Shovel

He dug himself a hole in the ground
a place to burrow dreams for
safekeeping while he tended to
responsibilities

Locked them
tightly in a brass tin and kept the key
hidden from sight

as dreams belong to
youth and freedom in an age before
lost chances and untraveled roads

laid the tin down and shoveled
layers of dark earth, blanketing
wishes

forgotten ambition.

Neglecting the hole in the ground
trudging in and out of the room that
represented the key kept
stowed away like buried treasure

work clasps wrists together in
irons of promises and paychecks
a black and white way for which he
did not remember asking

as
years accumulated in place of
life

until he remembered the
shovel behind the garage ‘neath
glass marked
in case of

emergency

– – –

This week’s Speakeasy prompt must refer to the photo below and begin with the phrase, “He dug himself a hole in the ground.”

Holy crap, I wrote a poem. Someone please resuscitate me.

25 Comments

Suzanne

April 24, 2013 at 7:20 pm Reply

Yay! I’m so glad you posted this. It’s fantastic Natalie! I totally identify with the theme in this and love the metaphor of the tin — as well as the shovel!

This stanza in particular is to die for:
“as dreams belong to
youth and freedom in an age before
lost chances and untraveled roads”

Awesome take on the prompts!

Natalie the Singingfool
April 25, 2013 at 9:55 am Reply
Thank you! Poetry is my kryptonite – something I’ve always wanted to be amazing at, but was too scared to try…

Squishy Amber

April 24, 2013 at 8:08 pm Reply

*applauds and resuscitates*

Natalie the Singingfool
April 25, 2013 at 9:56 am Reply
Thank you. *Gulps air deeply*

Celeste

April 24, 2013 at 8:13 pm Reply

That is so beautiful. You should post more poetry. It becomes you.

Natalie the Singingfool
April 25, 2013 at 9:57 am Reply
Thank you! I keep it all secreted away in a journal so no one can read it and possibly laugh at me…

Ericamos

April 24, 2013 at 9:17 pm Reply

And it’s a damn good poem!!

Natalie the Singingfool
April 25, 2013 at 9:59 am Reply
Thanks, girl!

Chris Plumb

April 24, 2013 at 10:24 pm Reply

Loved the break of structure for

as
years accumulated in place of
life

…I dug up my box, and ate it. It was full of donuts, and I couldn’t handle it anymore.

Natalie the Singingfool
April 25, 2013 at 10:00 am Reply
Donuts are a good dream to have, my friend. Mine is full of Nutella and whipped cream.
Thanks for the encouragement. 🙂

Sandra Crook

April 25, 2013 at 3:27 am Reply

Excellent; I really liked this.

Natalie the Singingfool
April 25, 2013 at 10:00 am Reply
Thanks, Sandra!

Stacie

April 25, 2013 at 4:42 am Reply

Love your poem! You’re a natural!!

Natalie the Singingfool
April 25, 2013 at 10:01 am Reply
Thank you, Stacie! Of all the things I write, poetry feels the least natural to me, lol. It’s fun to try, though!

Lori Wise

April 25, 2013 at 6:07 am Reply

Wonderful! This is something with which those of us who are…ahem, getting up in years…can certainly identify.

Natalie the Singingfool
April 25, 2013 at 10:01 am Reply
Thank you! You know, I’m starting to feel it…

Beduwen

April 25, 2013 at 9:41 am Reply

How you came up with this after looking at the picture of the building is beyond me. You are so talented!

Natalie the Singingfool
April 25, 2013 at 10:02 am Reply
Thank you! I don’t know how my brain works sometimes…

jon

April 25, 2013 at 2:37 pm Reply

This made me consider my own buried dreams and remember when life seemed so full of possibilities. I guess it still is, though. Maybe it’s time to declare an emergency.