Every House is Haunted

There is never truly darkness

Each room is kept alight

By smoldering embers

Of past pain, hope, and fright

Wooden floorboards in the hallways

That criss and cross the mind

All creak beneath the weight

Of notions left behind

No body is ever naked

Skin forms pockets of gloom

Robes of bliss and sorrow

Create a woven tomb

There is no blanket fully black

To cover us in sleep

Moth-eaten memories

Flutter, dance, and leap

Train stations cannot be quiet

In each of them there lives

Whispers of moving feet

Of Heaven's fugitives

And so every house is haunted

By those who roamed before

All present occupants

Are guests and nothing more

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

Perhaps the house of the title is a metaphor for the mind. All of the things mentioned in the poem continue to exist within us. We do not get rid of them, only come to terms with them. Very nice use of imagery in this one.

[willweb]

That was cool. I liked the flow of this poem and the ending lines were awesome. Very good. I also enjoyed the rhymes, they were spot on.