Ooo we are hitting the rough time where everything I write feels shitty. But I am here for it!
The House of River and Smoke
The house sits on an island
Made from rivers
Cutting through the earth
Letting the fog hide it
The earth’s smoke mixed
With the smoke from our fires
The house sits stuck in time
Waiting to be found again
Waiting for the next need
I lile the ephemeral quality of this poem. And the notion that the house is eluding detection but by those who “need” it.
Thank you! I wasn’t feeling the prompt for this hour so I found one of those “your birthday, first letter of first name, and first letter of last name” things that gave me a book title and rolled with it for this. Which was a ton of fun!
This gave me such ethereal vibes and pulled up such a strong image for me. Loved this!
Thank you!! I always worry that I don’t get enough imagery in my poems so I’m happy to know at least one got it!