I wake up to a harsh yellow which flicks my eyes,
Wait for a minute or maybe ten to-
The window, it’s been the same for over eighty years.
I can’t say the same for the other side,
This city, exhausted from the years like myself.
Old, decrepit, hollowed.
The mail has arrived with a pleasant thud
And the crow caws on the lawn as
The TV echoes through the hall along with
The daylight that crawls as fast as I
Stare from my chair, it swallows the light patiently,
My glass of water now empty.
For years I have waited for my time draws near.
Enduring I have been, for I have nothing left to fulfill.
My days are as lonely as the winters are long
This has left me cold.
I know, I will not live forever and this house will be occupied
By strangers in my halls, my kitchen, my garage, my yard,
And they will talk numbers as if the past eighty years, never existed.
But oh my yard
The trees, they spoke to me, waved like known acquaintances,
They cheered as I ran through them.
To the end of the world, my fence,
I traveled far and wide before it was my time to come in.
My garage, my first car.
The free road, my time to roam,ever further then the end of the world.
It always led me back to home.
My room, once alone, then occupied by my soul mate, my other half.
Changes were made but the walls are still intact.
We grew together, woven, molded like the mortar,
That holds my home together-
It stands strong but now empty.
My kitchen where conversations
Were cooked and sometimes boiled and burnt.
Tears and laughs sat here and left,
But this table remained a foundation
As strong as those trees that swayed,
And the house that stands,
And my heart which still beats strong
I am alive.
My home, oh my home
I can hear it whisper my name,
And it tells me to not worry about fading away,
That I will forever be a part of
The walls, the floors, the foundations, and soil underneath.
And when I rise for one last time,
I will know; I'm home.
By Jarrod Curtis
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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This is kind of hard to follow for me, the first stanza I think is the weakest but the second to last is the strongest, I also like the last two lines. They really add to the poem and tie it all together. Congratulations and thank you for entering in my contest.
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Wow, this was really amazing..... I wish I had read it before entering my poem, they are really similar, I apologize for that, but yours just has this incredible style to it, and great control over where you wanted it to go. And something very few people take advantage of like you did, personification. Masterful at that. Great write.
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This was a wonderful write. Very descriptive imagery in this piece. It painted a picture for the reader and also had a feeling of happiness to it. I liked the ending the best. It seemed to have a feeling of peace, like if people try their best to do everything they want to do in life and to appreciate every day that they have, they can be happy and pass on without any regrets. Thanks for sharing and best of luck in the contest.
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"The trees, they spoke to me, waved like known acquaintances,
They cheered as I ran through them.
To the end of the world, my fence,
I traveled far and wide before it was my time to come in."
nice work my dear. thank you for sharing this with me
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I loved this poem, descriptive ...
and detailed and so real. The character's name, Clayman, in metaphor, connected to mortal man; and unfolding in the write, the things of mortal value, yet sweet sentiments of remembrance, tainted with glimpses of melancholy. Exactly as old people do: assessing their past, recalling the rain and the sunshine, the small touches of love and care, and growing part of the walls and the windows, the garden and the fence: the latter a shield against the outside world.
Yes. Rooms recall whispers, shouts, laughter, cries. And he wrote his last words. And the words found, were those not written down, but those found in the happiness on his face. Contentedness is the smoothest exit imaginable.
Bravo!
Love
Myra
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thanks for the comment.... This week in my poetry class I was assigned a long poem (something I never write) and it had to be about someone besides yourself. So I chose a neighbor I once knew, who had no family but always seemed bright when I spoke with him. I tried to imagine what his days are like. Glad you like this piece and saw well into it!!
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