Monday, February 09, 2009

Dwelling

The plywood panes are testament
to how her final days were spent
withdrawn from all but her best friend
the spiteful spirit discontent;

but truthfully, did we extend
accepting arms, or did we send
the promise of discouragement
from rigid limbs too scarred to bend?

Each day the dwelling cries – REPENT!
and fuels this lachrymose lament
I fear will haunt me till the end—
the plywood panes are testament.

3 comments:

Noah the Great said...

The Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind!

Sorry, I'm currently obsessed again with the London cast.

I liked the poem, though.

Shirley said...

I don't know which use is more powerful... the noun or the verb but they both serve to get your point across.

rch said...

thanks Noah, you may be right ;)

hi Shirley, good that was my intention