We are lost.
I point with uncertain finger,
among the geography of a house
that no longer exists.
Trying to re-open the cellar door,
spooning down thin soup,
from a steaming tureen
placed on a side board.
Gazing at the ghosts of pictures,
that leave little meaning.
The spirits of long ago voices
rise beyond the back yard wall,
secure as castles wreathed in mists,
that vanished yet were always missed
4 Nov 10
Rated 9.5 (9.5) by 2 users.
Inactive (0): 9, 10
(define the words in this poem)
(902 more poems by this author)
Add A Comment:
i prefered the 1st stanza to the 2nd, especially lines 6 - 8. i think it ends rather weakly, and in my opinion, line 14 and 15 are your weakest.
still, some good images.
I love L16.
But the first 8 lines are gorgeous writing.
*I point with uncertain finger
It is known that money makes people autonomous. But what to do when one does not have money? The only one way is to try to get the loans and secured loan.
lost in larry larkism is a good thing to me.
I have omitted those two lines on your advice and will leave it to see how it feels now for a day or so...thanks as always for your help
It was easy for me to write that line mandolyn as my head frequently feels like a castle wreathed in mist and the fog shows no sign of clearing
Larry pea souper lark
I hope you can find me because i am lost to myself
Larry compass and map Lark
It suites me fine unknown
design & code copyright donald tetto
. all poems copyright their original authors.