My home for fourteen years, but, in your eyes,
It's termed a saleable commodity.
Absurd to feel defensive, but it's me
You're wounding when you pause to criticise
A creaking door, or look with pained surprise
At peeling paint. Somehow I didn't see
Those grubby marks until you came; the tree
You call a hazard is a friend I prize.
I shall grow hardened to this new-found pain,
I shall show people round and gain the skill
Of placing potted plants to hide the stain
That time has wreaked upon the window-sill.
But, as a traitor, how can I explain
To bricks and mortar that I love it still?
I've been there as well, Mary. You have spoken my exact sentiments. Thank you for showing me that I'm not the only one who grows attached to 'bricks and mortar'!
You are like my mom very who values memories of the past, keep it in her heart and always love antics because of it memorable history not value.Loved it.take my 10.
I think it was Eliot who said that poetry is finding something to say about everyday things but saying it diffently and well. You have definitely acheived that with this piece. Reminding the reader of the value of a home which is not the same as the valuation of a house.
another good sonnet i relate to, mary. just this morning i was talking with my brother and sister-in-law as we were on a morning walk about all that goes into the upkeep of a house. -glen
'But, as a traitor, how can I explain To bricks and mortar that I love it still? ' Amazing poem 10++
hehe that is a reallly good poem i really enjoyed it awesome work
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh yes, I've had a house like that and feel like that about this one. This is a brilliant poem and should be submitted to a magazine