My Home Is No Fortress
Speechless thoughts flow out as words when the drawbridge is upended
From turrets they wind down and spiral into a stream of consciousness
Gently wind to and fro processions of images narratives a dreamy river
Drought happens as I resort to the keep when beleaguered by onslaught
of foes breaking barbicans collapsing foreign walls in the most barbarian way
Crowded rampage seizes ramparts and bulwarks of my own defences
Baileys and mounts scream battle cries of injustice injured in ignorance
Thus I decide there’s no longer a need for arrow loops since my truths
reject the heart ache of anger and would much rather be conquered by love
I conclude therefore to raise spiky stakes portcullises and misconceptions
and suppose that it is not me who built their house on evaporation and sand
When my thoughts slide up and down buttresses and find their words
vulnerable projections dissolve and my home is once more a wide open space
16th November
Categories:
barbicans, home,
Form: Free verse