The Old House
If I could sit for long enough and really listen. I could hear a breath rising up through the centuries , exhaling in this moment. There is a gathering in these walls. An eisteddfod. The poet’s breath passing from father to daughter and mother to son. The old mortar crumbles, ancient grain falls out of […]
Houseboat
Houseboat I still go sailing although I now live high in the hills, far from the sea. At night as wind rises my house stirs on the swell, slips its moorings and sets sail up the shrouded valley through the scent of pines heading towards moonlit peaks.
House Beautiful
The house displays its history with pride: an outside loo arrayed with twirling spiders, an inside bathroom hemmed by fragile walls that fists could penetrate with ease, a cellar, blotched artistically with damp, a roof space inaccessible, except to apes or youthful matchstick men. He argues with himself but nothing moves, his way of life, […]
Day 26. Houses
Houses. Here’s a poem by Gerard Benson (the link will take you to his Poetry Business page, just click on the ‘The Work’ tab to see the poem): http://www.poetrybusiness.co.uk/gerard-benson Houses… of whatever kind you wish.