Trapped

His lips form
soft syllables,
reciting poetry,
by the inglenook fireplace –

I mustn’t leave,
he has warned,
not with the snow
and global pandemic.

I can’t escape the front door…
but his voice soothes,
in metrical rhythm,

while pine logs crackle
into the night.

Linda is hosting dVerse Quadrille tonight, and she has challenged us to write a poem of exactly 44 words including the word inglenook.

28 thoughts on “Trapped

  1. Oh, I love this so very much. These lines stood out to me the most:

    “His lips form
    soft syllables,
    reciting poetry…”

    This is mesmerizing, haunting, and it puts your reading in a trance. There’s the urgency and then a gentle lull that washes over. Beautifully written. ❤ ❤

    • Thanks, Helen! Probably not much danger here, but would be funny to turn this story into something more suspenseful. Like the movie Suspicion with Cary Grant, I could make her wonder about him, hmm.

  2. I love the inglenook in the image – a wonderful place to watch ‘His lips form soft syllables, reciting poetry’. Although, I am concerned about the undertone of danger in the warning not to leave and not being able to escape.

  3. This is absolutely mesmerizing! 💝 I so love the image of “reciting poetry,
    by the inglenook fireplace.” I wouldn’t blame her if she doesn’t leave 😉

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