An Empty House Remembers (sonnet)

The empty house around me ticks and creaks,
A moody end to evening's gentle rains,
A brooding quiet as the daylight wanes,
The secret language empty houses speak.

What stories might this house preserve entire
In rhythmic code composed of click and groan?
Does House recall a sadness with each moan?
Is laughter stored in every plank and wire?

And how might I, a fleeting visitor,
Acquire an ear for stories trapped in time,
And wrap a tale or two in words and rhyme?
How can I tap the House's secret lore?

In silence soft the house slips off to sleep.
Alone I sit, in darkness vast and deep.
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Written in a moment when I was alone, listening to the rain patter down off a roof in an empty house.

Brilliant title, beautifully carried out by the body of the poem!!!

Why thank you! That was one of those euphoric moments I get now and then. The poem was meant to help me remember it.

Is that you with the lovely babe in arms in the picture?

Quote:

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Originally Posted by thegitksan

Why thank you! That was one of those euphoric moments I get now and then. The poem was meant to help me remember it.

Is that you with the lovely babe in arms in the picture?

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Oh no, that's my daugter-in-law Maggie and her younger child, Lucy. I've written about that poem elsewhere

This sonnet captures perfectly the melancholy beauty of a rainy evening in an empty house. I love the bit of the "rhythmic code composed of click and groan" and think you did wrap House's secret story in wonderful words and rhyme.

Nice. The words seem chosen carefully for maximum effect.:thumbs_up

Nicely done. If I have any qualms it's that the language just sounds like that of a previous era. But it's done perfectly. :)