Number 14c
You live inside my mind
Down the crooked corridor,
left at memory's lane
A footnote in a dull corner
adorning the rows of humble doors lining
the shining hallways of my mind
Down the steepest steps, the dankest stairs
your scent drifts, dares, rising
from the darkest alleyways, the pathways through
the battered buildings in my head
A labyrinth in which to lose you
The lead chandeliers, the charcoal ceilings choke
the granite ground where your
footprints still steam, and smoke
Dusty walls where years escape the cleaners
Ask at reception, the lady with the crow nose,
for 14c, she knows, where no one goes
She frowns, then nods, hands you a key
old, rusted, black and slightly mouldy
she says, be careful, young friend, be wary
the forgotten rooms hold many a memory
Ironic, you think. And walk on, on
Corner after corner, walk
past children's nook, favourite game, 52a
thought train, construction sites
1, 2, 3, doors 40f through 22b
follow the trail of stale air
and there - take care, beware, beware
the keep out signs strung, decorating your door
beware, beware
knock, knock, who's there?
You. Your Highness. Your Grace. Nice place.
Your cavernous space fit for a king, grand,
vast in artificial gleam, bright as
your smile - smug, snivelling beam, green as
your tavern, spread like butter, warm with venom
as you laze on your wooden throne - the centrepiece,
masterpiece - roots screwed into the overgrown ground
growing green mould, spreading like poison in an arc from your feet
Your weary chin aged, not in defeat - a dormant beast
at number 14c
Through mine eye thou art lay
in all your languishing glory
in your pristine pool of words filled
with poet's pride
your letters branding the hotel of my mind
Your room is an everlasting night, a reflection
of your kind of life -
no stars to mock your sugared glare
no knighthood for your moongazing stare, your
pretty little lies
lie abreast in a bush
killed two birds with my hand still in yours
what for, applause?
now I'm the independent clause.
Now, what muse have you for your thoughts?
Why yes, I am surely amused, oh how you jest!
You hum a tune that rattles your prison bars
I catch it at the threshold, in one stone fist
It gives, I crumble it into dust, to throw
in a heap, at your sodden feet
as I slam the door on your slow sneer, cutting off
an octave of melody, now I hold the key
It's out of, and sharp, in some sections flat
because I know you'd hate nothing more than that
Now I waltz down my sun-stained corridor
whistling this merry tune
as I dangle between my finger and thumb
The key to 14c
YOU ARE READING
A Love Letter to Life - random poems
Poetry'life isn't the amount of breaths you take, it's the moments that take your breath away.' Poems. Random poems I wrote - 'A Love Letter to Life'. This does not mean they are about love, because life is not always about love. In fact, it is quite ofte...
