gathering dusk
i leave the old toys
at the thrift shop

Published by

Jennifer Hambrick

A four-time Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee, Jennifer Hambrick won the 2020 Sheila-Na-Gig Pres Poetry Prize, won First Place in the 2018 Haiku Society of America's Haibun Award Competition, won First Place in the 2021 Martin Lucas Haiku Competition, and authored the collections In the High Weeds, winner of the Stevens Manuscript Award from the National Federation of State Poetry Societies; Joyride (Red Moon Press), winner of the Marianne Bluger Book Award from Haiku Canada; and Unscathed (NightBallet Press). She has won numerous other awards for her work, which has been published in The Columbia Review, The American Journal of Poetry, The Santa Clara Review, Maryland Literary Review, POEM, the Red Moon Press haiku and contemporary haibun anthologies, Modern Haiku Press’ Haiku 20xx anthologies of “Notable Ku,” Modern Haiku, The Heron’s Nest, Mayfly, Frogpond, Contemporary Haibun Online, and in dozens of other journals and invited anthologies worldwide. A classical musician and public radio broadcaster and multimedia producer, Jennifer Hambrick lives in Columbus.

14 thoughts on “”

  1. Evocative and open to lots of reflection and possible meanings from the reader. Nice work, thanks for sharing!

  2. __ Ah… the old, that is today: bicyles then, in some places, were called a tin horse. _m

    attic cobwebs
    grip this shelf of aged toys
    a tin horse

    1. Thank you so much, Marion. As I wrote in response to an earlier comment, there is something so sorrowful about old toys. Toys should be young and youthful – and they remain so, but we grow up and have to move on and leave them behind, these friends who, when we were children, were always with us and brought us such joy and companionship. The sorrow is that we must abandon them and in doing so, must acknowledge that some part of ourselves is no longer. Thank you for your comment.

  3. It's so often a wrench to part with old toys. It's like leaving childhood behind. I still have my old Ted, decades old, and would never part with him.

    my old Ted sits there
    button-eyes and love-kissed nose
    contemplating life

Your response: