Crooked Chandelier

Mon, 06/16/2014 - 11:47 -- Dbs877


Rusty nails pin these twisted roots

of the house, which so adorned, is now decrepit.

Flies decorate the windowsill

Constellations of shattered glass

The ember cracks, a small, resilient base reduced to ash.


My home scraped not with frailty,

an eagle thus produced.

Perched among a blossom grove,

the elm tree housed his roost.


Overlooked a golden sea,

waves crack against the shore

planted on a hanging cliff,

my house designed by Moore.


In this illusion it then manifested,

the parasite intrudes

My burning flame of grandeur,

now cracking ember new.



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