canadian author / canadian poetry / maritime authors / natasha head / nova scotia author / poetry by natasha head / poetry by tashtoo / tashtoo

This Old House ~ For One Shot Wednesday


This Old House

Where trains and transfers rumble by
And shake the very walls
Where in the sunporch we could hide
Delivering cat calls
In kitchen yellowed by the sun
Next door to hardware store
Where we played with caps and guns
Googly~eyed, we were at war
Where Christmases were sometimes lean
And kid sisters got in the way
Where the band would jam fast and mean
And tequila made us sway
Where pool side the boys would sneak
Into the darkened night
Hide in the bushes to take a peak
And fill us girls with fright
Where dreams and demons interlaced
Teenage angst placed on the shelf
It’s in this house I found my pen
And somehow found myself.
Grounded for weeks for mohawks sake
And god forbid, the first tattoo
Heavy Metal, and gonja nights
Skunk weed and Timbuktu.
For the nights I can’t remember
And for the days so long ago
It’s hard to believe after all these years
I’m finally coming home.
This old house has been kept waiting
As though it’s always known
That sooner or later, Queen of the damned
Would be returning home

This is my offering for this weeks Oneshot Wednesday at Onestoppoetry.  Right in the middle of moving house, inspiration has been hard to come by, but for those of you who are wondering where I’m moving to?  I’m going home! I have been blessed with the opportunity to return to the house where I discovered so many things (yes…good and bad!) but, most importantly, I discovered poetry, writing, and the cheapest form of therapy around.  To the Lizard King I humbly bow…Happy OneshotWednesday!

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25 thoughts on “This Old House ~ For One Shot Wednesday

  1. the speaker here, if a personal piece even more so is lucky. "you really can go home again" to many of us don't have those places to return to. great job, natashabummy / Monty

  2. 'Where dreams and demons interlacedTeenage angst placed on the shelfIt's in this house I found my penAnd somehow found myself.'Wow!Natasha,this is seriously brilliant. A truly evocative and very meaningful poem which conjures so many similar memories from my own childhood.A great write. James.

  3. There's a universality here that speaks across the specific references and makes this great. You're telling your story and echoing the story of us all; both too familiar and a glimpse another's life at the same time. Your catharsis becomes ours, as all those events both savored, regretted, and in-between make us who we are. Sometimes, what appears moving backward is moving forward. For this reader, after taking this retrospective journey with you, I wonder if that's what your new/old home has always known, along with the fact that even for the Queen of the Damned (Rice reference?), there is redemption. Deep and reflective as, always, but also brave and hopeful.

  4. Queen of the Damned are you?..lol….another very nice tale weaving in all kinds of past acts bringing it into the here and now and that's the lets face it facts..hahaMust be rather interesting moving into your old house though.

  5. full of memories, games and fun – and a real home…cool you can go back there and glad you found the pen already in your youth…i wish i had discovered writing earlier…it's indeed the cheapest kind of therapy..

  6. It sounds you you're so happy to be returning to this place. It has brought forth honest and vividly expressed memories, for which we are all grateful. Some of us can't go back to our old homes. They're either not there or too dangerous now (in my case). But I can live that feeling through you and your lovely poem. Thank you, Natasha.(Doors fan or just Morrison? Oh, silly question.)

  7. What a great trip through your memories all the dreams that were and have been – the homecoming is always so heartwarming…love the cadence of the Natasha….blessings..bkm

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