She enters the hallway of her thoughts
where blurred artifacts surround her dreams
wondering where she really resides...
beautifuly written...heather
nice title

Oh, hit me where I live. I am once again experiencing empty nest syndrome and it feels like this. xxx

Words that hit a definite nerve with me at present...
Excellent...

Hugs, Diana..

she stares into her dusty dollhouse
mimicking the unusual character of her life,
structured by props and precarious supports


These are sobering words, Jude. I found myself relating to them in a way. It can be messy when those supports come tumbling down. Great piece!
Sheila

jude, you hit a note from the past for me, too. "doll house" is beautifully crafted, and i am very impressed with your empathic connection with the emotions of this young woman at that moment. ~leslie

Good to have you back. My second cousin, Jean Pauken, a wannabe starlette with Bette Davis eyes came immediately to mind.

Ron

Jude,
You always seem to hit a nerve or feeling with your poetry.
There are times in our lives, that we all question where our hearts and homes are. Sometimes when we least expect it, we find our answers. The Universe works in mysterious ways, never being quite blunt but always being elusive so that we have to figure out our answers for ourselves. Sometimes just letting go of the past releases us to the present and toward the future.

Doll House is metaphorically written extremely well.

Good To see you back in the den. Come back sooner rather than later!

Missed your presence for sure. Hope all is better with those eyes!

Peace, light, and love,
Amber

Amazing: just what I was saying to myself a couple of days' ago, as I flicked a duster about in readiness for another time away: "How I love my doll's house!" :)) Actually, something about this resonates, like it's a wintry version of or sequel to Where Love Resides, somehow. You know how my brain works. And this poem works so well on both actual and metaphorical planes with strong images couched in abstract mood and sensation. To me it plays on our notions of Home: is it a place, a state of being, a faith or future hope? A quest? What exactly IS Home? Yet the old truism we know instinctively to be correct: Home Is Where The Heart Is. And that is perhaps why so many of us who have never yet known that sense or anchorage continue to grapple with exactly WHAT constitutes this so familiar yet often elusive concept: we are restless spirits.

Whatever. I know my life is beautiful and with elements of strong fulfillment and faith within it ... yet still I keep on the move. Hence you might spot me, a face (or two??!!) in the crowd at the St Patrick's Day Parade next Wednesday: I shall be the person(s) in the hairy green sweater! :))

Great story-poem, Senor, which like all good narrative allows us to be drawn in and to make extrapolations according to personal experience. Love the big font which also helps my current blurry vision (better than these trifocal/astigmatic lenses do at any rate!) An ambitious and well-developped poetic script that fanfares your entry once again onto the Board here, Kartero. Double vision externally, keen doubled-edged sharpness of perceptivity and insight within. I do so hope and trust the prisms and therapy are working for you. Come back again soon! You know your presence here is missed. baKpaK Kate xx

The ceremonial flushing away of a life well worn, resolved for something new! x Ch'erie

As children, our world is filled with...

Love,
Laughter,
Dreams.

Seems a shame we lose these things as we grow older and colder with time.

Wonderfully crafted.

an amazing snapshot view into this woman's condition

Great visuals, almost feels like I am gazing in a doll house,,masterful Jude~

House of dolls and a little bottle full of pills...tomorrow.

Georg

Very nicely done, Jude.

Hello Jude:

First of all, I was attracted to your title, and then it gave me great pleasure to read this fantastic poem.

This poem is storytelling. There are so many things that could have written in the readers' mind as they read through these corridors. Great metaphoric write!! I especially love that ending!

Sandie Angel :o)

there is great depth and sadness here as i fear i can relate! well written

Emotional landscapes of memory.

Axilea

An idealist at the end

To look into the mirror of our life's reality is often a shock to our system that either destroys us or makes us stroger. Excellant capture Jude....
Fee

...the pains of memory and change and the effort of finding ourselves again after innocence no longer satisfies. Luv the strength and quiet confidence in the writing.
Hope all is well with you, Jude.

John

Not wanting things to remain as they were, a change is a must if only in her mind. Another great write Jude.

Newfie hugs, Rose

Ghosts and more Ghosts in the ether of mistique , wonderful write Jude. Blessings! Jasmin Horst

Truly moving; Jude. Your imagery and symbolism are superb. Love and peace,

Regis

Twilight Zone in the making here, Jude. Reality superseded with artifacts of then as opposed to now. On another line in the sand she could be looking out from within the dollhouse and seeing herself rearranging things which has caused her joy over here, things which have caused her pain over there, and she must be wondering what will she do with her when she get that far in the rearranging. Okay, Jude, got carried away here. Your fault. Poem was that good.

"she enters the hallway of her thoughts-where blurred artifacts surround her dreams,wondering where she really resides". true to life. life being nothing more than pictures in the head. in what level of fiction do we allow ourselves to live? the deeper the fiction, the greater the disappointment it would seem--early on. when those dreams are unrealized, we tread in reality for short moments swallowing bitter pills, which eventually put us back into the self-imposed wonderland as a form of escapism. great philosophical ponderings you put forward here.

It is a question of whether it is a blessing or a curse that she is rebuilding new ideas. Seemingly, the only happy times were long ago and she now lives in a cloud of ashes of what used to be. I truly love this piece, Jude; it is in so many ways along the lines of something I would have written, of course with the added touches of Jude mastery. I also can't help but wonder if your clouded or blurred vision, of late, hasn't painted a backdrop to this poem. Wonderful writing that appeals to me on so many levels and makes me wish I had time to pick up my pen. I hope you are doing better, my friend, certainly your writing skills have not become rusty in the time you have been away.

Take care,

Sherry

Nicely written - speaks (to me) much of seeing your life for what it is, or what it isn't, and still being compelled to press forward in faith to rejigger it and make it better. hope all is well!
richard

Jude,

I like this. Sometimes you remind me of a muse of mine from England (he's passed over at this time) Richard Zola - if you look his work up you might find it interesting.

Over the years your art has really become just that - artistic words to befit the reader.

Of course, this is a somber piece, but leaves with the hope of new ideas and that is great in a reflective piece - I believe. Well timed transitions in thoughts and visuals of a day in the life of a day in the life.

Thank you, ~D.