Upstart Photographer – The Abandoned House

Photo, Poem—two of a kind in the best of minds. Or the worst. You tell me.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

The House. A poem (Abandoned, part 2)

This shell lingers like the aftertaste
of a charcoal-flavoured entree,
partially consumed like an afterthought
of vagrant afternoons
and post-sunset tribulations.

The book resting on your pane,
to be discovered like a subtle artefact,
woven with memory and gentle discord,
its pages read by the illiterate mountain breeze.
A page turner, nonetheless.

Throughout the halls the remnants lay,
waiting upon the rust and decay
that would make them less than useful.
Much like the old couple
who lived here before the passing storm,
when the rafters choked on smoke
and carbon monoxide was the drug of choice
(even if choice was a forced confession).

Here and there Mother Nature speaks,
disdainfully mocking the carpenter’s achievements
and bricklayer’s sandstone mastery.
She paints a vivid green commentary,
owing nothing to architectural remonstrance,
but building a memorial

that will linger like the aftertaste
of a charcoal-flavoured entree.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

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Upstart Photographer – The Book

I recently found a house in the mountains, burnt out and abandoned. Resting on a window pane, its tenuous pages teased by the wind, was a partially charred book. The page settled in the breeze. As I took a photo I noticed how tragically ironic the words were.

I had to write a poem about it, of course.

Cheers

Steve 🙂

The Book. A poem (Abandoned, part 1)

Resting now, tales upended,
curled from flames at war,
your words not quite as meaningless
as others may have thought.
Each blackened leaf an anecdote
of irony, for naught.
Naked walls surround you;
a Dali canvas, all distraught.

You remain the lost reminder
of all the lonely souls before,
who paced this frame and residence
before the firestorm burned it raw.

The All or the Nothing

For more of my poetry, check out The All or the Nothing, my first book, available at most online book sellers in print or e-book formats.

Click here to find out how to get your copy.

Want to support Steve with a donation? Click on the donate link at the bottom of this page. Thanks!

Ghosts. A poem.

The house is empty now
But shadows whisper longingly
Faded images de-coupled
Waltzing to a memory

We walked here once
Now we are past tense
Conjoined in the dust mites
Holographic vestiges

The house breathes
In and out, submissive
Each breath synchronised
A myopic symphony

It remembers all too well
The agony and blame
Of souls sold to sadness
Anger, rage and pain


The skies give freely
And rain paints the grey
Metallic spectrum glistens
Tears on window panes

Long shall our ghosts walk here
Unfettered by these frames
Dwelling in forevermore
Long shall these ghosts remain


This poem came to me while I was on the loo (inspiring and a lttle gross). It’s a bit Poe-like, at times, I think. Wasn’t intentionally so.

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