Our house is upside down
in more ways than one…
I wake in “my” bedroom
also my dressing room and study
to my right, from a huge shelf
hang my unenclosed clothes
a subdued rainbow – a male palette
with chests of drawers beneath
for more clothes and craft materials
Two bookcases bracket the bed
their shelves double stacked
with precious books and on
a pile of storage containers
my to-be-read are perilously perched
next to my desk – the space beneath full
four ukuleles lean against a bookcase
yearning to be played
one shelf above them
loaded with music
The ceiling is high since
horses once resided here
and through the window
our cobbled yard is packed
with plants and trees in containers
their aspirations to growth
also kept contained
Mock Orange, Olive and Winter Jasmine
now struggling with alternating
Yorkshire rain extended and
sun and wind induced drought
Rising I go to the spacious
though windowless bathroom
also given grandeur
by the high ceilings where
I had to lower the light
for effective illumination
and after some time checking
emails and doomscrolling
on the throne
I shave and brush my teeth
before breakfast
as per the latest thinking…
I look in on my partner asleep
at last, in the other large bedroom
where I began the night
falling asleep as she listens
to her talking book and enjoys
moments of snuggling up to my back
safe now the day is over
cut off from the world
by an evil disenchantment
forced to lie in bed like Brian Wilson
she may be asleep now but she knows
I am here and will feel safer for it…
I climb the winding stair
to the living area
once the hayloft
where two doors into open air
allowed the rapid transfer
of horses’ hay at harvest-time
Now made safe with Juliet Balconies
from which we can survey
the backstreet below or
the strange sight of our
garden yard seen from above
at night all a-twinkle with
sun-powered magic
The landing at the top of the stairs
is a library where recipe books
compete for space with novels
and therapy books and all open-plan
blends seamlessly into dining table
kitchen and sitting room
all traversed by a great King-post beam
in the centre of a roof rising
to twelve feet above me
I breakfast to the awful news
from Al Jazeera garnered
from around the world
and enough to make me as
depressed as my partner
if I were not able
to take action in polemic poems…
And so I descend to my study
and open the computer and work
at what the day provides
en route I note the cobwebs
and dust on the stairs
and when they get too bad
I will sweep them away
but not today
our house is upside down
in more ways than one…
© Andrew Wilson, 2025
Over at dVerse Poets Pub, Melissa Lemay in Poetics invites us to write a poem “wandering from room to room like a man in a museum.”