The Fragility of Mind

[miyako73]

I cannot really tell you
Why I count these pennies—
Hundreds of them in the big jar.

It is the same story
With the spoons and forks
In the lined kitchen drawer,
The cups and saucers
I pair like couples
In the cupboard,
The hangers I fix
And neatly arrange in the closet
Doorless now,
The old shirts I fold again and again
On top of the outgrown pants
But I will not wear,
The books in the dusty shelf
That I cannot remember
If I have already read them,
The letters in the shoebox
Not in envelopes
Still not mailed,
The disposable pens on my study table
That have already dried up
Except the red,
The papers bulking the folders
I read and reread
Even though they are not poems,
The tiny holes in the bed linens
My forefinger pokes
And my hands cannot mend,
The threads and the feathers
I pull from the pillows
Because they no longer tickle,
The hairs I shed
On the threadbare couch
While watching endless infomercials,
The crumbs on the floor
From the expired bread
That does not give stomachache,
The cigarette butts
Filling the soup bowl
I just cannot throw away,
The candy wrappers
I collect and keep
To remind me of childhood.

I do not really know
Why I count these toothpicks—
After these, the sewing pins.





Miyako

(c) 2/2/2014

[Mohammad Ahmad]

Hi, Miyako 73
You leave nothing of your kitchen contents unless you mentioned in your poetry
You collect and keep, to remind you your childhood....
But is the kitchen the usual place of toothpicks? I think the bathroom!
Then what is about the crockery? no plural
2- I read your another poem and I just advise you to shorten your poems, even if some poems need to be prolonged in order to complete the idea.
I myself sometimes do alike, but I think 14- 20 lines are enough
Good night to all poets....

[miyako73]

Thanks for reading and your advice. Take care.