Sunday, 19 November 2017

The Hallucination of Room



I’ve breathed in your dust through my eyes
smelt the waves lapping at your shore
I’ve heard the silent towers rise
felt skin part as they stabbed the skies
reflection of cranes on glass doors.


Who knows who has the right to call
your mud their bone or blood or home
and what’s that except a set of walls?
one trumpet note and that set falls,
the hallucination of room.


The hallucinations of roofs
and rooms, this nothingness enclosed
and dust breathed in without much proof;
home always, but at a remove,
conflicts, and space juxtaposed.





12 comments:

  1. I'm not sure which is cooler, this excellent poem, or the fact that I'm finally the first commenter!

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    1. Welcome to the first spot :)

      I never make the first anywhere - dunno whether it's me or the time zones or what!

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  2. Conflicts in space in time will always find a place to come face to face.

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    1. I like the internal rhymes there! Thanks for stopping by.

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  3. I had to read this a few times and I'm still thinking about it. That makes for a deep poem.

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    1. No depth intended :) I do like it when things are simple...

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  4. Echoing Joanne. And it makes my hurt ache too.

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    1. Oh I hope that's a good ache and stops soon ..short is a prerequisite for good, isn't it?

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  5. Might have to reread this a few times. I like the words and the way it sounds but I'm not 100% sure what it means.

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    1. Good looks and good sounds, that's half the job done :) Thank you for stopping by...

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  6. That bit of verse started making me feel a bit dreamy drifty. I've had this sense too--or at least what I perceived through your words. Nice effect.

    Lee
    Tossing It Out

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Nonymous comments prized more than rubies :) Anonymous comments shall be deleted as soon as spotted. Just so you know.