On the street of No Name
A broken house sits
Once it was a place of haphazard living
Now it is a place of emptiness
Reflecting on the past
The haunting image fills my mind
A smokey haze wafts through my thoughts
And there my fears rest
I am filled with the void of unanswered questions
Left open to the demons of my past
Yet still curiously peeking in the windows
Of the house on the street of No Name
Maybe someday, the name will return
Maybe perhaps it shouldn’t
Maybe today I’ll let the smokey haze continue, ignored
And instead regale myself with stories of the house on Gregory Street.
Maybe
© SKW
Thursday, December 14, 2006
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5 comments:
I love the play on words so that the house doesn't feel like a real place. And some of the lines are great - 'the void of unanswered questions. Lots of depth here, thank you.
I feel sadness that the house on the street with No Name, was never lived in well.
Is that my house? I wonder.
'Haphazard living...'- those two words alone are very telling.
Wonderful poem for today.
I'm with regina on the haphazard living. Existence is nothing when it's not haphazard (he says with a diary in his other hand). BB
I think all of our pasts are in some way broken, haunting and of emptiness. So sad, but I believe necessary so we don’t dwell there.
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