Thursday, October 28, 2010

Poem: Rennovation Blues

Renovation Blues

You peer in the window
of the ancient house,
a survivor for two hundred years
and more, now worn and tattered,

a relic of what once was,
and looking in, you see,
not the fallen stairs
and rippled plaster,
not the raw, scratched floors,
and layers of peeling paint,
but something else.....

You see what could be,
and in your mind you see each step,
the slow, laborious work
that if applied
could transform the house

from ghost to glorious.
You know the path to rennovaton
because you have done this,
rebuilding your own house,
brick by heart breaking brick

in the process of demolition and rebirth
that is the only road
from ghost
to glorious.

You peer in the window,
into the house that is not yours,
knowing that these walls are not yours to break down,
not yours to rebuild,

and you walk away,


I have Willow to thank for reminding me of the power of poetry when read. She recently had Whale Sounds read one of her poems and listening, I thought to myself, "I need to get back to that." and so I've gotten back to it. It may mean poems being a little slower to appear here, as it takes some time to do each one, but that's not all bad.

The picture was taken in Wells, Vermont, not far from my home in West Pawlet. You can click on it to see a larger version.

Take care,



willow said...

Powerful and evocative piece, Tom. What a treat to hear it in your own lovely voice! Poetry is meant to be read aloud, the sounds and textures savored.

Derrick said...

This is the first time I've been able to hear you read, Tom. I enjoyed it very much!

The lady in Red said...

wow..Tom...I was touched by your poem, that "theme" could be extended, as far as our lives are concerned, how we build our lives, our personality, how we develop from our upbringing. I listened the poem, great. Thanks for sharing to us!
Best wishes,

Mark Kerstetter said...

"From ghost to glorious" - I like this as a poem and also because of its theme. I live it, crying especially when such buildings, full of such history and such promise, are reduced to splinters. That's why I try and salvage little pieces of them whenever I can.