❝I am from the barren concrete.❞

Message from Writer

•ᴥ• basically inactive on here
•ᴥ• i come back once in a while (but my old writing makes me cringe sometimes oops)
•ᴥ• thank you for still remembering me; drop a comment if you want to talk! (my newest post is pretty empty)

"He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words."
– Elbert Hubbard

“Quotation is a serviceable substitute for wit.”
– Oscar Wilde

An antique of sorts

February 7, 2019


It's old.

Worn out keys and peeled off paint-
once golden and turning grey bronze;
dust covered its black body.

Its little screen is scratched,
looking through a window of age
and of the reflection of my eyes.

Almost like blocks of chocolate, 
each square, each trapezium
engraved with numbers and letters
unknowns and functions
with a font I do not recognize.

The stories it can tell;
the secrets it heard.
The journey it's been on-
groaning and crushed 
at the bottom of bags.

The smell of cypress;
cracked leather
with its crinkling breaths-

It lay in its post, 
patiently waiting
for the familiar fingers 
to click, click, and click

infesting it with the smell of memories.

Maybe it's been broken
maybe it's been lost
maybe it's been replaced
and maybe it's been dropped

But it is still here, innit? 

Oh, the good ol' times
when things were simpler
an inkling scent of cherries and fruit
of the ball-pointed pen
that slides its way across scratchy papers

Yes, yes. 
It remembers.
Of course it remembers.
An antique of sorts-
one man's junk and another's treasure.

"Oh, it's old alright."


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1 Comment
  • Pi_Pen

    Wow, I really love this poem. The description is so perfect, I swear I was smelling what you were describing at the end. It really perfectly paints the picture of the antique, and I particularly love the last line, "one man's junk and another's treasure." This is truly a wonderful poem!

    over 1 year ago