Stamp Collecting Poetry

Brought a tear to my loupe.

https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stamp-collector/

Very good!

Peter

Philatelic dreams
A Z-grill on ancient leaves
Or two-cent on laid

I'd like to order a slightly more upbeat take on stamps.

Interesting read.

That was quite good, me thinks.

I have a large run of old, bound stamp publications, such as Mekeel's, Gossip, etc. Philatelic poetry used to be appear often in those. Some of it was awful, but always interesting.

Here's one I wrote

The Humble Stamp

I lay with friends, we stick together
Our patterns showing bright
To young and old we give great pleasure
And others pure delight

We have a value printed clear
Though true worth much higher still
A designer worked his magic art
producing with great skill

But what's this? A heavy hand
tears at the fibre of my being
He rips me from my friends so close
Does he have no feeling?

Oh no, it cannot be!
As he draws me to his mouth
I choke on smoke-filled smelly breath
As he licks from north to south

Then fat thumb it squashes flat
All care is gone without a trace
He raises high his manly fist
And thumps me in the face

Oh how I wish I's born a rose
Or perhaps a jewel so rare
I'd be carefully handled then
Unlike I've suffered from this bear

I sit a while recovering
Then taken for a ride
One last look he takes and then
It's through the slot I slide

Gosh, it's dark in here
And it's awfully cold
I feel so lost and so alone
I've a need to be consoled


Then from the blackness comes a voice
"Oh so you're here too!"
My heart it warms as I realise
I'd joined up with the crew

The postman came with little van
And rushed us to and fro
Some of us on aeroplanes
While others travelled slow

A pair of us arrived that day
At a box in far off Street
One was from America
And we sat there nice and neat

In came the hands and pulled us out
From the place of our repose
And opened up the envelope
The contents to expose

We wondered what would be our fate
Could we be tossed aside?
When each were lifted and examined
And then his eyes grew wide

I saw he cared, yes, valued too
He removed the sticky glue
Washed me clean it felt so good
I was so lucky, true

To be so fortunate I knew
For nothing would I lack
I would reveal my secret rare
For I was a penny black

Written by Allen Teal (NZ)
November 2016 ©

Bravo!

Roses at red
Violets are blue
I'm addicted to stamps
And so are you!


Burma Shave