The house on the hill – new poem

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A cold metal handle leads to the room where white orchids                                                                with starched petals and sculpted yellow centers create                                                                             a sense of stillness after the hum of London streets.

According to the free paper from Metro land  tortoises                                                                          are destined to wear knitted wooly hats and politicians                                                                struggle to capture the disaffected middle England vote.

Just ten minutes to the Archers where Tom still broods                                                                           for Brenda. Serve him right, there is only so much talk                                                                            of own brand organic sausages that any girl can stand!

Now the wind is up like an angry giant taking its revenge                                                                        for some imagined misdeed in this house on the hill.                                                                                   it crashes on the roof tiles demanding my attention.

In the darkness hundreds of lights flicker in the houses                                                                   below, they concertina down to the sea like an unweidy                                                                dragon dancing at a chinese festival

Rain strikes out the movement of the night,                                                                                                pull the curtains, check my emails, open a new folder,                                                                         type in ‘How to have a happy old age’.

 

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This entry was posted in Brighton - out and about, Cheer yourself up, Photography, Poetry - Creative Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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