Friday, October 23, 2009

Dollhouse

The gingerbread trim and purple gable make this house seem like something out of a fairy tale. And since it's getting closer to Halloween, perhaps a tale like this, from poet John Reibetanz:

The Finger Puppets in the Attic Dollhouse

If they, more petite
than the mice whose flittings
have pillaged their robes’ sparkled trim,

stood tiptoe
on the plumped felt tops
of their thimble-sized footstools

to scrutinize
the worn fabric
of this room’s blue distances,

would they locate
the source of lightning bolts
in our faces’ wrinkled pleats

and construe the stars’
dance from the tattered
embroidery of our steps,

or find in our seamless
unravelling years
the tissue of apocalypse?

14 comments:

Cafe Pasadena said...

This house is also making me hungry. So, 4 me it may as well be called an International House of Pancakes.

Brenda's Arizona said...

Love the poem. You can read the first line of each stanza and get the story! I wonder if Anne (of Seven Gables) is around? Or maybe Hansel & Gretel. Either way, I bet they love living here.

Dixie Jane said...

Once upon a time there was a house painted with my favorite colors from the Crayola box! And isn't this a magical storybook house? I'm trying to envision what the people look like who live there. And aren't they anything but timid with their color selection.All pale and soft and appealing. Adorable, Laurie.

Judy Williams said...

WOW - I bow down to anyone who phrases "tissue of apocalypse" at the end of a poem. That is fabulous.

Kaori said...

You have such lovely houses in South Pas! I love all the bright colors! Wonder if someone painted it all at once or if it was done gradually by different owners?

Virginia said...

Well this may be my fav house yet in So Pas. The poem is a wonderful addition as always.
V

Hilda said...

My nieces would definitely love this house! Fantastic!

Jilly said...

Such a pretty house with beautiful wrought iron - lace work as I remember it being called in Paddington, Sydney, Oz. Lacework really seems to fit that pretty work over the steps. Be fascinating to know who lives here, wouldn't it? Love the poem.

Yakpate said...

I love the way the tall, lacy trees seem to lean into the house, as if they are cradling it.

And as for the amazing poem, and the amazing last line, "tissue of apocalypse:" I can't think of better praise than Judy's!

Margaret said...

Wrinkled pleats. I love that.

alexlau said...

What an appropriate poem for this house! I've always loved driving past it on Monterey Rd on the way to school, though back in the day it had a red color palette as opposed to the current purple scheme. I also recall a rooster atop the roof in the past, I see that he's been replaced.

altadenahiker said...

How do you know all this stuff!! Swear I've never heard that poem before. Love, love the house.

Laurie said...

Hi everyone,

Isn't this place just wonderful? I have never seen anyone coming or going... so, of course I'm convinced it is inhabited by elves or fairies or at least a really pixillated recluse with a great collection of teacups.

Thank you for the lovely comments. Catch you tomorrow!

TheChieftess said...

I like the idea of the pixillated recluse living here...I envision a couple of old ladie circa Arsenic and Old Lace!!!