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A Room Without Dreams.
Contributed by
cashfan1
on
Friday, 28th May 2010 @ 06:45:40 AM in AEST
Topic:
Lifepoems
|
This house is like all the others,
Bland in their regimented row.
And here I am again standing outside the bay windows,
The frosty hand of winter chill on my cheeks,
The air dank with coal smoke and traffic fumes.
Inside my father is attacking the hot coals of the open fire,
With a long brass poker thrusting deep into it's heart,
Half lifting and beating the coals in a fever of frustration.
At last, the job done, he sinks into the sagging armchair,
It's headrest and arms smudged grey from too much brylcream
And yellow from the smoke of his favourite briar.
On the sofa opposite my mother sits, bird like and silent,
Hands clasped in her lap, her eyes flat and uninterested
In this room of miserable shadows left hanging by the flex and forty watt bulb.
And all the while she stares at my father with eyes unfocused
And a face left piched and sad by the passing years.
In this room without TV or radio, the turning of the pages of my fathers newspaper
Is sharp and shocking but welcome none the less.
He checks the time with his pocket watch
Then stands with his back to the fire, crosses himself, crosses the room,
Opens then slams the door shut and my mother stirs, crouching before the warming fire.
Then returns to her seat and falls asleep in this sterile room without dreams.
Copyright ©
cashfan1
... [
2010-05-28 06:45:40]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: A Room Without Dreams.
(User Rating: 1 )
by Tory on
Friday, 28th May 2010 @ 11:17:22 AM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
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| It is so sad to have a bad childhood. my past was similar to what you say. my father is still living. I really could feel all of your hurt and pain. every heartache, every tear you cried as you were writing this. very good... |
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Re: A Room Without Dreams.
(User Rating: 1 )
by laststarontheleft on
Sunday, 30th May 2010 @ 02:51:02 AM AEST
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a Message)
|
Hey Cash!
They way you have written this is great. Not only packed with memories,
but the chilling notion that you yourself are trapped on the outside of the glass, peering in helplessly to a world of lost love and hope.
I cannot help but hear you screaming inside, and banging your fists against the window
dying to be heard, to have a comforting home and loving family to belong to and guide you.
Powerful writing, very well executed x
Luv Star x x x |
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Re: A Room Without Dreams.
(User Rating: 1 )
by elle on
Thursday, 3rd June 2010 @ 08:34:45 AM AEST
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a Message)
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| This succinct slice of observance struck me as so forlorn yet morose as well. Pardon my saying, but it spills as if out of a Hitchcock film intro. Where we could go from there. . . (?). . . oh, the myriad overtones. Well, the sad truth is that we all carry the residue of our childhoods, that being a negative connotation for those of us who could have thrived in healthier, lively, more loving atmospheres. My personal belief is that we all do the best we can, for who we are, at any given time in our lives, (our parents or care~givers, included). As for the lucky ones, who hold true treasures from childhood, of memory, experiences & loving relationships, I persuade you to pass these on & share your wealth. . . for you are truly blessed. Nicely done. elle :) |
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Re: A Room Without Dreams.
(User Rating: 1 )
by Invierno on
Monday, 17th April 2017 @ 07:55:03 AM AEST
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a Message)
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Fabulous. A+ on mood evocation.
Reads less like a poem and more like a few paragraphs of a Theodore Dreiser story. (not a criticism; an observation).
Do you write any short stories? If so, I would be interested in reading them.
Invierno |
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