Floorboard Poems | Examples

some days

the floorboard that gasps when stepped on
the blue bulb pulsing in an amber-lit room
the coffee stain colonizing your blue shirt—
some days, we’re nothing but
a tiny inconvenience

sharpen a pencil too far—it snaps
gargled too long, you swallow by accident
sending flowers too early—
some days, we’re nothing but
the clock that limps or leaps

some days, we are
the red shirt always missing—
until we bleed into everything

Stranger in the Attic

Silently, stealthily, slowly
He strolled with great care
So as to avoid the floorboard
That would squeak 
And seal his fate

Smiling, sweating, successful
He slid past the enemy
That could terminate
The solace he sought
And savored

Sulking, seething, sitting
He swallowed day old soup
And dreamt of caviar
That could soothe his craving
And his sanity

Softly, safely, soberly
He slipped into serenity
Without a struggle
Into the shelter of eternity
And secrets

GAPS PERVADING

I have an awful memory. It's sad.
Seemingly destroyed by that madman
Who, sixty-one years ago, pulled out
Without looking,and crashed into my car
Sending mine careering towards death.
Ha! I've got news for him, wherever,
I survived! 


But you robbed me of some dreams!
Dreams that, like all memories, are passive
And cannot be completely lived again.
But it is the words... sixty-one years !
Who would have thought there'd be so many?


Amongst them, through the gaps pervading,
Are gems: Memories to be grateful for.
The tin box of silver thrupences
I hid beneath a floorboard in 1952!
Did anyone find it? Or did they rain
Down upon heads of demolition men
Like angel's tears at all destruction:
At things that should have aged and died
Naturally, in the most usual and intended way.
Gone tomorrow but here today.

 

 

© Allen Ansell 2024

The Ghost Of Roderow Hegg

He died in a sudden
in a world untamed
   and a burden
to his own flailing calmness
   yet nevertheless
       Hegg was dead

dead for her and for her
the earth, kingdoms, seas
   and all under
no more was her Roderow
   and though
      there somewhere

both, and at night both flew
the streets of the town
   heard of the two   
singing songs around headstones
   to tempt bones
      free, they flee

fun, they had fun
and play, Hegg still played
   alone never done
though she felt him around
   that creaking sound
      floorboard chords

his beloved now sat, left alone
lost while Roderow troubled
   ornaments at home
trying to get her attention
   or something
      she could feel

so through age and through love 
sweet candle, sweet flame they were
though they’d played in their frolic
but he was the witch, not her

The Cutting

In the back floorboard empty Boones Farm bottles,
rattled to the rhythm of lust without love.
Fourteen and her world was a different backseat,
staring at another gray rooftop above.

He’d abandoned them so many years ago,
it was hard for her to remember his face.
Each new boy now was her attempt to find him,
but a father’s love was hard to replace.

It was an endless stream of the same old thing,
though she knew they didn’t have what she’d need.
They only drip the same sweat from their foreheads,
taking what they want to satisfy their greed.

Each night ended with her alone and ashamed,
the same tears leaving stains on her pillowcase.
Each time the razor blade slid slightly deeper,
each memory taking longer to erase.

MY LAST N-A

I pushed at the open door
no sound
just darkness inside. 
Dust filtered my
nostrils, 
    a mustiness of lost years
inhabited my senses. 

A loose floorboard
creaked in the stairwell, 
the aroma 
of her Chanel provoked memories 
of my
living hell. 
A tear of self-pity congealed
in the dirt at my feet

I switched on the light
"Hello son
     I knew you'd be back;
He's gone..."

The Big Day

I creep around
Before the dawn
The hopeful joy
Of Christmas morn

Each floorboard creaks
As tippy-toe
Snow laden boots
So quietly go

The child-like thrill
Of early eyes
Awake in hope
Of morning prize

For being good
Has been the goal
A clementine or
Piece of coal

Some nuts to crack
With something sweet
Then later 
Plenty more to eat

How times have changed
But what remains
Are hope and love
Each gift contains

So lift your hearts
Recall the reason  
But don't lose sight 
Of why the season

We celebrate..
Not stuff or tat
The world has had 
Enough of that 

But joy and peace
To quell the noise
For grown-ups 
Not just girls and boys

Have a blessed Christmas x

Love and Horror

Horror and love


He rented a room in Puerto Lemon to make love to
a woman beautiful, but since both of them came from one of those hideous little towns along the coast of Norway they had to be discreet.
From the darkness of the night and into the light, flew
a wonderful insect, the color of gold
the wonder being danced to music only the two could hear and they swayed in a circle of love.
As we know, love can hurt, he reached out his arms and
accidentally damaged a wing and the ethereal being fell
to the ground and from cracks in the floorboard they came muscular ants, the destroyer of forbidden love
 
The ants dragged the golden queen down a crack, and he was spared seeing them turn her into pieces before eating to the sound of the evening bells.
He awoke the woman in his bed, she needed religious forgiveness, and he needed a cold beer.

