My home’s my castle

From floor to ceiling
bookshelves and a fireplace.
words for healing
with a glass of wine and jazz.

My house is poetry.
I am warden of its books and garden,
woodland lilacs and a pond with frogs.
It’s warm in winter and in summer
muslin curtains billow crossbreeze cool.

My house has bulwarks, turrets and
a private moat.
There are rooms for dreams,
rooms to meet and sing,
rooms for everything.
Acres for a lake with boat and
constant sun.

I need a country kitchen too,
for apple pies and Sunday steak,
for having breakfast served at noon.

My home’s a castle,
a place to live, a place to die.
but late at night I dream of giving up
to fault my mortgage
for a mountain trail
for your giggles
when we pitch our tent at night.

Lake with castle on a hill by Joseph Wright

Today at dVerse Sarah guest prompt us and asks us to write poetry about our dream house… imagine how would you build it…but maybe in the end I want a tent.

March 7, 2017

25 responses to “My home’s my castle

  1. I love your tongue-in-cheek lightness with this piece, brother. You are demonstrating that we all can let the dogs of creativity off leash–but even with grandiose fantasies afoot, I appreciate your pragmatic inclusion of canvas & mountain trail; smile.

  2. I imagine this to be the Librarian’s house, Björn, when he’s not at the library. I can just see him letting his hair down with a glass of wine and jazz!

  3. I love the castle with a room filled with books and for everything ~ Fault a mortgage and live in a tent, sure ~ My house is poetry, is my favorite line ~

  4. I too think this is where your librarian would live. And yes, the last lines of your poem ring so true….how you would trade it all for her giggles. This made me smile hugely.

  5. this was pretty, a house for the day and a tent for the night, both I am sure filled with giggles and delight, love a house with lots of books

  6. Oh, that last stanza. Yes. I often dream of ditching this joint after the kids are in college, and become gypsy writers by the sea. Sigh.

  7. I don’t care which one your living in, castle or tnet. Just don’t call me late for breakfast. Steak and pie sounds really nice. I’ll wash dishes too

  8. So much to relate to here.
    “words for healing” and “rooms for dreams”…topped off with “a pond with frogs”…who could want for anything else? Love this one.

  9. There’s a certain sense of freedom that a tent can provide, which rigidity of a house/castle can’t provide. As the words flow, from your pen/keyboard, Bjorn.

  10. “My house is poetry” … I am certain it is. Love the image of muslin curtains blowing in the breezes And oh how I wish we could get back to our tent camping days. George’s back says no to that anymore but sometimes when I hear the rain ping on a roof or hear it splash, I think of the sound it made hitting our secure tent as we honkered down in our sleeping bags, always zipped together ❤🎉So I really relate to those giggles in the end!

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