Talking To Furniture

Neighbours
Heard me
Talking
To furniture,

At dusk
I’d play
With the
Curtains,

And let the
Shape-shifting
Shadows
Dance high.

I loved
Counting things,

Buttons,
Bricks,
Cobwebs
And sighs.

Sometimes
I’d sit in the garden
And listen to
The children play.

I’d sing
Out of tune songs
On a five string guitar,

Eat toast
And flick coins.

Then it dawned,

There were
A million
Empty houses
I could spend
This time
Within,

A billion
Lonely floorboards
I could pace
Without this pain,

Even gutters
Have their limits
When the sky
Pours down it’s rain.

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6 Responses to “Talking To Furniture”

  1. Enjoyed it! Thanks…

  2. I have a similar feeling like this each day. Oh the hell of all the unheard poets. The powers of all the sounds we will never hear. The closure of all the words we will never speak. What a vast mystery to those thoughtful enough to notice everything we will never notice. Special.

  3. I love how you’ve interpreted it, Alicia.

  4. “Even gutters
    Have their limits
    When the sky
    Pours down its rain.” – this is so memorable; reminds me of that “Tears in the rain” line from Blade Runner. Excellent!

  5. Wow. Thanks Chris 🙂

  6. This poem is a masterpiece on the theme of despair. Well done.

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