Another take on the Sunday Scribblings “December” prompt, but also for Jingle, Poets United, and other friends. This, in memory of houses and people facing neglect. Amy
OLD HOUSE IN MIDWINTER
Chipped clapboard snags bits of falling snow
The sagging porch, bulwarked by drifts
Cats wander in and out from underneath
through the hole in the latticework
ripped back in 82 by Greg’s whisky-fueled Ford sedan
The eaves troughs droop under weight of icicles
A sure sign of neglect
Bad insulation breeds stalactites
The poorer the family, the longer the crystals
Fernbeds of frost, delightful even on broken panes
Nature’s articulation of frozen beauty
Footprints a sign of life within these walls,
clomp clomp up the stairs, bristled Welcome mat
tracked by carefully brushed boots
Inside, the old man reads every word of the Pennysaver
It was their Sunday pastime years back; now it’s his alone
He clips coupons for items he will never buy
and gazes out, waiting for the gas company
to turn off his heat, the bastards.
He could do without the cable, even the electric…
Tonight he will sleep in their four-poster and let go.
The house senses this; from the crumbling chimney
comes the mournful whisper of a sigh
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sharp Little Pencil 
Sherry Blue Sky
Oh this is very poignant. I know an old fellow just like this! Thanks for remembering the elderly, so often forgotten or set aside.
Sharp Little Pencil
Funny how everyone goes ga-ga over Santa and forgets the REAL old folks, especially the ones who aren’t in a fancy nursing home. Forget whoever said a nation can be judged by how they take care of their animals… what about how we take care of our seniors and children? Thanks for connecting with this, Sherry, I knew you would. A.
Saire
What a great poem – such a mixture of sadness and beauty!
Thanks for visiting my blog – hopefully we will see each other again on Sunday Scribblings 🙂
Sharp Little Pencil
Saire, thanks for your visit as well, and yes, come February when my move is completed to Madison, I imagine I’ll see y’all quite a bit! 😉 Incidentally, I love the name “Step Away From The Console,” cracked me up!
Peace, Amy
Debbie
So visual and graphic and I want to go get him right now. Thank you for delivering truth through your pen to our hearts. 🙂
Sharp Little Pencil
Oh, Debbie, you betray your very big heart with this. I know what you mean, though. Thanks for the compliment, but I’m simply writing what I observe…
RJ
Amy – your elegant use of language paints an oh-so-poignant picture with just a few carefully placed strokes. “The poorer the family, the longer the crystals.” It makes me want to visit, in spite of everything.
Sharp Little Pencil
Thanks, Randi. Actually, Lex was the person who pointed out that sad fact to me years ago… we were driving down the street and I noticed that some houses were laden with icicles, while others were virtually barren. He told me about the poor insulation and how, when the heat leaked out the roof, it melted the snow and caused large icicles to form. Now I look at them all the time and really, the most beat-up houses have those real stalactites… A
Wendy Erman
I think you could get rid of the word “mournful” in the last line, as the whole poem carries such a heaviness. We know this man’s history. We know the house is essentially crumbling around him. We know his loneliness. We know he is monumentally tired, of body and the world. We mourn him before he lets go, thus my argument that that one word could go. What an amazing poet you are.
Sharp Little Pencil
Wow, Wendy, two things to thank you for: the compliment, and the advice. I truly crave advice, and I would not have caught the redundancy of that word, mournful, had you not pointed it out. You have good eyes and a great sense of content. You pay attention. That’s great in a reader, and even better in a poet! Will visit you and see what you’re up to now!
Thank you, sincerely. Amy BL.
Jingle
elegant wriitng,
wishing you a very happy new year and Merry Christmas..
cheers.
Sharp Little Pencil
Thanks, Jingle, and I hope you had a peaceful Solstice as well. I spent it in meditation and reflection…
Lilibethl
A beautiful poem and somehow a tribute. The letting go comes as a blessed event and not a shock–a soft little tragedy.
Sharp Little Pencil
Lilibeth, that is exactly how I thought of it. Like the house will miss him, but he will be reunited with his beloved… “Soft little tragedy” sounds like a phrase from a poem you may soon write!
Thanks for “getting it” and communicating it so thoughtfully, Amy
JanePoet ~ JP/deb
love the imagery in this poem … like a painting with words.
Sharp Little Pencil
Like a painting with words… wow, thanks, because that’s exactly how I wrote it. Conjured the vision, then described it. That the house was occupied came as a total surprise to me, but I noticed the footprints, and the story expanded from there. Someone called it a peaceful ending for the old man, and I hope that’s how everyone saw it. The closing of a book, the opening of the gates…
Peace, Amy