The scaffolding outside
rattles in the wind,
its joints recollecting
the weight of workers.
On my desk—
a stack of receipts,
ink already fading,
edges curled like tired hands.
The room is empty,
but the residue of voices
still leans against the walls.
.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 24th, 2025 05:48
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 100
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Friendship
Offline)
Comments8
There is a loneliness and melancholy feel to this poem as if a hollowness was echoing a distant message from the past.
Thanks Soren... like the quintessential wearied urbanite. But not saying it doesn't happen in more pastoral settings. The world is such a rush these days anyway. Thanks again, Rik.🙏🕊️
Always a pleasure my friend I would have to agree with you.
very good write friend
Many thanks dear friend 🙏🕊️
most welcome
My friend, haunting in its restraint…the scaffolding, the receipts, the ghost of conversation...all leaning together like memory itself. Beautifully done. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Perhaps this is kind of a spin off from a dark poetry project that I have been working on. We used to be chased by personal demons but now it seems like we are being chased by digital harpies! Thanks, Tittu 🙏🕊️
Truth, my friend! You are most welcome!
I really enjoy this poem written from your heart. The poem revolves around the remnants of work and the emotional and physical traces left behind in a space that is now empty. It explores themes of labor, memory, and the passage of time, focusing on how the physical environment retains echoes of human presence and activity. The subject matter includes the metaphorical and literal "residue" of workdays—represented by the scaffolding, receipts, and voices—highlighting the relationship between individuals and their labor.
And they fruit of their labour they shall sup and be satisfied... if only. Thank you dear Friendship. 🙏🕊️
A fine write. When I read Scaffolding, I was thinking of the ' Gallows'. and the Weight of it's Victims. Enjoyed.
Nice pick up and extension on that one, Kevin. Quite suitable indeed. A true joy. 🙏🕊️
It felt like a fading memory, just as it would float by, Rik.
(For me they've been fading for now at least a quarter of my lifetime...)
I am writing partly so help journalise such fading memories. They are gone too quickly. Thanks Dave. 🕊️🙏
Those voices are still there Rik.
Andy
Yes they are. Thanks, Andy🙏🏻🕊️
a sad and haunting poem - hope it is just one of its kind - am accustomed to more cheer from here....
I hear you safina. My natural bent allows me to wallow in some darkness. But I try to kerb that. Thanks so much for giving this your time and consideration.
Christmas is coming - it's so very near
i hope it Brings in lots 0f cheer :....
yes - i too get these feelings of helplessness and frustration, but i hope you, as well as i, can overcome and stay positive...
have a great month end...
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.