The House on the Hill
The old house on the hill was a magical place to a young child Conjuring visions of grandeur from a time gone by Imagining winding staircases and huge chandeliers Surely an attic filled with treasures An old rocking horse, beloved train set and dusty photographs How I wished to explore the expansive home but it was not meant to be and remained an enigma The iron railing fence and huge gate always locked and foreboding Mounds of leaves from ancient trees picked up by chilly winds Only on rare occasions did we see her, the old lady who lived there Glimpses through the window of a face with grey hair pulled tight in a bun How we would giggle and make up stories of her being a witch who would snatch up small children and eat them for supper All so long ago but those memories still fresh as I picked up the Sold sign and turned the key Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing All Rights Reserved
Photo by Nathan Walker on Unsplash Laura is hosting D'Verse Poets tonight and has prompted us as follows
For this Poetics Prompt I want us to be voyeurs, peeping through windows and doors of a house One that has no family connections, no memories of our own to call upon .
- conjure an imaginary house of any size, any place, any age
- fill it with an imaginary person/people past or present, or ghosts, or leave it empty with its history
- make it literal but move into the metaphorical if you wish