The shutters creak
the gutters reek
as shingles fall
right off the peak,
the grass is sere
a crass veneer
assaults the eye
of all who peer,
the panes are glazed
the paint is crazed—
a wreck that begs
to just be razed.
Are You Reading Me?
Are You Reading Me?
Yes, but the Historical Society in my town will fight to save it as they love old urban blight. There was actually an old house one of our departments occupied for a while that was around 100 years old. The outside had been recovered in the 50's or early 60's in this ugly cradboard type siding (the best I can describe it). Beneath were the beautiful origional slatboard siding but the Historical Society wouldn't alow us to reveal it beacuse the shit siding was also historical. Go figure.
ReplyDeleteI guess the value or lack thereof depends on whether you're living on the inside or living with the outside! You have a great talent for making us analyze everyday things.
ReplyDeleteHEh I hope this was your house and not your temple! Either way I'm not put off and love you still ;-)
ReplyDeleteGlenn
Ya gotta love the rulemakers oz.
ReplyDeleteWell I really appreciate that Shirley, but what else would an average poet write about?
Ah Glenn, you have gone beyond the literal as usual my friend. I know I'm getting older but I don't think my appearance is that repulsive yet (I hope) - right back at ya! lol
Do you think I should just take your poems literally? If so I will in future :-)
ReplyDeleteCheers
Glenn
Ah, but isn't that the rich beauty of this poetry, written by our host, it can be surmized in the literal and figurative.
ReplyDelete