Everything but shoes,

no-one walked with you,

a photograph, a jar of shells,

nothing borrowed, something blue.

A yellow stained certificate

on which no fathers name is penned,

a bastard from the very start

as you arrived so you did end.

The residue of chaos

stored neatly out of view,

I open it just now and then

when I can't remember you.

◄ Shoebox

A doorway in a northern town ►


Profile image

Wolfgar Miere

Fri 5th Apr 2019 23:27

Thanks for the flowers folks.


Profile image

Wolfgar Miere

Wed 3rd Apr 2019 12:17

Thanks Stu, and thanks Martin I seemed to have missed your comment somehow...apologies for that.

I already have little boxes of things collected from different places over the years. I suspect they are so random no-one would know their significance without me being present to tell them. They will end their days in some landfill somewhere, just like me...haha.

Thanks again,


Profile image

Stu Buck

Tue 2nd Apr 2019 16:25

great stuff mate. the imagery you bring in so few words is hugely enjoyable and i was with you going through that box. isnt that what we all become in the end? a shoebox in someones house with what we were casually documented, fading.

Profile image

Wolfgar Miere

Tue 2nd Apr 2019 11:33

Thanks for re-commenting Ray and thanks again Rachel, it is a great song.


Profile image


Mon 1st Apr 2019 14:23

Good heavens I love that song...

Profile image


Mon 1st Apr 2019 14:20

Here I am again David! I'll try to recall what I posted in the comment. I was saying that while we agreed there are similarities with The Reckoning, your poem goes a little further in terms of a sense of anonymity and being deprived of dignity. Such a compliment to have been a trigger for this boxed set of words. Thanks mate.


Profile image

Wolfgar Miere

Mon 1st Apr 2019 14:01

Thank you Rachel and Tom,

also thanks to Ray who commented before midnight.

Rather selfishly I realised this scribble would slip off the page hours after I first posted it last night. Consequently I deleted it and re-posted it here, in doing so I lost Rays comment, sorry Ray.

I like to insert suggestions into the text so others can flesh out a story if they see one.


PS, I was not introduced to Tom Waits by Peaky (bloody) blinders, heaven forbid, (Purchased Swordfish Trombones the day of release 1983) nor Nick Cave...I discover music through good taste and research, and by being the GMF.

Profile image

Martin Elder

Mon 1st Apr 2019 10:58

So much packed into one poem, in fact into one shoe box.
Nice one David

Profile image


Mon 1st Apr 2019 04:14

Every now and again, I get wrapped up in the story a poem tells. Some evoke such strong sensory memories that it's not difficult to relate.


If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message