the summer sun
fills up the empty house
for no one's pleasure;
each day the same as before
the same as tomorrow
blacks holes for windows
tilting porches and worn paint
the flying dust
spiraling into ghosts
of decades past
it groans and creaks
and settles into dust
the decaying house
its cries ignored
its past forgotten
Modern English Tanka, July 2009
6 comments:
empty dreams -
tug at the desolate
washed up
from angry ocean spheres
where waves throttled mayhem
much love...
Thank you, Gillena, for your poetic response. So much sorrow in this world.
Adelaide
A bitter=sweet sequence, Adelaide.I like a lot...
Thank you, Frank. It's sad to see these abandoned buildings- houses, farms, stores... Someone's dream and livlihood gone.
Adelaide
Strongly empathetic.
Thank you, Bill.
Adelaide
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