Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BRICK-DUST, by LOUISE BROOKE


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

BRICK-DUST, by                    
First Line: It's just a heap of ruin
Last Line: A little dream that died.
Subject(s): Home


It's just a heap of ruin,
A drunken brick carouse --
This thing my spirit grew in
That once was called a house.

An attic where I scribbled
Through baking summer days,
While street-pianos nibbled
At the patient Marseillaise.

The spider-landlord squatted
In a web of dinner-smells,
And people slowly rotted
In little gossip-hells.

I hated all I learned there--
And yet I could have cried
For a little oil I burned there,
A little dream that died.






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