Sunday, 8 June 2014

Alice on the walls.

fusty bedroom filled with trash
paint on the floor 
jars filled with ash
Bowie on repeat and Alice on the walls
remembering days 
as our good times rolled

late morning sleep ins
the house is empty
gate crashing losers
getting it on plenty
Bowie on repeat and Alice on the walls
feeling the world at our feet
as rainbows soared

out in the night
past the owls and the horse
stumbling through hay barns
as the music roared 
Bowie on repeat and Alice on the walls
pitch black fumbling
ripped lace then nothing at all.

KD  8/6/14

My father wouldn't let us have a record player but we did have a reel to reel deck.....happy memories.
The Mag with Tess HERE


  1. I love your opening with the word, "fusty." Great progression with your one line refrain. I can imagine this one set to music. Kudos!

  2. I love your poem! I love how you repeated that line... and described the scenes so perfectly!

  3. Oh yes, Kay, that feeling of having the world at our feet!

  4. I really like this wander back to your childhood room, Kay.

  5. Happy memories - we all rewind sometimes.
    Had my first go in the group this week.
    Best wishes ~ Eddie

  6. Hello your ode to childhood memories. A lovely write indeed.


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