A Yorkshire Mansion

A piece of writing can be scary and exciting at the same time.

A godly presence 

With a sensual touch

Light footsteps

Breath...

Just breath

.

.

.

A shiny black door

A strange creature

Holding a one and a zero 

A cruel look into my eyes

Neat cuts so deep

This is my home

Sharp and formal 

The motivational drive

A powerful lead

A royal blue, I seek

I’m within your insight

So burn me with your warmest light

Welcome me in

Let the horror speak

Inside this torment

I was a leader

Now I walk upon the Yorkshire ground 

Find me standing on grassy hills

A voice, I hear 

Speaking towards me 

Come here 

I see it now

Pull me in 

Too absorbed to let me go

Fill me with your words

I’ll be your blank, vivid canvass

Or a fresh, lined page 

I found you...

Crept inside my solid, open door

That last, starry night

I’ll treat you

As long as you don’t finish this piece 

This madness

Is still written about me 

I walk up these stairs 

Light fading into darkness

I’m watching you from afar

Follow, follow 

This is not your death just yet

I haven’t risen from the hell

It was all over the street

Back downing 

I’m glue 

Sticking to you

Race me 

Every vote counts 

And the end is near

Reach out 

Don’t let me get away

Crawl into my garden

Stare through the window

I’m in a mansion 

A few miles 

And we are through...

Author's Note

A dark, crystal edge for the owner of a country manor in North Yorkshire.

Mind-blowing consciousness.

Reviews

[Thomas W Case]

tREMENDOUS WORK. pOWERFUL WORK.

[R E Tree]

Thank you for taking your time to read my poem.

[R J Askew]

My, my, the menace, delicious menace. This bears reading and re-reading to commune properly with it, there being many a twist within it. I am taken with the one and zero. Will think on ... and ... on

[R E Tree]

It’s a two digit number. 😉

The number 10.
Shiny black door.
It was over the street
Back downing.