by Paul Burgess
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AI-generated graphic by NightCafé for The New Verse News. |
To get the house of which I'd dreamed,
The fastest route, or so it seemed,
Was knocking down each door and wall,
Destroying ceiling, den, and hall.
With wrecking ball, I'd swiftly smash
And relish every violent crash.
The pile of rubble where I stand
Was all I'd thought about or planned.
Rebuilding seemed the easy part,
But now I wonder where to start.
I'd barely planned the building's frame,
But bragged I'd surely put to shame
The house in which I'd lived before,
Yet now, I've got no roof, no door,
No wires, no pipes, but just a heap
Of rubble where I'll have to sleep.
The fastest route, or so it seemed,
Was knocking down each door and wall,
Destroying ceiling, den, and hall.
With wrecking ball, I'd swiftly smash
And relish every violent crash.
The pile of rubble where I stand
Was all I'd thought about or planned.
Rebuilding seemed the easy part,
But now I wonder where to start.
I'd barely planned the building's frame,
But bragged I'd surely put to shame
The house in which I'd lived before,
Yet now, I've got no roof, no door,
No wires, no pipes, but just a heap
Of rubble where I'll have to sleep.
Paul Burgess lives in Lexington, Kentucky. He is the sole proprietor of a business that offers ESL, translation, and interpretation services. He speaks several languages fluently. When not writing strange poems, he enjoys playing guitar, reading, and hiking. He has contributed poems to Blue Unicorn, The Orchards, Parody, Lighten Up Online, Dirigible Balloon, The New Verse News, OEDILF, and other poetry publications.
