The Old House Rides On Morning Poem by Sandra Fowler
The Old House Rides On Morning
Caught in the bright eye of encroaching sun,
The music falls in windfalls of white fog.
Bird feather tracings of suggested flight
Hone moments to the sharpness of pale skies.
Hands interlace across a hobnailed cup.
Gray windows mirror a century of warmth.
The shabbiness of day is beautiful.
We take a picture of it with our hearts.
The old house rides on morning like a boat.
Indifferent to the turbulence of trees,
It crests the dawn with dignity intact,
And rests becalmed on seas of goldenrod.
hands interlaced across a hobnailed cup- i can actually visualise you sitting and watching the old house ride on morning- such is the impact of your absolutely stunning imagery. Warm Regards Mamta
Who other is more competent more blessed than you Sandra, to sing on the glory of 'old' houses? Beautifully composed poem...thanks...10
dear sandraji, everything old is always new.........there are no exceptions.....from art to life.... reading you is like walking through the moon all alone.........
Sandra - I am tempted to say that this is the best poem I have read but I shall not because, it would be too sweeping a statement to make for a poet of your prolificacy. Having said that I must admit - at least to me - it is definitely one your best. You have - once again - showcased your most varied and inexhaustive palette. I love the sense of paradox the line - Shabbiness of the day was beautiful - creates. The nostalgia you have expressed is like it would have been presented on the canvas of a great, sensitive artist. Beautiful! ! ! Beautiful! ! ! Beautiful! ! ! is how I would like to conclude. Leonard
I've just looked out of my window at golden rod. Thanks for giving it a new look.
The house that floats is fuelled by intense imagination; I can view it like 'Tara' of the “gone with the wind”.
Your imagery never ceases to amaze, Sandra. This poem is worth several readings. The image of the house floating first in fog and then in flowers is haunting. Perhaps we are like that house, shabby in daylight but rich in imagination. Ours is, after all, a temporary home. - Will
Your poems, like the pieces of a 1000 piece jigsaw, gradually reveal your world to the reader. And themes recur - like goldenrod and gray windows and birds that always sing in a minor key. In this one: 'The shabbiness of day is beautiful. We take a picture of it with our hearts.' is particularly eloquent. Love, Alison ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
lovely simile: ''The old house rides on morning like a boat'' wonderful descriptive poem, belonging to symbolism.....thank you for sharing.........10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 9:16:09 PM # 1.0.0.1119
You painted the Old house beautifully by your great imagery. I love this piece from end to end. My love and hugs, Meggie