The Collector

Snip of velvet,
trim of lace,
stone without edge
hazed soft by sea;

greed is a collector’s fate.
Nothing matters more
than his growing
glass menagerie.

Sprig of hair,
crumpled poetry,
antique beads
of heart-shaped jewelry;

loneliness is a collector’s fate.
His horde his true companion,
’till death do they disagree.

Vintage postcards,
porcelain figurines,
the noble faces
of foreign currency;

obsession is a collector’s fate.
One find fuels another
in the search for ancient filigree.

It’s true, time corrodes,
his ill-gotten gains begot,
but the collector’s content
to watch it all rot.

© 2023 | K.Hartless


20 comments

  1. A great poem on the theme of Greed. Interesting, how the collector is content with letting their collections rot, implying how the act of collecting is more important to them than the items. Nicely done, K.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you. I find most collectors are far more interested in the “find” but yes, the items are in a way rotting, even when well cared for. Those unused objects of obsession. I appreciate this, Jay.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. A powerful exploration of hoarding rare mementos – loved your vivid descriptions and that bittersweet overtone of it eventually rotting to dust. Beautifully imagined, K!

    Liked by 2 people

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