Lambert Hutchins
I have two monuments besides this granite obelisk:
One, the house I built on the hill,
With its spires, bay windows, and roof of slate;
The other, the lake-front in Chicago,
Where the railroad keeps a switching yard,
With whistling engines and crunching wheels,
And smoke and soot thrown over the city,
And the crash of cars along the boulevard,—
A blot like a hog-pen on the harbor
Of a great metropolis, foul as a sty.
I helped to give this heritage
To generations yet unborn, with my vote
In the House of Representatives,
And the lure of the thing was to be at rest
From the never-ending fright of need,
And to give my daughters gentle breeding,
And a sense of security in life.
But, you see, though I had the mansion house
And traveling passes and local distinction,
I could hear the whispers, whispers, whispers,
Wherever I went, and my daughters grew up
With a look as if someone were about to strike them;
And they married madly, helter-skelter,
Just to get out and have a change.
And what was the whole of the business worth?
Why, it wasn’t worth a damn!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters from Spoon River Anthology
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Lilian Stewart
I was the daughter of Lambert Hutchins,
Born in a cottage near the grist-mill,
Reared in the mansion there on the hill,
With its spires, bay-windows, and roof of slate.
How proud my mother was of the mansion!
How proud of father's rise in the world!
And how my father loved and watched us,
And guarded our happiness.
But I believe the house was a curse,
For father's fortune was little beside it;
And when my husband found he had married
A girl who was really poor,
He taunted me with the spires,
And called the house a fraud on the world,
A treacherous lure to young men, raising hopes
Of a dowry not to be had;
And a man while selling his vote
Should get enough from the people's betrayal
To wall the whole of his family in.
He vexed my life till I went back home
And lived like an old maid till I died,
Keeping house for father.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This House
(nile rodgers)
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
Our toys are in the attic baby
Pictures on the wall
We can see our memories
From the days past in the mirror
Down the hall, oh yeah
Our love will survive in our own little paradise
So inspired, so inspired
Palatial it may not be
But its a home and a castle to me
A dream from a magazine
And well never give it up cause
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
Ill try to comfort you baby
You try to comfort me yeah
I know you love me
With all your heart, oh yeah
cause you say you do
You know that when you are sad
Ill be there in a flash
At the drop of a hat, oh yeah
cause I want you to feel love
And you dont have to say a thing
You dont have to ask, cause baby
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
Maybe well strike it rich
One day really make it big
And I know because our love is so strong
Well always have a home
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
This house is built
On a foundation of love
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Found Out About You
All last summer in case you dont recall
I was yours and you were mine forget it all
Is there a line that I could write
Sad enough to make you cry
All the lines you wrote to me were lies
The months roll past the love that you struck dead
Did you love me only in my head?
Things you said and did to me
Seemed to come so easily
The love I thought Id won you give for free
Whispers at the bus stop
I heard about nights out in the school yard
I found out about you
Rumors follow everywhere you go
Like when you left and I was last to know
Youre famous now and theres no doubt
In all the places you hang out
They know your name and know what youre about
Whispers at the bus stop
I heard about nights out in the school yard
I found out about you
Street lights blink on through the car window
I get the time too often on am radio
You know its all I think about
I write your name drive past your house
Your boyfriends over I watch your light go out
Whispers at the bus stop
I heard about nights out in the school yard
I found out about you
song performed by by Gin Blossoms
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whispers
We have to speak in whispers
for fear someone might hear
our words that we want private.
It is a dreadful thing to have to do
if our secrets we want to keep
of how we desperately feel,
so we talk in whispers
that no one else can hear
in case our every word is drawn
to make comment on.
Therefore, when we talk to one another
it has to be in whispers
so no one can over hear,
our movements are scrutinized
and our conversations listened to.
Soon it will be over
and our lives can once again
begin to resume.
Until then we talk in whispers
so no one else can hear.
