the Box Room

The box room was always full of dust
it settled in between the pillars of assorted trunks
piles of coloured cases all stored aboard
like us children for long stretches of school term.
I loved the smell of it, the grime of years penetrating
deep into wood panels and the way particles flew fairy-like
each time another box was stacked, tiny motes lit by the one
small attic window. Here was an Aladdin’s cave
of far away places, baggage stuck with colourful labels
foreign countries I knew only from my stamp album
and the pink-filled world map of a sun-setting Empire.

My trunk was post-box red with leather corners
loitering in the silent dark like a forgotten go-between
’til at term’s end the room was suddenly flung open
for a scrabble and scramble invasion
luggage laughingly located, lugged and slid
down the inclined ramp, owners following
gymslips flying, regardless of splinters
we packed feverishly, flinging possessions pell-mell
anticipating the haulage truck’s arrival, and away
our baggage would go, before us, homeward bound.

The box room vacant again, its dust unperturbed
and the ghost trapped within, sighing amongst spiders.

A plain and simple poem from me for a change and one for my Poetics Prompt : Room(s)

the shape of water

Remembering that I bought my 30mm lens for close-ups and so with time on my hands, I pointed the camera at water spouts in a miniature fountain.

 water should not be flat water should not be smooth water should not be empty water should not have a shape there is no shape of water

The Shape of Water ~ Guillermo del Toro

Honing in on the Zone

More than a door, this opening
we do not simply enter but go by the way
of wings, a jump, a tumble even
the slip sliding launch: Gangway!
and then such strangeness
in upended elements; time lingers
with bated breath, long enough
to catch alight in a blue flame
to sink to the seabed, like a leaf
to grow in an earth of glories
to think – and so the door opens
we do not simply leave but go by the way
of shock, a leap of logic, a slap even
and all thoughts of the portal vanish

For this Tuesday's Poetics prompt, I followed Anamol through the Portal