Looking at things
Walking on cobblestones is an ordeal
and more is the traffic, I look out of the window
when I walk on my treadmill count how many
cars going around the roundabout.
When I have counted 500, I stop this treadmill
15 minutes have gone by.
When I lived at the border of Alentejo I walked
on the soft grass and counted flowers
saw grass grow into fodder for sheep.
A Moldavian family bought my house, people
tell me how lucky I was selling the house
I had many offers but told no one, hence “lucky.”
My lyrical mine is all but dried up, now reduced
to write about furniture, a sad fall from grace.
Categories:
moldavian, absence, betrayal,
Form: Sonnet
Ghostly
I sold my house to a Moldavian family
the drawback was they had two small children
the house came with two ghosts
as everyone knows, only children and poets see ghosts.
The children were not afraid they even played
with my dearly departed dog, it was just doing its
the normal routine at night, securing every room at night;
a thing it used to do before the transition.
The problem started when the children told the parents
they claimed I had not told them and demand the house sale
rescinded.
The dog is not the problem when it realizes its nightly
inspection is not needed hiding objects behind the sofa
is no longer amusing it will fade away.
As for the mule, it is not going anywhere, the house
used to be a barn and the living room a stable.
It has been here 90 years, happily munching hay.
You can even smell it on rainy days odour after
a long day, pulling the plough.
The estate agent told me not to worry about a court case
involving ghosts is a lost cause.
I wouldn´t mind if the dog came to the flat startling rats
coming up from the sewer I have to flush several times?
Before sitting down, and keep the lid firmly closed
with a heavy object on top.
Categories:
moldavian, best friend, books, fantasy,
Form: Burlesque