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House Noises this house creaks and speaks it's dark and unknown silent critiques me, anew as I have moved recently in; not yet approved this larger body adapted and adopted it's innards painted and co-opted kneeling at the foot of this mountain stealing water from this fountain rivers flowing beside I feel it's well-established pride windows to see, a peak to shed snow and sun, light upon the head every other day I would contemplate the warmth of the sheets and my fate in these times I feel best and poised but in this new house and learning it's noise a blank stare at the ceiling ancient wallpapers, away, peeling from this mistaken heart of fear you and your noises far and near I once knew a king and his horse they went everywhere and of course were widely respected hallway and kitchen rigorously inspected on many of several other days I lay and calmly pass away the times I would never forget in and on the side of my head trains passing children after classing birds or snowfall? rain or wood fall? all my ruffled sheets are implying threats all I had thoughts of before were the number of threads and the qualities of who I would between meet with grunting and smiles I would use to greet and now I lay, a tiny cushion hurts my back and neck, the military call it a rack still, I am sleeping better now and I have a calm, peace, and how I am not sure about these houses and their sonic mouses and terrible groans absent are the familiar drones and while I sleep windowed eyes fixed on far off sky you make not a peep steadily comforting a wind on high my home, my castle, my keep cards to me chest nigh to you, now, I bow, deep. and now I see such a beauty and I feel free outside me, inside me as you are beside me a creaky headboard I turn toward with smile toothy bright and say good night |
Additional Notes:
Hello again TPL. It's been three years and I am no longer living in an ashram, have a half-Indian girlfriend who lives in Canada, and I am happier than I have ever been in my life. This poem is about my movements recently between the ashram and this new place, Shinneyboo Creek Cabin Resort I am now living in- and it's also about moving myself into the mindset and feeling place of being in a really conscious relationship. The creaks and echoes one hears of the person's past life and your own playing out and burned away by the intimacy of what I feel is a real love. The love itself is a house, protective in the way of houses and with windows and doors that focus the view in many ways modified by our past experiences. So it's a double meaning in many ways.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Marcus J On Date: 2008-05-07 21:31:13
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.61538
At first, I was turned off by a singsong rhyming scheme, but then an erratic pattern emerged and the piece actually flowed well. This poem is chocked full of vivid remembrances and wonderful analogies. I love the thought of “Stealing water from a fountain.†I also love the personification of the house itself – how it has to adapt to your moving in and vice-versa with your “learning (its) noises.â€
I stumbled just a little with the line, “in and on the side of my head†– I’m not sure if the word “on†is exactly what you meant. If you’re trying to convey “hearing†or sense thereof then I believe “out†works better. At least this is what I kept interjecting with my reread. Of course, my fountain may be too deep :)
Thanks for sharing, Regis. And now I’m going to read your other poem for a fourth time and begin with an apology.
Mark M