The Antique Shop
One of my favourite pastimes is to spend half an hour browsing in an Antique Shop. It’s not the valuable, ostentatious items behind glass cabinets that I search for. I like to spend time looking through dusty boxes at the back of the shop. I have tried to convey in the poem the feeling of history, sadness, and nostalgia that overtake my emotions when I spend time looking at antique objects.
Teapots conjure up memories of families gathering around an old scrubbed kitchen table with the teapot right at its centre. Disputes, grief, celebration, births, and deaths would be discussed in depth over a good strong cup of tea, and oh what stories that old, chipped teapot could tell!
Medals make me feel terribly sad. The sacrifices made in order to receive these war medals should be honoured and the medals cherished. They should never end up in a dark corner of an Antique Shop with a price tag attached.
Writing Desks fascinate me. Imagine the letters, poems, possibly even books that were written on that old, rickety desk. Probably, hours were spent there pouring feelings and emotions out on to paper, Where did the love letters go? and Did the books become bestsellers?
The Antique Shop is a poem about all the imagery and emotions I feel when I visit a shop selling objects from a bygone age.
The Antique Shop
Books standing proudly wearing jackets of dust
Aroma’s of vanilla, tobacco, and musk
China teapots with chintzy bouquets
A knitted shawl that has seen better days
A lonely cup missing its friend
Brasses and tapestries gone out of trend
An oversized vase with a hairline crack
A redundant, unwanted  letter rack
A military coat with cobwebs adorned
Medals in boxes, ununiformed
A delicate teaset, Â a jug with a chip
In clumsy hands, there’s often a slip
An old violin praying to be played
Scarves with holes, handkerchiefs frayed
Plates with monarchy now in the past
Portraits of ladies looking downcast
A load of old junk? No! not to me
A sample of our countries great history
We must display the medals and cherish the pots
Owned by families of  loved ones lost
Don’t hide the heirlooms in a dusty drawer
Tell us the stories of battle and war
Don’t hide your memories in an old suitcase
Display them grandly with pride of place
So polish the silver and let the dust fly
Applaud the endurance of people gone by.
Kate Hanford
Do you like visiting Antique Shops? and what kind of objects do you look out for?
For more poems by Kate Hanford
This conjures so many wonderful memories 🙂
Ahhh, that’s lovely Walt, hope you are having a good day.
I love how your bring them to life with their longing to be used again, or appreciated. Very skilled poetry indeed!
Thank you so much for your kind words Terri.
Such an emotional post! Very much like old toys, how do they feel when being forgotten, outgrown or cast away?
I think old photographs speak to me. So many lost dreams in those forgotten smiles. Was it worth it?
Beautiful, thank you! xx
I agree toys and photographs, so sad. Thank you so much for your lovely comment (and RT on Twitter) it is most appreciated, hope you are well,take care xx