I used to walk down the grey corridor looking at the floor, When the lights reflected in the tinkling paint Slid underneath me and I stamped on them as they went Under me in increments.
Turned into grey floor, white walls, white ceiling, long rectangular window, Divided into squares with rectangles above and rectangles below.
Chairs formed a broken circle. A ghostly image of some past meeting. Huddled whispering silent.
White, grey and the infinitesimal in-between. Cut with an electric shock of blue and a patch of shimmering green, Block of red bricks glowing with the sun. My footsteps reverberate around this wonderful room. It fills every sound with depth and meaning. I whistle and then i hum It’s not really constant it’s full of human error, but the room dampens the waver; treats every sound like it’s uttered by a choir boy. Scrape of the chair spirals through the air. Then the pigeons effortlessly circulating, Framed by the wind hole And obscured by its textured panel, Transforming the birds into modulations of grey against blue red green.
Thank you room, for your insight. I am free to go. I went. Glanced back at the room that will never see another view. Stuck staring with its one oblong eye Never blinking at the red bricks piled up to the sky And the perpetual pigeons.
2 Comments:
I used to walk down the grey corridor looking at the floor,
When the lights reflected in the tinkling paint
Slid underneath me and I stamped on them as they went
Under me in increments.
Turned into grey floor, white walls, white ceiling, long rectangular window,
Divided into squares with rectangles above and rectangles below.
Chairs formed a broken circle.
A ghostly image of some past meeting.
Huddled whispering silent.
White, grey and the infinitesimal in-between.
Cut with an electric shock of blue and a patch of shimmering green,
Block of red bricks glowing with the sun.
My footsteps reverberate around this wonderful room.
It fills every sound with depth and meaning.
I whistle and then i hum
It’s not really constant it’s full of human error, but the room dampens the waver; treats every sound like it’s uttered by a choir boy.
Scrape of the chair spirals through the air.
Then the pigeons effortlessly circulating,
Framed by the wind hole
And obscured by its textured panel,
Transforming the birds into modulations of grey against blue red green.
Thank you room, for your insight.
I am free to go.
I went.
Glanced back at the room that will never see another view.
Stuck staring with its one oblong eye
Never blinking at the red bricks piled up to the sky
And the perpetual pigeons.
Snakes
I am walking with mum.
And I got bitten.
I saw two snakes - one is a grass snake,
and the other one is a small cobra.
We are walking and chatting - passing a house,
they wanted me to pay for the sofa..
it had my name on it.
I got bitten on the ankle.
Post a Comment
<< Home