The house

In shuddered, soul surrendering
the house had opened wide,
to drink the dreams of open sky
and taste the fears of night.
In charred and coloured falling,
the walls had held some shape,
and in the creepered whisper,
time held it all in state.
As brick and timber weakened,
the form was drawn apart,
reduced to sundered being;
no certainty held fast.
In silhouette of dreaming,
its sadness shadowed hope
and showed the touch ephemeral
of tired and tremulous bones.
Decay bequeathed its sorrow,
and drew deep lines of loss,
yet opened heart to all that was;
displayed on death’s dark cross.

http://dversepoets.com/2012/11/03/poetics-through-the-artists-lens/#respond

 

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About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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One Response to The house

  1. hiroshimem says:

    This house is powerful, isn’t it? I really like this part:
    “its sadness shadowed hope
    and showed the touch ephemeral
    of tired and tremulous bones.”
    In all sadness there’s hope. Well, at least not far. It’s just that we sometimes chose to ignore it.

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