21 September 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whispers & Moans
Dull, dull grey
The colour of our times
Cool, cool space
That I still hope to find
Far beyond the veil
The sound of whispers and moans
Slow, time bomb
The clamour of the street
I hear this town
It never goes to sleep
And I will catch the taxi driver
Weeping like a wounded beast
Then I wake up in your room
To share one piece of your life
When tomorrow comes we may not be here at all
Without your whispers and moans
cos here you come to carry me home
Here you come to carry me home
Love that sound
Time erase
Tension wheels
Cool heels
Wont ya come on open the bid fore too long
Then I wake up in your room
To share one piece of your life
Id give anything to be a fly upon the wall
And hear your whispers and moans
Id like to hear your whispers and moans
Here you come to carry me
We are the mirrors
Are the mirrors of each other in a lifetime of suspicion
Cleansed in a moment of recognition
You gave your life for it
Worth its weight in gold
And growing empires and art collectors
And alans sound investments
Will one day be forgotten
One day be forgotten, yeah
song performed by by Crowded House
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whispers And Moans
N. Finn)
Dull dull grey, the colour of our times
Cool cool space that I still hope to find
Far beyond the veil
The sound of whispers and moans
Slow time bomb, the clamour of the street
I hear this town it never goes to sleep
And I will catch the taxi driver
Weeping like a wounded beast
Then I wake up in your room
Share one piece of your life
When tomorrow comes
We may not be here at all
Without your whispers and moans
Here you come to carry me home
Love that sound, time erase
Tension wheels, cool heels
Won't ya come on open the bid before too long
I wake up in your room
Share one piece of your life
I'd give anything to be a fly upon the wall
And hear your whispers and moans
I like to hear your whispers and moans
Here you come to carry me home
We are the mirrors of each other
In a lifetime of suspicion
Cleansed in a moment, a flash of recognition
You gave your life for it
Worth its weight in gold and growing empires
Art collectors and Alans sound investments
Will one day be forgotten, one day be forgotten
YEAH!
---
Copyright 1991 by Roundhead Music (BMI
song performed by by Crowded House
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A House for Four
A house for four
What is it? a house for four
A dingy looking thing
Are there windows? none
What is it? a house for four
Such a palace
Are there greetings? none
What is it? a house for four
Why the space is so small
Is there privacy? none
What is it? a house for four
A dozen creeps could be creeping there
Is there any trust? none
Don't judge me for mine
Poor fool i wont
Even give you the time
Are you judging me?
Your quite the choir
With a cracking voice
And
A tall house that falls
To scrutiny
A house for four and
A house for four
A people of choir and
A people of poor
Do you not recognize
The stains are yours?
A house is not a house
Unless there is more
More and more
Sometimes less is more
poem by Deci Hernandez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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23feb14 The Day After: This House
an earthquake here
like that this house
will fall judgement day
I have made my choices
but where really
is your house built?
a house
built
on sand?
or a house built
on the rock mass?
better a tin shack
in heaven
or a mansion in hell?
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This House This Home
in this house the music of the night
is the soft rain from the sky falling upon the grass
like tiptoeing mothers watching their young children
sleeping and kissing their foreheads
there is no burning fire here from wood
and there is no smoke from a cigarette
it is dark as usual but it is desirable
even darker as there are no stars tonight
i am not sad
i am at home with myself in this house
i hear the symphony of winds and whispers
from the leaves of trees and the chants of earthworms
it is cold and so i have closed all the windows and doors
& then i curl beneath my blanket of roses
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If I had [De-aş avea]
If I had a pretty flower
Fresh and sweet and full of power
Like all those that bloom in May,
Charming daughters of the day,
Growing on a grassy field
Where the grass is moved by wind,
And where people hear above
Gentle whispers full of love;
If I had a little flower
Nice and younger than the hour,
Dressed like lilies at their best
And white like the snowy breast,
Sometimes with a shade of pink,
Sometimes purple like a drink,
Like a song one hears above
Soft like whispers full of love;
If I had a dove as white
As a girl's face shining bright,
A meek girl, a lovely thing,
Like a sunny day of spring,
I would sing her all day long
The traditional folk song
And the notes will rise above
Soft like whispers full of love.
