Poems about house



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№ 1209558

Full House

Pick a card, any card;
Let's see if fortune is on your side tonight.

The first hand is dealt,
The red king upon his throne of paper.

Lay down your savings,
The black queen hands out dead flowers.

Another round is set up,
Your new friend jack is eager to play again.

An unreadable face,
So many hearts just waiting to be broken.

The truth or a bluff,
The clubs aren't really that fussed.

Dancing with lady luck,
Diamonds shimmer in pools of crimson.

Empires of paper and ink,
A growing hunger for the ace of spades.

A sleight of hand,
A prison of endless numbers and shapes.

Your luck runs out,
The joker slaps you on the back and laughs.


full,  house.

Author: Alex Crilly-Mckean
+0-
Date: 06/04/2020


№ 1209557

The House Of Dust: Part 03: 09: Cabaret

We sit together and talk, or smoke in silence.
You say (but use no words) 'this night is passing
As other nights when we are dead will pass. . . '
Perhaps I misconstrue you: you mean only,
'How deathly pale my face looks in that glass. . . '

You say: 'We sit and talk, of things important. . .
How many others like ourselves, this instant,
Mark the pendulum swinging against the wall?
How many others, laughing, sip their coffee--
Or stare at mirrors, and do not talk at all? . . .

'This is the moment' (so you would say, in silence)
When suddenly we have had too much of laughter:
And a freezing stillness falls, no word to say.
Our mouths feel foolish. . . For all the days hereafter
What have we saved--what news, what tune, what play?

'We see each other as vain and futile tricksters, --
Posturing like bald apes before a mirror;
No pity dims our eyes. . .
How many others, like ourselves, this instant,
See how the great world wizens, and are wise? . . . '

Well, you are right. . . No doubt, they fall, these seconds. . .
When suddenly all's distempered, vacuous, ugly,
And even those most like angels creep for schemes.
The one you love leans forward, smiles, deceives you,
Opens a door through which you see dark dreams.

But this is momentary. . . or else, enduring,
Leads you with devious eyes through mists and poisons
To horrible chaos, or suicide, or crime. . .
And all these others who at your conjuration
Grow pale, feeling the skeleton touch of time, --

Or, laughing sadly, talk of things important,
Or stare at mirrors, startled to see their faces,
Or drown in the waveless vacuum of their days, --
Suddenly, as from sleep, awake, forgetting
This nauseous dream; take up their accustomed ways,

Exhume the ghost of a joke, renew loud laughter,
Forget the moles above their sweethearts' eyebrows,
Lean to the music, rise,
And dance once more in a rose-festooned illusion
With kindness in their eyes. . .

They say (as we ourselves have said, remember)
'What wizardry this slow waltz works upon us!
And how it brings to mind forgotten things! '
They say 'How strange it is that one such evening
Can wake vague memories of so many springs! '

And so they go. . . In a thousand crowded places,
They sit to smile and talk, or rise to ragtime,
And, for their pleasures, agree or disagree.
With secret symbols they play on secret passions.
With cunning eyes they see

The innocent word that sets remembrance trembling,
The dubious word that sets the scared heart beating. . .
The pendulum on the wall
Shakes down seconds. . . They laugh at time, dissembling;
Or coil for a victim and do not talk at all.


cabaret,  dust,  house.

Author: Conrad Aiken
+0-
Date: 06/04/2020

№ 1208785

I'm LIVING in a HAUNTED HOUSE OF MEMORIES

The chilling tense room if atmosphere so dense
Im feeling alarmed, shut of the suspense
The cobwebs are common, my smile retracting
They're heading for the hills, loud screaming

I'm living in a haunted house of memories
Its dangerous, but light I almost see
My hearts pounding and soaring
The whisper call so scathing


haunted,  house,  living,  memories.

Author: JAK AL TARBS
+0-
Date: 06/04/2020

№ 1207173

I Left the House and Forgot Nothing

The TV told me it was over,
So our troops were coming home to read books and meet their babies.
The TV said,
"The guns are gone, the kids are safe,
The girls and women, they're safe, too
And no one's bleeding alone anymore. "

I pulled up to your house and you said I love you
And we took a train to the mountains.

On top of every curve I heard you drawing plans on the window
Of all the things we'd do
And where should we go?

And whenever we got there, we danced.


forgot,  house,  left.

Author: Carly Two
+0-
Date: 04/04/2020


№ 1207145

House cleaning

You're a vacuum at this point.
You take in all the dirt,
But more often than that
You suck up your great grandmother's pearls.
To tear at one loose seam in the carpet,
And suddenly you're standing alone in a room full of yarn.
Time is cold and unforgiving on the crinkles that
Used to appear at the corners of your eyes when you smiled.
Cold and unforgiving on beautiful hands that now claw at your skin waiting for its fix.

I don't remember what your smile looks like.


cleaning,  house.

Author: K
+0-
Date: 04/04/2020

№ 1206997

Matt's House times

7am, off work
8am, first person on the liquor store line.
Raise a bottle to my lips as I sit in the yard
Sun growing throughout the sky, getting brighter,
Everything is so light and warm. And I hate it. Make it go away.
Half of my liquid confidence is gone now, and I still can't drift off.
Time for the top of the fridge where the pill form of sleep is kept.
Popped one. It doesn't work. Pop two and maybe it'll be alright.
Drink the rest and finally I feel like the day can fade away into the back alleyways of my mind. So much like the ones I used to live in.
This needs to stop. I feel like shit. I'm not even a ghost, I am a fucking skeleton of a human being.
I am as dead as the graveyard I live across from.
Take me back. Take me back home before I find a needle in my arm.
I don't belong here.


house,  matt,  times.

Author: Tara J Williams
+0-
Date: 04/04/2020


№ 1206676

In My Father's House, There Are Many Rooms

In my dreams, I travel through time and space,
To the land where I used to dwell
In the house of my father,
Trapped again in its dark and twisting halls.
There is no other place where running will take me
When he decides to set me ablaze
And form a new child from the ashes,
One who will call him sir and remember
To love him more with every bruise.
Upon waking, I check my skin
To make sure that it still exists,
But there's no way to measure
How much this dream has taken
From the places inside that I can't see.
There are wells of gasoline inside my soul
Convinced that the spark is what I deserve.


father,  house,  rooms.

Author: Aaron Blair
+0-
Date: 04/04/2020

№ 1205761

Old beach house

Grasses wind flat, swirling
Blanket over the plateau
A constant of crashing tides.

The perimeter white wash fence
Like awkward teeth tied broken and loose
Scattered as a moderate surround

Ashen and fettered by memory
A dynasty of holidays stained
In its salty oak - Weathered sweet
With haggard charm, poised

On the peninsular
Awaiting its new meaning as landmark.


beach,  house.

Author: Laniatus
+0-
Date: 03/04/2020

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