Saturday, December 29, 2007

The front door protests my arrival.
The whole house sags and nearly bleeds
when ever I am home.
The walls lean inward.
The floors have hardened.

Someday I will climb up and sit upon
the roof and watch it crumble.
From beneath a dusty pile of cement
and drywall, I will rest my head and sleep.

7 comments:

S. Thomas Summers said...

a poem of both defeat and victory!! enjoyed its simple language. its concise edge.

writerwoman said...

Happy New Years!

From Poets Who Blog.

writerwoman said...

Someday I will climb up and sit upon
the roof and watch it crumble.

Love that! It feels like the secrets thoughts of every unhappy trapped person in the world.

writerwoman said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
janetleigh said...

The poem opens with a strong line and I can clearly see the condition of the house and the writer's heart. But I love the 2nd stanza. I love the absurdness of sitting on a roof as it crumbles, Brian. The last 2 lines has me thinking that the writer will only feel peace when its contents are destroyed. I'm left with the feeling the writer is burning his bridges; excising all that he once associated with a loving home. I noticed the writer chose the word "house" over "home".

You say a whole lot in few words; something you do extremely well..:)

Anna said...

It conveys the emotion and the scene so perfectly and makes me smile involunarily as usual.

writerwoman said...

The whole house sags and nearly bleeds
when ever I am home.


Love what you did with personfication in those lines.