Brick Dust

Posted: July 3, 2012 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , ,

chevron floor tiles

sequenced across the room

that once belonged to someone,

light was endorsed

by windows on the edge

giving view

of a street below

cluttered with cars and people

moving to their own music,

laid out on chevrons

a cloth and candelabra

with waxen melt suspended

from the lip,

knives and forks crossed on

sauce stained plate,

a picnic

last supper,

they say rooms remember

as well as people,

this room would,

beneath magnolia wood chip

paper was green and gold

stripes with date and names

pencilled underneath,

and the new owner would decorate

alter colors and fabric,

yet their voices would

echo dull

as each wall captured the notes

clasped them tight,

muffling not allowing

new voices or new sounds

not allowing new voices or sounds,

needing the previous owners to

return,

pipes rumbled,

electrics flickered,

synaptic responses

from the house that wanted

that family back,

despite new paper and painted doors

it began to look dishevelled,

abandoned,

the house had been left and sadness

crept in.

 

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Comments
  1. claudia says:

    i much like how you give that house a personality…bukowski has a poem about a house as well..shame that i don’t remember the title.. yeah..i can really feel the sadness of this house..

  2. aka_andrea says:

    “they say rooms remember”, love that!

  3. ManicDdaily says:

    A very haunting poem – really well done. k.

  4. brian miller says:

    synaptic responses

    from the house that wanted

    that family back

    really wicked personification of the house man and the sadness that can fill one once a family has gone…it is interesting to think of its sadness…really well done…

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