The muse alighted on my shoulder and asked,
“Do you really want a home built on stone?”
I thought only a moment. “Not anymore.”
“Surely not one built on sand or in the trees?”
“God forbid, and that goes for one on wheels.”
She asked, “Where do you feel most at home?”
(Knowing full-well where.) “On fresh water.”
She shall be a water-faring vessel the likes of which
has never been seen. Her bottom made of fiberglass,
flat, but with a keel for steering that is retractable to keep
anchoring shallow or beaching a smooth feat.
Her deck will be wide and long, portside equipped
for hydroponics, batteries, and water processing;
starboard will have a tiki bar and hammocks.
She’ll have her walls made of bamboo, to keep her light,
dotted with portholes to keep her airy, and a secure lock
on the door in case of vagrants, pirates, and the like.
Her roof is airtight and fitted with solar panels
that generate enough power to keep reading lights,
computer, fridge, cooktop, and electric motor running.
Her solar-cell fitted sails also help keep her moving.
She’ll navigate the Great Lakes and connected inlands.
In late fall, she’s hauled into heated storage until Spring.
image, which doesn’t look at all like what I envisioned, is still close enough to use.
Laura is today’s host of dVerse’ Poetics. Laura says:
For this Poetics Prompt I want us to be voyeurs, peeping through windows and doors of a house One that has no family connections, no memories of our own to call upon .
- conjure an imaginary house of any size, any place, any age
- fill it with an imaginary person/people past or present, or ghosts, or leave it empty with its history
- make it literal but move into the metaphorical if you wish
If you find it hard to imagine then use a picture of a house (exterior or interior) and write an ekphrastic or select a house in your neighbourhood, or a historic place, or one from a book or film but reinvent its history, story or narrative.