Back room

In the back room of your life,
that bitter nursery of strife,
do fragile hopes and shattered dreams
like potted plants sit yellow green.

Leaves seen too little sun
dry roots twist, yearn to run,
long to delve within the soil
to let sweet possibility uncoil.

Do you still keep me there
tarnished photograph, broken chair,
do you rearrange me, set me straight,
poke at coals on a cold grate.

Are the shutters still nailed tight
drapes drawn fast to keep out light.
From the corners deeping gloom,
does moulds' fetid scent still bloom.

Has this mote now grown to be
malignant, cancered, reality.

About This Poem

About the Author

Country/Region: AUS

Comments

Cloudthings

17 years ago

Loving your work here, am looking forward to more

Ouch, this is a really great write Craig, hard hitting & emotively scouring, well done. It conjures terrible shames & sadness, shadows that haunt & pool which one tries to evade, but cannot, & makes me want to take that brilliant broom & shovel of yours & sweep my life afresh (though I admit that's what I have been doing a little). In truth I doubt anyone could banish you to a mouldy back room to be forgotten, you are too shiny country boy, you lay low in the autumn leaves, then one shift of the breeze & there is that smile, irrepressable & undeniable, infectious & magnetic. No you demand space unto yourself, no other thing could sit too close either I suspect the magnet in you would repel them comically... whilst you chuckle no doubt! Loving your work here, am looking forward to more when I get back. The magpies warble here as evening aproaches, I wonder how your bunnies are up there (poetry ref, for anyone who doesn't know) Anni ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "...We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? ... Your playing small doesn't serve the world..."

Craig Norris

17 years ago

Thanks Anni

Yes this is about those back rooms that I guess we all at some stage have put things away in. Let the sun shine in I say. I've been too busy to tend to those pesky rabbits, but their day is coming, have a good time in the city, say hello for me. Craig

Cloudthings

17 years ago

thought I had caught up, but I didn't noticed this one, sorry

Hi, I only just got to the backlogue here after being away & thought I had caught up, but I didn't noticed this one, sorry. I admit to being a little confused about the city comment or whom I should be saying hello to (did you think I was doing some LE stuff?) I did go away but to the beautiful Grampians, not far from Hamilton (you may have sped your glorious Rosey machine through there, Dunkeld to be exact, lovely, sweet, quiet, and country roads all the way)... Oh, I did go to town to support a friend who went into hospital, but just for one day, was also the green side though, bush really barely even suburbs, Eltham way... probably means little to you. Hope you are thriving Craig. Be well. xx Anni ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "...We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? ... Your playing small doesn't serve the world..."

Arrow

17 years ago

Nothing much to suggest here.

*There are some technical errors: In the back room of your life(,) dry roots twisted yet yearn to run, (Hmm. This just doesn't sound right to me. Maybe: dry roots twist yet yearn to run) From the corners(') deep(en)ing gloom, does moulds(') (or mould's) fetid scent still bloom. And I do wonder why, given so many questions, there are no question marks. *Really, this poem is very good and brings to my mind Miss Havisham of Great Expectations (I think.) I was kept in such a room for many years and stanza 3 seems spot-on, esp. poking at a cold grate.

Craig Norris

17 years ago

Go Miss Haversham

Thanks for the tech note, enjoyed that as you will see, but I really like, deeping gloom. It has an edge to the sound of it. Appreciate your observations and compliments, yes, miss Haversham is alive and well in there somewhere.