When you build your home,
carpenter apprenticed, from
its walls to roof, from
the carpets to its paint
carefully selected
(you might think),
carpenter apprenticed, from
its walls to roof, from
the carpets to its paint
carefully selected
(you might think),
and afterwards you invite
some friends for barbecue, and
you’re sitting on your porch
clinging to a lukewarm bottle
silenced from what’s done.
some friends for barbecue, and
you’re sitting on your porch
clinging to a lukewarm bottle
silenced from what’s done.
There is a hollow formed inside
an emptiness (a craving)
much like the poet’s empty
notebook begs for ink…
and you wonder (looking at the stars)
if you’ve built your house or if
it is the house creating you.
an emptiness (a craving)
much like the poet’s empty
notebook begs for ink…
and you wonder (looking at the stars)
if you’ve built your house or if
it is the house creating you.
"much like the poet’s empty
ReplyDeletenotebook begs for ink…"
I love the questions this poem poses. Do we create our reality or does our reality create us?
poet’s empty
ReplyDeletenotebook begs for ink… loved these lines. Good job
This blog is begging you for some new haiku, as am I.
ReplyDeleteI think that is often the question.
ReplyDeleteThe question is valid ... we or the house? who creates who? Very beautifully said.
ReplyDeletehttp://livinglifegreenspeck.blogspot.in/