The way to my house
snakes along the ridges of lush mountains
in the space-time continuum
of past, present and what’s yet unknown
to that specific point at the edge of an abyss.
The path to my house
sometimes clings closer to chaos
and sometimes leads through summer
symphonies of sun-drunk blackbirds,
opening up a canvas door to the north.
The route to my house
takes me through ghost towns left by
delusional gold diggers who spent
their hard-owned gold on booze and bordellos,
spilling what’s left to the earth..
The road to my house
is mapped in (yet) unknown stanzas
found in the deep recesses
of the library-labyrinth formed from
desert secrets, intestines and ink.
The street to my house
ends in a cul-de-sac without a name
where I will meet you if you make it,
with warmth from whisky and wine, and later
, later I might tell you how to find your way(s).
M.C. Escher
Today Laura hosts dVerse MTB and want us to write poems celebrating five as it is the 5th of October today taking inspiration of the poet Juan Filipe Herrera and his poem “Five Directions to my house”. These are the rules:
- write your poem in five stanzas of five lines per stanza (quintain)
- write as a Pentastich Quintain (unregulated rhyme, meter etc)
- each stanza is one of five ways to your house (real or imaginary)
- can be literal or metaphorical, measured in time, direction, etc or a mix
- the title is your own choice but must begin: “Five…………”
- include a reference to Hererra’s poem somewhere in your post
I have chosen to include references to Herrerra’s poem by including the follow words in order in each of my stanzas: 1 yellow hills; 2 canvas door; 3 the earth; 4 desert secrets 5 a name.
October 5, 2023
Björn Rudbergs writings 
I’m not sure which stanza is my favorite.❤️
It does not really matter, all the stanzas leads home
I love that the first way is through time and space, Björn, and that the second ‘sometimes leads through summer /symphonies of sun-drunk blackbirds’ – sibilance enhances this, making it sparkle. My favourite:
‘The road to my house
is mapped in (yet) unknown stanzas
found in the deep recesses
of the library-labyrinth’ – I knew I’d find the librarian in there somewhere!
Of course there had to be a way through the books.
these directions home are labyrinthine and so intricate – I took the path because every line was inviting
Great choice… but it may be a slippery path.
Love the first stanza. The house set in a place outside time.
Nice obe Björn.
Much💛love
This is gorgeous.
I love this section:
“summer
symphonies of sun-drunk blackbirds,
opening up a canvas door to the north”
Also “intestines and ink.”
I had a lot of fun writing it… it seemed like I was drawing the map as I did it.
Perfect map to the heart of this poem
The way to my house
snakes along the ridges of lush mountains
in the space-time continuum
of past, present and what’s yet unknown
to that specific point at the edge of an abyss.
This so reminds me of the road to my daughter’s home, upon a mountain top.
Each stanza so familiar to me. 💙
I’m lingering in the joy that the route to your house goes through Alaska and California in my mind. Which I could take a train or ferry to . . . and a black hole/ dimensional portal. 😁
(yet) unknown stanzas
found in the deep recesses
of the library-labyrinth formed from
desert secrets, intestines and ink…. wonderfully written poem… enjoyed this road especially!!!
I’m imagining a 3D map of the routes to your house. It would make a great jigsaw puzzle 🙂 4th stanza is my fave.
Beautiful last stanza and captivating image!
“mapped in (yet) unknown stanzas
found in the deep recesses
of the library-labyrinth formed from
desert secrets, intestines and ink.”
This stopped me in my tracks on the way to your door, Bjorn!
Those intestines – now they could tell a story or three! The juxtaposition of “desert secrets”, “intestines” and “ink” puts me in the mind of a skulking sepia, the cephalopod cuttlefish with its clouds of obscurating ink…
Also intestines of annimals has been known to be used in predicting the future.
really nice! quite sexy.
well, not the intestines part. 😉
The street to my house
ends in a cul-de-sac without a name
where I will meet you if you make it,
I wonder if I can.
I really like this one, Björn, the real and surreal–and the library-labyrinth. So many wonderful lines in this one. I think it’s one of your best.
You take us on a journey which has no certain root in time or place except that it leads home…
I like the repetition, but I love how you bring the reader into the last stanza. (K)
I love how you jump between the concrete and the conceptual – time and history as important as rocks and the sun drunk birds.
I love the way in which you mixed the sentiments of the past, the future, and the many presents, and this was my favourite part :”The road to my house
is mapped in (yet) unknown stanzas
found in the deep recesses
of the library-labyrinth formed from
desert secrets, intestines and ink.” – the combination of the materials at the stanza’s end is surreal in nature yet so palpable.
There are many roads and I felt invited in by each of yours. Humans are complicated. Reflecting this stanza back to you. It was so fitting.
“The road to my house
is mapped in (yet) unknown stanzas
found in the deep recesses
of the library-labyrinth formed from
desert secrets, intestines and ink.”