The House
I'm a rambling house, on the outskirts of a north African town.
1920's I saw lavish banquets and a woman dressed in a beautiful gown.
1940's saw WW2 and German Generals, in my ballroom using maps to fight allies they found.
I was starting to wear, but my fixtures were stout and my walls were still very sound.
My next occupier was an Englishman who cried from the horrors of war.
He loved my tower apartment, the new buildings surrounding me.
He occasionally looked up and saw.
It's 1970's and I'm somewhat decrepit.
I think I’ll be demolished by law.
- Category: Poetry
5 comments add one below
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Neville Hunt over 5 years ago
You’re really on a roll with your poetry, Peter. Bravo!
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Peter Henderson over 5 years ago
Many thanks to you for support and everyone for votes. I like the category. It's quirky, a rarely used form on the site, makes me work hard at getting something that reads right and if I find a good subject even harder to make it poignant.
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Neville Hunt over 5 years ago
Well your enjoyment of the genre is obvious and you may find that it becomes infectious....
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Peter Henderson over 5 years ago
Many thanks for the advice
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Mona over 5 years ago
This is very wow! Also very visual!
