House

POSTED IN contemporary poetry July 21, 2013

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

House

In the ruined land, the house upon the hill lays waiting
I enter, look around.
The corridor stretches far ahead
Every room brimming with secret delights
I search for booty through the boxes plied high, through drawers and cupboards
Magical items everywhere; too much to carry…

The ancient ones in their faded glory watch
Tapestries fraying, gold on red
The gnawing fear, the sense of malice.

Faster I search, down gloomy corridors, through dark rooms
The flexible sword, the magical talismans

The house knows me – my quests, my thefts.
Higher and higher I go,
up winding stairs,
through great halls,
pursued by the nameless,
searching for the unnamed.

I feel the house settling, watching – I walk, I walk
Time runs short, the house moves.
Corridors twist and change…

 

Andy Turner