I sit in the still of my house, low and somber,
all wishing for witching and time machine lumber,
my promises baking like pies in the fire,
a crayon-soaked clamp round my neck like a wire.
A small steady whisper keeps saying its lines,
“I know you are sorry, but really its fine.”
There Childhood and Innocence leer from the rafters,
and choke on the smoke of their recent disasters,
and reel from the paper weight of written words,
and never stop squeaking like smoldering birds.
I watch as they wriggle in subdued despair,
I watch as they point devilishly at air.
I stumble while seated and stutter while silent,
the cries of the birds rise, soulful and triumphant,
I lay down in decadence, which I ignore,
the beat of their wings echoes down to the floor.
I simper and whine like a dog put outside,
the Haunts grow much longer, and stronger, and wide,
I see or hear naught but their song like a flutter,
I bury myself in the bedding like butter.
The cushions are soft here, the food never ends,
I’ve time for my mind to sigh, wrecked on a bend;
these Ghouls which you send me are holy and just,
the way you work through my pain which,
dear, you must.
I like the serious weight to the lyrical rhyme.
Sufiiiiiiii:
“I’ve time for my mind to sigh, wrecked on a bend;
these Ghouls which you send me are holy and just,
the way you work through my pain which,
dear, you must.”
is it a curse or a blessing?…You can touch everybody’s hearts and seems to mend them all…Who collects your pieces?
The stars collect them…I’ve missed you.
Okay. So I could begin to quote lines that jump out at me. But then again, I’d quote half the poem. This is, as you can be and are, brilliant, my dear. Simply that.
You are too sweet to me, as always. Thank you.
Simply the truth, as I know it 😉
I have the lumber, but not the skills
Oh, I’d imagine you do, built into your poetry upside down and backwards somewhere.
I really like this. I got scared when I saw the rhyming scheme but you exhibited great mastery over it and it did not impose any limitations on the wonderful poetry.
thank you! I know and understand that fear, so I appreciate this comment greatly : )
“I stumble while seated and stutter while silent.”
Oh. ❤
I’ve missed seeing you, dearness.