deepundergroundpoetry.com
This Place
This derelict mansion
My soul
And its worn fine embroidered
Green silk and
Once charming blinds
In tatters
Tatters I tell you
What say you
You and I
Hunt forgotten treasure
Here,
In long winding
Once bourgeoisie
Halls
Red carpeted halls
Of misdirection
Hunt treasure here
Perhaps pearls were once
Unstrung suddenly
As rough hand
Skipped its catch
And the beauty of pearls
Slipped and had scattered
Just rolled off and away from
Her smile
Just rolled away
And a tear
Like crystalline
Of little self
Was all there could be left
To shine him away
Derelict mansion
Of soul
Of little self
And forgotten treasure
Torments
Like howling caving walls
And floors sinking in
Like memories
Of torrential
Musty moisture
Grow into them
And show like dark faces
In screaming silence
Show like howling emblem
Mid seething anthem
To a shabby state
My soul
And its worn fine embroidered
Green silk and
Once charming blinds
In tatters
Tatters I tell you
What say you
You and I
Hunt forgotten treasure
Here,
In long winding
Once bourgeoisie
Halls
Red carpeted halls
Of misdirection
Hunt treasure here
Perhaps pearls were once
Unstrung suddenly
As rough hand
Skipped its catch
And the beauty of pearls
Slipped and had scattered
Just rolled off and away from
Her smile
Just rolled away
And a tear
Like crystalline
Of little self
Was all there could be left
To shine him away
Derelict mansion
Of soul
Of little self
And forgotten treasure
Torments
Like howling caving walls
And floors sinking in
Like memories
Of torrential
Musty moisture
Grow into them
And show like dark faces
In screaming silence
Show like howling emblem
Mid seething anthem
To a shabby state
Published 20th Jul 2020
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likes 11
reading list entries 6
comments 9
reads 505
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The author encourages honest critique.
20th Jul 2020 6:54pm
20th Jul 2020 7:11pm
Anonymous
- Edited 20th May 2021 3:45pm
20th Jul 2020 9:15pm
<< post removed >>
20th Jul 2020 9:50pm
21st Jul 2020 3:12am
Dear J,
Beautiful poem. The whole while I read this I couldn’t help but think of losing myself to love, jobs I’ve hated, time spent being someone I’m not so I could be “loved” by someone who really didn’t care. Just like “Derelict mansion
Of soul
Of little self ”. Your poem hits so many nerve endings of self reflection and thankfully, growth, in such a lovely manner. H🌷
Beautiful poem. The whole while I read this I couldn’t help but think of losing myself to love, jobs I’ve hated, time spent being someone I’m not so I could be “loved” by someone who really didn’t care. Just like “Derelict mansion
Of soul
Of little self ”. Your poem hits so many nerve endings of self reflection and thankfully, growth, in such a lovely manner. H🌷
I love the way you mingle words uniquely into complex feelings!💎💖👏😎
It ain’t easy feeling derelict. Bless your mansion an all it’s treasure.
It ain’t easy feeling derelict. Bless your mansion an all it’s treasure.
21st Jul 2020 9:42pm
There seems a healthy current of pathos throughout it's details and imagery. A journey of soul searching, back through the corridors of time, opening with the strong image of the derelict mansion, and the term mansion makes me think of Christ in the bible, saying that his father's house has many mansions. I always found that an odd thing to image, a great house, with mansions within, and it gave the entire universe this sense of cloister about it, crafted walls within crafted walls, everything designed and with boundaries. Surely a misunderstanding of a mistranslation, but there you have it. The pearls rolling away from your smile are a strong image of delicate connotation, perhaps a metaphor of innocence lost to violence. Been thinking about your close for a while now. All that goes unsaid, that screams within, perhaps, how difficult clear communication is, with how lost in ourselves we all are. I read something the other day that said, We're alone, surrounded by others that are alone. I think that is probably at the truth of being and the expressions of artistry. The emotion throughout this is tangible sugah.
23rd Jul 2020 3:49am
And the forgotten treasure of the beauty of pearls ,
words woven as a necklace of language spoken and
written after thoughts , retained , and released , and
unbidden , crying aloud , a message of voice quelled
in terminity of time and space in the exclusionary
reclusionary universe...
Well done , my friend...
words woven as a necklace of language spoken and
written after thoughts , retained , and released , and
unbidden , crying aloud , a message of voice quelled
in terminity of time and space in the exclusionary
reclusionary universe...
Well done , my friend...
Even in the dark realm of poetry, you shine. This is a deeply felt and magnificent poem of melancholic yet filled with the hope of the treasure that lies within.
XoXoXo
John
XoXoXo
John
