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Minnesota, United States
As I walk along in life, my muses dance with reflection inspiring me to release the thoughts and emotions of my pondering mind through poetry.

Prompt Poetry & Promotion page for The River

*plus the archive of my older poetry

Sunday, June 12, 2011

The Collector

Rob Hanson

The Collector
In the neighborhood when I was a kid
there lived this strange sort of a man
he somehow lived off the grid
and he chased us with a frying pan.

He lived all alone around the bend
off Fernickle street in that house
of broken shutters with his friend,
his only friend, a house mouse.

When we saw him, we always ran
it seemed to us he’d lost his lid
to survive we had to have a plan
if our parents heard, they forbid.

Then one day we saw a blouse
curious as all we tried to blend
she carried out a plastic grouse
we learned he had come to an end.

She asked if we would help her plan
and carry what he never got rid
her dad was a collector his life span
we said yes it was time to contend.


Brian Miller said...

i bet he had lots of cool stuff to go through...eccentric people fascinate me...great write

Anonymous said...

Isn't One Shoot Sunday awesome? I was so just one of the kids in this piece...drew my in..deep the subtle layers and the simple reflection of the complexity of the layers in the title/concept of the much more than one expects...Did that make any sense?? Ha!

dustus said...

He was a collector of stuff like rubber chickens? Great detail and use of layers. Like your flexible stanzas, and how they relate through image—for instance I imagine when he looses his lid, it's the one from the frying pan used to scare children.

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