The Souls Of Household ObjectsA Poem by Leslie Philibertthings that are here
So familiar they cannot be viewed, gnostic perhaps,
each embodied with spirit, trapped in recall, an earless china dog of unknown origin, looking stupidly into the living room, a black-and-white portrait of a Victorian aunt, strict and cheerless, framed in something faking silver, children captured free of sin, a moment of innocence, a wedding picture, frozen, now of strangers, a postcard from Vienna, retouched with eye bending colours. The big brown clock fails to tick. The smell of dusty leather and dried flowers. Surrounded by things I can now never change. © 2012 Leslie PhilibertReviews
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15 Reviews Added on April 8, 2012 Last Updated on April 8, 2012 AuthorLeslie PhilibertBavaria, GermanyAboutI`m not important. I just want to write a couple of good poems. Just read what I write. That`s enough. more..Writing
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