This last piece I'll share tonight is also a work in progress, but I am very fond of it so far. It was started from a prompt that successful poet, Ethan Rivera, gave my class. We were to think of a room in a house that we don't live in, think of five objects in that room, and write a descriptive statement about each object. Then, using the descriptions, we were supposed to describe the room without naming any of the objects.
My Old Home
A dirty brown linoleum floor.
A pile of wrinkled cloth slumped in the corner.
In this dark, damp room,
Don’t plan on cleaning anything,
For these knobs haven’t been turned in ten years.
An old bar of soap has fused to the porcelain,
A ring of rust around the drain.
Along one wall, there is a cockroach’s home
And a thick layer of dust cloaking the white metal.
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