

She’s found a resting place
Without sacrament or grace.
Long ago loved but now
The victim of a broken vow.

This unseemly end
My heart did rend.
‘The detritus of time’
Will end my rhyme.

 

The photograph was taken by me in 2004 on a farm in East Devon, England.