In two decades of decadent living I'd banished all remembrances of the past But the house that I ran from came ghosting Nudging me to go visit one last time Jack Daniels, Thaddeus IV, and I hit the road with trepidation Our trio would make do the best we could Surprisingly my brain's GPS knows the way precisely And by noon we stand before the uninhabitable old house I take a swig to boost me up and anesthetize my senses No need to get worked up over a childhood that's buried and gone But then Thaddeus IV's growling comes with cryptic urgency That sends him in a wild dash to the back of the house I hug Jack like a shield to protect my galloping heartbeat And barrell us in the direction of the barking dog But my foot catches, sends Jack rolling, and me, floundering Until crying and full of sulk I spit out the hurt from chicken-pooped dirt Risen, I gasp at the wildflowers and bees-- juvenescence etched in my mind.
They’re talking house, at dVerse
Posted by Laura Bloomsbury in Poetics at dVerse: For this Poetics Prompt I want us to be voyeurs, peeping through windows and doors of a house One that has no family connections, no memories of our own to call upon. - conjure an imaginary house of any size, any place, any age - fill it with an imaginary person/people past or present, or ghosts, or leave it empty with its history - make it literal but move into the metaphorical if you wish. If you find it hard to imagine then use a picture of a house (exterior or interior) and write an ekphrastic or select a house in your neighbourhood, or a historic place, or one from a book or film but reinvent its history, story or narrative. Once you have published your poem, add it to the Linky widget and leave a comment (see below). Then go visiting, reading and sharing your thoughts with other contributors, which is half the fun of our dVerse gatherings.
Posted by Laura Bloomsbury in Poetics
Thanks for the prompt, dVerse.
Thanks for the photo: Image by Ziggyz123 from Pixabay
Thanks for reading. I wish you miracles.
I’m a simple woman who dares to see the beauty in ordinary. I’d love to connect with you and like pen pals, I want something beautiful to blossom between us. Will you join me? Selma is my middle name. Its meaning—peaceful, complete, are euphoric affirmations I like to think of myself as having. They compliment the joy I feel when I write. I sincerely hope you decide to join me on my writing journey. I Wish You Miracles.
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I was there with you, Selma….heart in mouth.
Thanks. You bless me. I appreciate you.
You are so welcome.
“But the house that I ran from came ghosting” — what a terrific phrase!!
Hello Phillip. So glad you read and commenting. Means the world to me.
Thanks for letting me know that phrase worked for you. Glad. Be well. I wish you miracles.
Fantastic, Selma. So evocative! I enjoyed your trio’s adventure 🙂
Sunra, 💃🏼 💕 you keep me motivated. I appreciate you.
vividly told, the trip back, and down in the dirt seeing wildflowers growing up . Some lovely lines but especially liked the finale
juvenescence etched in my mind.”
Laura, 😊 💕 glad you read. A lovely prompt indeed. Thanks YOU so much. I appreciate the comment. Be well. I wish you miracles.
Glory be!!! That is one dilapidated structure …. I enjoyed reading your poem.
Indeed, Helen. dilapidated like something in her character. Hope she looks beyond what’s in front of her cause sometimes the silver lining is a fall away. 😉
I appreciate you reading and commenting. Be well, Dear Helen. xo
An inextinguishable trio, I love the adventure — and the COURAGE — to go back and meet it on its home turf. Excellent poeming, Selma.
Aww. Your comment about poeming made me grin. Thanks dearly. 😉
You’re most welcome 🙂
“But the house that I ran from came ghosting/Nudging me to go visit one last time,” .. fantastic writing, Selma! Wow! 💝💝