Do you know the house of lost souls ?
That's where all hearts that have traveled
far in the melancholy of illusory
death in Venice ...
When you arrive,you'll have a cup of coffee
on the serenissima square while reading
the latest news of the night to come...
A grimacing jester playing on a coffin...
and then you'll have to walk a little...
at the end of the path,there's the palace
emerging from an old childhood memory...
The old rusty gate no longer has a voice
and doesn't recognize you ...
It has seen so many craddles in mourning clothes !
The faithful guard no longer greets visitors
with a joyful bark ...
So overwhelmed by so much loneliness ,
maybe it came back to life ?
Did you know that dogs deprived of love
take on human form ?
Why did they kill the queen's little poodle ?
The door has long since lost its trebble key,
giving up all its secrets .
Confession engraved in the marble
of a musical score ...
Once you cross the threshold ,
lay down your heavy burden .
In the house of lost souls ,
hours of the clock in royal grace
Coldly welcoming the ambassador
delegated by the angels ...
On the table lies a gaze .
Not at all pleading
in the mournful beauty of renouncement !
Perhaps the eyes of the fallen princess ?
a few words of farewell
like love announcement...
Don't disturb her Milord
sh'es praying up there .
Tomorrow she will ascend the scaffold.
Will you have any regrets ?
In the house of lost souls ,
we are merely passing by ,
abandoning our burden of futility ...
And our hearts so weary
from not knowing how to love ...
writing a few lines
full of secret remorses
thrown into the rain ,
that no one will read ...
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 22nd, 2026 11:16
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments4
This poem is like a city at dusk, veiled in mist: its contours appear, but what truly matters unfolds between the lines. Its hidden currents run deeper than what is seen. Beautifully written, Lorenz.
The harlequin stands at the threshold of twilight ...
Harlequins a patched life in a patched suit. The jester rules. Good write my friend
I must also project myself in these somewhat ambiguous characters !
I must say my friend that most of us do this in our poetry at least much of the time.
I appreciate you very much .
The feeling is mutual
This was such a complex read,wonderfully written!
We are merely passing through the house of judgement.Temporay visitors burdened with our load .(Inspired by the tragic fate of Anne Boleyn )
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