23.7.11

Wilderness

dust meets dust
and swirls around
contemplating

my house is a wilderness from love

I laid each brick
blood upon blood
I cut down that old tree to make a door

please, come in to the wilderness of my heart

my faith is but a tumbleweed
Posted by wanderer above the mist at 23.7.11
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9 comments:

  1. Mark KerstetterAugust 2, 2011 at 10:15 PM

    This is not very simple methinks. It's rather paradoxical, like a cube of wind. I do think of the heart as a wild thing.

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  2. Pat HattAugust 2, 2011 at 10:19 PM

    Great last line, enjoyed the word play in this piece.

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  3. Brian MillerAugust 2, 2011 at 10:32 PM

    nice...my house is a wilderness FROM love....the bloody bricks too are a nice touch but that last line is the show stealer...

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  4. SheilaAugust 3, 2011 at 12:09 AM

    love all of the elemental textures you placed in this - bricks, tumble weeds, dust, trees.

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  5. Tom EliotAugust 3, 2011 at 10:50 AM

    This poem is tricky and imaginative - it got my mind whirling - a sensation i adore


    thankyou

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  6. AnonymousAugust 3, 2011 at 3:10 PM

    Fascinating trip with so few words. Thank you

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  7. VictoriaAugust 3, 2011 at 4:47 PM

    Enjoyed this a lot. I love the tumbleweed simile...faith is like that oftimes. So glad you linked this to dVerse.

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  8. Jannie FunsterAugust 4, 2011 at 2:58 PM

    Sometimes old trees do need to make way for new things.

    Lovely poem!

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  9. MartinSeptember 8, 2011 at 9:33 AM

    Your images speak to me. "I laid each brick / blood upon blood" - these lines grasped at me.

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