Slava Olchevski

Rookie - 20 Points (1964 / St.Petersburg, Russia)

The Mansion - Poem by Slava Olchevski

There is one particular mansion
Right in the middle of Washington DC
That for centuries looked abandoned
And who lives there no one could see

It is old, it is almost ancient
Hides behind old growth gingko trees
To ivies it almost surrendered
Let them tangle itself to a frieze

My friend Wayne, who is an avid biker
Drove me into that magic place
Did not revved his beautiful Harley
A vacant look he had on his face

Where am I? What I'm doing here?
Vagabond from a far away land
But I heard a voice very clear
You have come to the right place, my friend

I entered the house, it was dark inside
I lost then found my eyesight
Lots of fine arts were displayed in the hall
Bookshelves full of books were lining the wall

And then, it happened, as it was the case
I was looking at the grand marble staircase
A group of people were descending the stairs
That silent act stood all my hairs

On their ends. I can’t explain what it all meant
But I felt the significance of this event
They were looking at me – both young and old
As they kept on descending to the lower world

When I came back to my senses, I was alone.
I was sitting dazed on White House lawn
In my head there was only one question
Was it just a dream or a mystical initiation?

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Poem Submitted: Friday, December 25, 2009

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