Echoes call forever

Footsteps still echo on the
polished parquet floors;
clattering echoes in a house
that holds no windows.

as smeared fingerprints
mark the matt finish paintwork,
flaking, where the damp
has infiltrated through.

Each print is a measure
of infancy through to
young adulthood.
then the story died;
and a thousand truths
since then, have been
Lied about, embellished.

It's hidden in the place
where shadows locked horns,
as billowing curtains
set sail on unchartered seas.

Below in the hall,
you can smell the pipe smoke
as it curled and spiralled
up the old oak staircase,
to stand and listen
outside bedrooms, where
girls sighed, cried,
wished for so much,
so much more
then fell giggling on
featherbeds,
their unblemished cheeks
tinged with colour,
livid red and white.

Echoes call forever;
they're woven into the
structure, the mortar,
the skeleton of a house
they're in the whisper
and the wind of a home
with broken shutters





Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 646 times
Written on 2015-04-13 at 20:48

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Yes, buildings have a memory. I think everything is recorded in their structure. Just waiting for us to use the correct device to hear their past. This is very nicely written and tells us so much about the place. Well done.
2015-04-14


josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
I've often wondered what old houses have to say. I would love to be able to listen as one told me of the exuberance it felt during its building through its years to neglect and sad abandonment. You have piqued my interest in this poem beautifully
2015-04-13


Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Beautifully melancholy x
2015-04-13