Analysis of Bush House, a Salem Tale
The older docent glares at me
as she sees me enter, coke classic, in hand
If my other hand did not hold a ticket,
I’m sure she would refuse me.
She directs me to pour the liquid out, stipulating
the house is a museum
full of heirlooms of another age.
We compromise,
my thirst left in the étagère in the hall;
this is how I spend my Mothers Day,
listening for old houses to whisper to me,
tell me their stories and memories.
Today I'm listening to Asahel's and indeed,
the lean efficient docent tells his tale,
and that of Estelle, of Asahel the Third,
of doting Sally …
“The docent won’t speak of me,” whispers the girl
standing in the sitting room
“She’ll show you my room
boast of its sink and marble fireplace.
Just as in any room, talk of the quilt,
the empty dresses on display;
I’m not an heirloom she tell.
I didn’t live here, you see,
not until I was fifty-three.
I dreamed of here, my loved ones
encased within its walls
And papa ... busy papa, sad papa.
Sally brought me home too late
I missed him. Still do”
The group moved on into the Study,
and the girl shadowed behind.
As they peered at old photographs, she
tinkered with the thermostat on the wall -
too focused on it for me to know it is her concern –
“There’s a genealogy chart in the next room …
I missed it. I missed them all.”
As the group filed out dutifully - like children
under the charge of a stern governess
or patients under the custody
a burly orderly -
Eugenia noiselessly stood there in the doorway,
sizing me up as if for eternity
“You know what I mean, kindred spirit.
You will, too. If you’re sent to Boston,
I’ll share the house with you.”
And with a decided nod, she stepped to the side,
“Let’s walk together, shall we?
It’s nice not to be alone;
I’m so glad it’s tour day
She usually ends by playing a tube on the organ,
If we’ll lucky, Sally sometimes visits then.”
Scheme | AXBAXXXXCDAXXXXA XE EXXDX AAXXXXF AXACXEC GXAADABGF XAXDGX |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 01010111 11111011001 11101111010 1111011 1011110101100 0110010 11110101 110 1110011001 111111101 100111011011 111100100 01110011001 0101010111 011011101 11010 01011111001 1000101 11111 111101010 1101011101 01010101 111111 111111 10111101 1111111 010111 0101010110 1011111 11111 011101010 0011001 11111101 101010101 11011111111001 10010010011 1111111 101111000110 1001101100 110100100 010100 100111001 10111110100 111111010 111111110 110111 01010111101 1101011 1111101 111111 110001110011010 11101001101 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 1,864 |
Words | 358 |
Sentences | 18 |
Stanzas | 7 |
Stanza Lengths | 16, 2, 5, 7, 7, 9, 6 |
Lines Amount | 52 |
Letters per line (avg) | 27 |
Words per line (avg) | 7 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 202 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 51 |
About this poem
Published in Write The Town 2016. Mid-Valley Poets Society.2016. A ghost story about Bush House, Salem Oregon
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Written on May 08, 2016
Submitted by Ariel on September 19, 2021
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 1:48 min read
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"Bush House, a Salem Tale" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 11 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/109940/bush-house%2C-a-salem-tale>.
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