the windows are shut
the blinds are drawn
the door is locked
the lights are out
but the house is awake

the floorboards ripple
the walls squirm
the ceiling shakes with nervous energy
the doorways twitch

night has fallen
the people inside are fast asleep
but the house is awake

In the dark typhoon, swayed a dark dark house.
In the dark monsoon, flew the dark dark mouse.
Below dark dark clouds, people scream and shout,
And by the 12th hour, noon, is when the Sun comes out.

In the light, you see rubble, and the people all dead.
On a tree that had fallen, lies a small mouse head.
Through the wind left behind, you hear what the house said
As its boards were all torn from beneath its beds.

You hear the creaking and wailing of nails, screws, and springs
Which escape from their places, among other things.
They escape through the windows, and break their panes too,
And as the whistling fell silent,
All left now,
Is you.

The Ghost House
The village folk say her owner was a grumpy old man,
He would curse at children playing in front of his beautiful house
Now it sits falling apart, rusty and grotesque.

In the corner of SisterBerenice Street there sits a house
Her walls cracked and her yard unkept
Her windows shattered and her doors battered.

Now the children stray further from the house
For rumor has it shes haunted
By the spirit of the grumpy old man.
But she stands lifeless and rotten
Giving testimony of death really is,
  Slowly decaying and being forgotten.

Living Inside myself
Living  within me
All I want to do is to break free
Inside Lies a hidden Jewel and to
Introduce to the World the
True Me
Can't you see??
Like a Clam in its Shell
My Body is the House
from whence my Soul
Dwells

B.R
11/18/2022

Envious to myself to be called out as your
baby, despite how much she nurses me-
all the night she prays for my blessings; while
during my day I act out as one not considering
how blessed I am to have her… her clothing prepared
to robe me with the covering of much respect

Her sacrifices are unsung; reaping all for me to sow
—and by the bruises on her heart, it has to show
as young as she was, she reflected a mother's love
put all together in our pretend house

we were unashamed under a tree’s fruit to ripen-
perhaps I missed how to her, this was our very first
date- but please forgive me, for not seeing how my
childhood friend didn’t take our childish love
games as just another game
                     I thought it was just a game of house

This old house painted in faded  pride
knows me well.  I did not learn to walk here,
but I did learn to leap- and do it mightily.

The old dishes have been broken or thrown away,
replaced by new ones with new owners. The taps
stiff with old age and rust, surely have been replaced.

The comfortable chairs, the linoleum, the tile,
the **** rugs, the step up altar where my
mother was married, are probably leveled flat.

I can only see your outside and imagine your
many renovations in the sawdust of time,  
atticless, cribless,  old beds churning  to new beds.

While I lived there, you were a good soul
who kindly accepted all bidding, and I can see, donated your good bones to other’s  futures.

Other places I have lived have been less generous, tumbling into disarray, illness,  nature’s destruction before I could even build a future in them.  

I can feel the ill winds blow and know that this new abode will be more of the same, filled with unfated things never settling down into their rightful places.

I thank you, dear old thing, for your graceful love.