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18th August, 2023

Friday Poem – ‘Ernest Morgan’s House’ by John Powell Ward

Closeup photograph of an old book, oil lamp and an antique pair of glasses sitting on a desk

This week’s Friday Poem is ‘Ernest Morgan’s House’ by John Powell Ward from his newly publish collection Last Poem for Sarah & Other Poems.

Ernest Morgan’s House
This was Ernest Morgan’s house. Today
It is his skull, the growing crowd
Has moved in through the cracks, fills hall
And stairs, spills out of windows, breathing
His final breath in the tiniest corner. Aloof
The belted truth of the auctioneer, but they
Go past him, they seek secrets of
The realm this old recluse had left, who felt
Dear man he had no friend; untruly,
Unrightly. It happened like this:
Missing the man whose absence let them in,
Cramming the rooms he’d sat in bolt, alone,
Guarding so close the voids his leaving left,
His lifetime done. Suns sets, and time
Forever leans on Ernest Morgan’s grave.