deepundergroundpoetry.com
Mud Brick House
When snow collects colours
Failing in reflections
Churned under foot
By drudging grind
To take grey
As final palette
Take this sludge as
Mortar for your concerns
With it, Rebuild your walls
Encased in warmth
Bricks built with foreign accents
Fired with Australian sunshine
For while the darkness drapes you
Another delights in radiant warmth
To savour the sensation
Of a celestial smiling face
To stare down at you
When next you awake
Failing in reflections
Churned under foot
By drudging grind
To take grey
As final palette
Take this sludge as
Mortar for your concerns
With it, Rebuild your walls
Encased in warmth
Bricks built with foreign accents
Fired with Australian sunshine
For while the darkness drapes you
Another delights in radiant warmth
To savour the sensation
Of a celestial smiling face
To stare down at you
When next you awake
Published 3rd Feb 2015
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The author encourages honest critique.
Anonymous
3rd Feb 2015 12:03pm
it is a fine thing
to think of rebuilding me
from the sludge of hurt
to think of rebuilding me
from the sludge of hurt
5th Feb 2015 8:47pm
bones blood nerves and cells
bricks of life, but i can tell
that you need a hug
bricks of life, but i can tell
that you need a hug
3rd Feb 2015 12:28pm
5th Feb 2015 8:47pm
Thank-you Sammy, I tend to try and walk on the lighter side of things most of the time, and wherever possible share that sunshine!
3rd Feb 2015 4:37pm
I could always use a celestial smiling face. Better than the terrifying visage I see when I look in the mirror. Fine work, Frank.
5th Feb 2015 8:48pm
We are our own worst critics Crowfly, I doubt your visage is that terrifying - remember that beauty is truly in the eye of the tiger!
Anonymous
3rd Feb 2015 9:05pm
<< post removed >>
5th Feb 2015 8:50pm
Thank you Gabriel - we don't get snow down here in South Australia, so I had to work on imagination with this one, but I do vaguely recall being a little disappointed with snow collected on the side of the road - when we visited the snow fields in Tasmania in my youth - and seeing that pure white glory churned to dull non-reflective grey and black.
