The rotting lace
In broken window gasps
To catch its breath
Its memory stretch
Deserted, desolate
Eyes to world
Once stood proud
Now bitter spurns.
The life that lives
Beyond empty rooms
Broken furniture
Rusted tools
Left by those
Now far away
Unanswered letters
Lonely day.
The stubborn face
Of an uneven door
Crooked silent
Eyes to floor
Unproud and restless
As night to drown
Its broken heart
Its deathbed shroud.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: September 18th, 2026 02:20
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 66
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Friendship, arqios, Tristan Robert Lange, DLewis88
Offline)
Comments5
Good write N.
You would have time to answer those letters but you been waiting so long at that bus stop. lol.
Exactly, its a full time job including overtime waiting for no 7 lol
The use of careful and subtle rhyme and near rhyme combines with a heart like beat to the meter and together with images weave into this poem a feel of deterioration and a type of last gasp. This feels haunted as of one searching for a lost and dead love where dust and rust covers all. It pulls one along through a cold and stark land of metaphor. Very nicely done Norman and a fave.
thanking you always much appreciated my friend
My pleasure Norman
Well done
thanks, much appreciated
We used to correspond like it was a daily staple. Now things have changed. 🙏🏻🕊️
the dying art of the letter, many thanks
Most welcome, friend 🙏🏻👍🏻🕊️
That old house feels like it has a whole ghost story behind it, Norman. Fantastic write, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
most kind, appreciation and thanks my friend
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