I almost staggered at the entrance.
Burnt tar and some spread rubbish,
This pavement hosted all.
The beggar against the wall,
Bushy eyebrows and fierce toenails,
And eyes that scream,
Ever so silently in despair.
You're bound to find one everywhere.
But here, in this ancient house,
Memory is the trend of the air.
Some wild tonic in the afternoon rain,
Death of hope and numbness in my brain.
The house that I loved before,
Stands like a grotesque rose.
A black daffodil,
Or a myrtle slipped of all the scent.
The ghosts that lurk here,
Are older than time...
Somewhere upstairs, a clock chimes.
The shadow of a song that was sung,
Once when I was four,
Some invented nursery rhyme.
It clings to my ear and refuses to let go.
I climb the stairs,
My deep shadows on the wall,
And though the mystic light enlarged my body,
And my belly was dancing back and forth,
I felt so impossibly small.
And I embraced this living tomb,
The womb from which my soul was born.
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All comments appreciated...

Talented mashallah nice work Threadlike :flower:

Thanks Charm, glad you liked it :cute:

I really like the way you describe things.. the words you use..great! :cute:
But I think the flow of the poem kept getting interrupted..
Apart from that, I quite enjoyed reading it :cute:
Keep writing! :p

I always get amazed by your poetry ...This poem falls whith all music from scary, sad, funny

Thanks Twinkle and Nasra...Glad you guys liked it :)

Thready!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:hyper:
Where 'ave yeh been buddy?!:bored:
Thre literature sabla is SO dead with 3T n U busy:(
It's nice to see yer words echoing in this sabla.
As for the poem, I just love how the writer is grieving on his old place;)