Character Traits

This soul is gentle, proud and true 
I’ve veins of red and veins of blue 
Red like flames that lick the air 
Blue that hides, they’re unaware

The heart that worships and adores
Is the same that pulls away, ignores 
I walk away by floorboard creak 
Too shy to see them or to speak 

But Saturdays I’m awfully loud 
Swerving through the lively crowd
With neon lights of green and pink
I think I had too much to drink 

I love the mornings, fresh cut grass 
The big bronze bells that ring for mass
The moon enchants me way up high 
And brings about a wistful sigh 

My moods are many colored hues 
Silvers, golds, the deepest blues 
I keep my love behind a wall 
I am human, after all

The Visitor

He pushed at the open door
no sound
just darkness inside. 
Dust filtered his
nostrils, 
    a mustiness of lost years
inhabited his senses. 

A loose floorboard
creaked in the stairwell, 
the aroma 
of her Chanel provoked memories 
of his
living hell. 
A tear of self-pity congealed
in the dirt at his feet

He switched on the light
"Hello son
     I knew you'd be back;
He's gone..."

Uprooted

Unlike the Famous Five,
with capers, japes and adventures,
boats and well stocked picnics, we lived
a back street life. With a sock and masking tape ball
and mucky fat sarnies.
The Family Allowance Five.
Each one of us an extra pound.
With facsimile school photos,
in hand me down jumpers and carving knife tread pumps,
floorboard cricket bat and under the bed air rifle.
Crab apple scrumping and tresspassing for mushrooms,
rabbitting before school,
paper round before school,
milk round before school.
Everything came before school.
Sunburnt scoundrels but "never any bother"
Corrugated asbestos roof walkers.
Cinema ticket hawkers.
Unseen, inconsequential, together but apart.
No roots or football boots.
Hot pot bollocks. 
One foot here one foot there. 
Immigrants finding their way,
but without the ginger beer.

A Chapter One Para 1 To 3

I pushed at the open door
no sound
just darkness inside. 
Dust filtered my
nostrils, 
    a mustiness of lost years
inhabited my senses. 

A loose floorboard
creaked in the stairwell, 
the aroma 
of her Chanel provoked memories 
of my
living hell. 
A tear of self-pity congealed
in the dirt at my feet

I switched on the light
"Hello son
     I knew you'd be back;
He's gone..."

1.ENTERED IN 'Chaptor ' 1 Matt Calari Nov 1 2022

2. entered in Constance la France ' Writing Challenge - X'd Poems Second Chance' Contest Dec 5 2022

Decaying Fruit

Produce stand stops for fresh strawberries.
Nowhere to put them but your car.
Summer heat creeping through the glass.
The berries are wilting in the floorboard.
Unbeknownst to you.
Wilting like your love.
Unbeknownst to me.

The Lonely Cabin

The lonely cabin

I knocked on the door of the small cottage
the window steamed up I drew a childish picture
faces of children, that when the sun came erased 
the drawings and, I thought of childhood.
My brother had lived here, his children refused
gave the cottage to be a gesture of goodwill.
I knocked on the door; it fell in a cloud of dust
the cabin was empty a floorboard creaked in pain
unused being walked on.
I turned to leave, the door arose and blocked my way
I promised the cottage, a man from the village
will come and paint inside and outside I will
move in here with my dog. 
The cottage relented, door and window opened 
letting in fresh air and sunlight.

Family Ties

THICKER THAN WATER

I pushed at the open door
no sound
just darkness inside. 
Dust filtered my
nostrils, 
    a mustiness of lost years
inhabited my senses. 
A loose floorboard
creaked in the stairwell, 
the aroma 
of her Chanel provoked memories 
of my
living hell. 
A tear of self-pity congealed
in the dirt at my feet

I switched on the light

"Hello son
     I knew you'd be back;
He's gone..."



NOTE this is a repost of my original prose 2010 to illustrate there is only two real differences between prose and poetry.Visual presentation and the fact that poetry is written to read aloud.

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