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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The Wrong House
I went into a house, and it wasn't a house,
It has big steps and a great big hall;
But it hasn't got a garden,
A garden,
A garden,
It isn't like a house at all.
I went into a house, and it wasn't a house,
It has a big garden and great high wall;
But it hasn't got a may-tree,
A may-tree,
A may-tree,
It isn't like a house at all.
I went into a house, and it wasn't a house -
Slow white petals from the may-tree fall;
But it hasn't got a blackbird,
A blackbird,
A blackbird,
It isn't like a house at all.
I went into a house, and I thought it was a house,
I could hear from the may-tree the blackbird call…
But nobody listened to it,
Nobody
Liked it,
Nobody wanted it at all.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring's Whisper
Whispers reach with silkened sigh.
Upon spun wings of time they fly ~
through forests tall and stately bound,
across the brown and barren ground.
Hushed within dark wintry night.
Chilled by nature's frosty sight.
Whispers whisper to the sea ~
Upon new winds a change there'll be.
Above the mountains whispers soar,
a whisper now at heaven's door.
Change follows in expectant glee.
Upon new winds a change there'll be.
Through meadows far ~ they whisper long,
breathing breaths of springtime song.
Alas, sweet wisps of warming see.
Upon new winds a change there'll be.
Awakened by the silkened sigh
of whispers softly flying by ~
earth absorbs the sighs like rain
as springtime whispers once again.
Whispers reach with silkened sigh.
Upon spun wings of time they fly,
to spread their whispers ~ o'er land and sea
Upon new winds a change there'll be.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whispers Of The North
Whispers of the north
Soon I will go forth
To that wild and barren land
Where nature takes its course
Whispers of the wind
Soon I will be there again
Bound with a wild and restless drive
That pulls me from within
And we can ride away
We can glide all day
And we can fly away
Whispers of the north
Soon I will return again
To those endless afternoons
In sunshine and in rain
Whispers of my love
Days and weeks on end
I will share my thoughts of her
In prayers that I will send
And we can ride away
We can glide all day
And we can fly away
Whispers of the north
The river and the shore
In the land that tested eskimos
Ten thousand years before
Whispers of my heart
In the tracks of animals
I will leave my footprints there
To lie beneath the snow
And we can ride away
We can glide all day
And we can fly away
Whispers of the wind
I will feel it sting
I will see it rise and fall
I will hear it sing
The sound is like a song to me
It takes away the pain
The river is the melody
And sky is the refrain
And we can ride away
We can glide all day
And we can fly away
And we can ride away
We can glide all day
And we can fly away
Whispers of the north
Soon I will go forth
Whispers of the north
Soon I will go forth
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House Of 1000 Corpses
She got a corpse
Under her bed
He had her fun
But now hes dead
Hear momma said
Come feed desire
Her brother said
Hey, throw her on the fire
This is the house
Come on in
This is the house
Built on sin
This is the house
Nobody lives
This is the house
You get what you give
I cut the flesh
And make it bleed
Fresh skin
Is what I need
I let it dry
Out in the wood
All your crying
Did no good, yeah
Now youre lying
On the floor
Yeah, you cant
Take anymore
The devils laughing
In your face
Give me another taste, yeah
song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Feeling Like A Stranger
in this place
this house without furnitures
all floors, this house with nothing but some stairs
and windows
you built it, i was away for years and we meet again
in this house
of acquaintances
devoid of affection, i have a way of telling what is this all about
by merely looking at the ceiling
there are no lights
to clarify me, who am i? in this house where i am not even a tree
or a vine
rootless, leafless
dying,
shall i continue living here?
i feel so unlike everyone else,
i am a total stranger
in this house that you built
this house devoid of affection,
i guess i have no choice
but to leave at once
otherwise, i too shall perish
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The house of hope
It’s getting fog over the our thoughts
shiver of dream whispers me secretly
the light spreads gingerly on branches
bunch of wings dashes in the air.
