Day: November 21, 2014

(crypt)

burial chamber

one subterranean vault

secrets buried here

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

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Poorhouse

State of being is not well

In shambles, in fact

Rats own the interior of the walls

Dust owns all the ledges

The mind hangs itself

With chicken wire or a shoelace

Anything to move the blood

Change the mood, feel good again

Life hasn’t been easy

There haven’t been handouts

No government cheese or free bread

No game shows

No brand new cars

Hand-me-downs and leftovers

And always cold

Cold like her heart

She could get out if she wanted

But this is the world she knows

Complete with sub-par creature comforts

Complete with the rats

And dust

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

November

Lonely is November

Grey are the skies

Not the warmth of summer

Nor the power of winter ahead

A bit of a lost month

Was the ninth in the Roman calendar

The one that began in March

The month of sacrifice

You are quite literally the blood-month

The dirtiest of all

A time dedicated to prepare for the long winter

A time to sacrifice the animals

A time to butcher and store for months ahead

Sadness, dreariness, loneliness and cold

But that doesn’t last

Nor shall November

© Dicky J Loweman 2014