Moving

By Angusfolklore

Sat, 01 Sep 2018
  • 1120 reads
4 comments
 

Moving house.

Nod to the skeletons in the shrubbery 

(only buried guinea pigs holding long gone paws).

This relocation coincides, more or less,

with a blessing,

and I neither believe nor know any better

that the heaped Everests of sorrow

must be disassembled and then

enshrined elswhere, anew,

nor that there is no escape

from the hound shadow of habit

(of the worst sort),

salivating at the lack of change.

Even this late a white house

gleams in the gloaming,

not far ahead.

Welcome.

Certificate U
Poem
Poems of Scotland, Exile, and Everything Else

Comments

Submitted by airyfairy on

I really appreciated this poem.  I too will soon be leaving a home of many years, and though I'm only moving a short distance away it will be a real change in those habits.  In my case, the graveyard holds two cats, a hamster and a goldfish, and all they represent.  It will seem very odd, but exciting.  

Submitted by Angusfolklore on

Yes, leap into the dark in many ways (9 years for me).  I am determined not to give credence to the truism (?) that you only take your problems with you.

 

Submitted by thornwood on

From the hound shadow of habit
( of the worst sort ).

I really liked mmmhh do I know this I think I do.

Nice art.

Keep writing.

Stephen d

Submitted by Angusfolklore on

Thanks you.  I'm wondering myself whether hound shadoow of habit brother of black dog of depression, dunno.