Circle blue colours in the sky
float through clouds, be lost in the distances
it’s the house of hope that calls tenderly
with large mantle, with wonderful face.
Return to the house from the distances
hope assembles in the house with fir trees
love rises through the chimney of smoke,
undulates courteously in waves.
poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bedroom Karoake
Pink Champagne & I
love your hair...eh?
With a hairbrush
I sing
(prancing like a prat)
doing Rosemary Clooney
doing her thing.
Come on a my house... my house a come on
Come on a my house...my house a come on
Come on a my house...to my house
I’m gonna give ya candy!
You in stitches
having never seen a naked man sing
an old 1950’s song
from his childhood.
I have never seen
a naked woman
laugh so much
You snatch
the hairbrush
& tantalisingly turn the song
into improper suggestion.
Come on a my house.. a my house
I’m gonna give you
Everything...everything...everything!
I come...I come!
poem by Dónall Dempsey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Boy
Is the house turned topsy-turvy?
Does it ring from street to roof?
Will the racket still continue,
Spite of all your mild reproof?
Are you often in a flutter?
Are you sometimes thrilled with joy?
Then I have my grave suspicions
That you have at home--that Boy.
Are your walls and tables hammered?
Are your nerves and ink upset?
Have two eyes, so bright and roguish,
Made you every care forget?
Have your garden beds a prowler,
Who delights but to destroy?
These are well-known indications
That you have at home--that Boy.
Have you seen him playing circus
With his head upon the mat,
And his heels in mid-arm twinkling--
For his audience, the cat?
Do you ever stop to listen,
When his merry planks annoy,--
Listen to a voice that whispers,
You were once just like--that Boy?
Have you heard of broken windows,
And with nobody to blame?
Have you seen a trousered urchin
Quite unconscious of the same?
Do you love a teasing mixture
Of perplexity and joy?
You may have a dozen daughters,
But I know you've got--that Boy.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Snowman in the Yard
The Judge's house has a splendid porch, with pillars and steps of stone,
And the Judge has a lovely flowering hedge that came from across the seas;
In the Hales' garage, you could put my house and everything I own,
And the Hales have a lawn like an emerald and a row of poplar trees.
Now I have only a little house, and only a little lot,
And only a few square yards of lawn, with dandelions starred;
But when Winter comes, I have something there that the Judge and the Hales have not,
And it's better worth having than all their wealth--it's a snowman in the yard.
The Judge's money brings architects to make his mansion fair;
The Hales have seven gardeners to make their roses grow;
The Judge can get his trees from Spain and France and everywhere,
And raise his orchids under glass in the midst of all the snow.
But I have something no architect or gardener ever made,
A thing that is shaped by the busy touch of little mittened hands:
And the Judge would give up his lonely estate, where the level snow is laid
For the tiny house with the trampled yard, the yard where the snowman stands.
They say that after Adam and Eve were driven away in tears
To toil and suffer their life-time through, because of the sin they sinned,
The Lord made Winter to punish them for half their exiled years,
To chill their blood with the snow, and pierce their flesh with the icy wind.
But we who inherit the primal curse, and labour for our bread,
Have yet, thank God, the gift of Home, though Eden's gate is barred:
And through the Winter's crystal veil, Love's roses blossom red,
For him who lives in a house that has a snowman in the yard.
poem by Joyce Kilmer from Main Street and Other Poems (1917)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Deserted House
Life and Thought have gone away
Side by side,
Leaving door and windows wide.
Careless tenants they!
All within is dark as night:
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before.
Close the door; the shutters close;
Or through the windows we shall see
The nakedness and vacancy
Of the dark deserted house.
Come away: no more of mirth
Is here or merry-making sound.
The house was builded of the earth,
And shall fall again to ground.
Come away: for Life and Thought
Here no longer dwell;
But in a city glorious -
A great and distant city -have bought
A mansion incorruptible.
Would they could have stayed with us!
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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