THE JUNKYARD OF FORGOTTEN TREASURES
In the junkyard of forgotten treasures
a bird's nest lay calmly, waiting
waiting for a bird to rest on its twigs.
A picture of two men in berets
sits lonely, worn by rain.
Church bells lay hopelessly,
silently pleading to be rung.
A cardboard box
that's never been used
lays underneath something broken.
Smoke billows from the fire,
a fire that never burns out.
A delivery truck
comes every day
and throws in more wasted treasure
from an old photo of cliff divers
to a diamond ring,
from a book that's never been read,
to an old bottle
that was thrown away,
its juice still inside.
-Ashley Babcock
Age 11, Lane County, Oregon
PARTNER POEM
MRS. LYONS
She could untie the dawn, Mrs. Lyons,
and out would come a bird born
in a cardboard box or an orange
that unpeels itself. She kept in her red
breast pocket a postcard of cliff
divers in Hawaii and a white nest
made of her handkerchief.
Her voice was as old as churchbells,
her hair billowing chimney smoke,
her heart and veins little girls
jumping rope. When she looked
at you, you'd see rain
penetrating the earth with its
soft voice. Her hands were two
old men talking excitedly in French,
berets riding the world of ideas.
This moment is the broken thing,
Mrs. Lyons.
Please come back and teach me again
what you once did in 6th grade.
-Rebecca Childers
Lane County, Oregon
ASK THE POEM
1. What is the most valuable treasure a poem can own?
2. Is it possible for something you never see or touch to be the thing you treasure most? How? Why?
3. Can you imagine a new scene including birds, berets and churchbells?
4. If you could unpeel yourself like an orange or be opened like a book (that's never been read) which would you choose? What would we find inside?
5. How does rain change you? Do you fade, shine, or react in your own unique way?
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