A House Is Not A Home
A house is not a home
if no one lives there.
Each room need a sparkle
with pictures on the wall.
A fire needs a steady bed
to yield its warmth there.
The sound of heartbeats
needs to fill the air
and each room needs laughter
to echo from within.
With out those ingredients
a house is not a home.
6 September 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
A House Is Not A Home
(burt bacharach / hal david)
A chair is still a chair
Even though theres no-one sitting there
But a chair is not a house
And a house is not a home
When theres no-one there to hold you tight
And no-one there you can kiss goodnight
A room is still a room
Even though theres nothing there but gloom
But a room is not a house
And a house is not a home
When the two of us are far apart
And one of us has a broken heart
Now and then I call your name
And suddenly your voice appears
But its just a crazy game
When it ends, it ends in tears
Darling, have a heart
Dont let one mistake keep us apart
Im not meant to live alone
Turn this house into a home
When I climb the stairs
And turn the key
Oh, please be there
Still in love with me
Im not meant to live alone
Turn this house into a home
When I climb the stairs
And turn the key
Oh, please be there
Still in love with me
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hollow Nature Of Being
WALL I:
inside an empty room lies an empty box
and in that box is a four walled inside room within-
on each of the four walls is a mirror reflecting
the deep desertion of the next
and distant within each wall is another
echoing & spiraling back into infinite repetition
with nothing or no one except the physical entities
bearing back upon each other.
WALL II:
an empty room in an empty house
the house itself has no physical attributes because it
was built in a barren field-
there are no animals, no trees,
no beings of any kind
roaming around the house whose image cannot be
imagined,
at best, know that this house in fact
“housed” the room in question,
as any house might any room.
WALL III:
such a barren field stretches to all four corners
carrying itself out beyond the periphery
curling back in on the other side,
and walking in any direction will bring one back to the
beginning-
the barren field that reveals the empty house that
encapsulates the empty room is the most integral point of
reference within the endless flat plain of grass.
WALL IV:
endless flat plains of grass flowing out in all directions covering
the circumference of the area around the empty house residing in
the middle of the plain wherein
the inside of the empty house holds the
empty room & in the
room,
the four mirrored walls reveal only the replication of the
others,
spiraling into infinite repetition-
there is no feeling
no sound
no communication of any kind
woven with the thread of human fiber.
poem by Andrew Delapruch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Virgo Clowns
Let us free you from the pain
Let us see you smile again
Let us unlock all the chains
Youre broken-hearted
Let us help you to forget
Let us help you unlock it
Its not nearly time to quit
Youve only started
You gotta
Sit down funny face
Let your laughter fill the room
Light up your golden smile
Take away all your misery and gloom
Let your laughter fill the room
Let your laughter fill the room
Let us shake you by the hand
Let us help you understand
Take your head out of the sand
And shake it free now
Let us help you to go on
We are here to lean upon
Now you know exactly just who
You want to be now
Come on
Sit down funny face
Let your laughter fill the room
Light up your golden smile
Take away all your misery and gloom
Let your laughter fill the room
Let your laughter fill the room
Let us lift you up on high
See the twinkle in your eye
Raise your head up to the sky
And say its easy
Hey let the trumpets ring it
Let the angels sing it
Let your pretty feet go dancing
Let your worn out mind go prancing
And
Sit down funny face
Let your laughter fill the room
Light up your golden smile
Take away all your misery and gloom
Let your laughter fill the room
Let your laughter fill the room
Etc.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Holiday
I love the cheery bustle
Of children round the house,
The tidy maids a-hustle,
The chatter of my spouse;
The laughter and the singing,
The joy on every face:
With frequent laughter ringing,
O, Home's a happy place!
Aye, Home's a bit of heaven;
I love it every day;
My line-up of eleven
Combine to make it gay;
Yet when in June they're leaving
For Sandport by the sea,
By rights I should be grieving,
But gosh! I just fell free.
I'm left with parting kisses,
The guardian of the house;
The romp, it's true, one misses,
I'm quiet as a mouse.
In carpet slippers stealing
From room to room alone
I get the strangest feeling
The place is all my own.
It seems to nestle near me,
It whispers in my ear;
My books and pictures cheer me,
Hearth never was so dear.
In peace profound I lap me,
I take no stock of time,
And from the dreams that hap me,
I make (like this) a rhyme.
Oh, I'm ashamed of saying
(And think it's mean of me),
That when the kids are staying
At Sandspot on the sea,
And I evoke them clearly
Disporting in the spray,
I love them still more dearly
Because . . . they're far away.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This House Is Empty Now
(costello/bacharach)
These rooms play tricks upon you
Remember when they were always filled with laughter
But now theyre quite deserted
They seem to just echo voices raised in anger
Maybe you will see my face
Reflected there on the pane
In the window up above for long
In broken home
Yet this house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how am I supposed to live without you
These walls were lined with pictures
Remember the glass we charged in celebration
But now I fill my life up
With all that I can to deaden this sensation
Do you recognize the face
Fixed in that fine silver frame
Were you really so unhappy there
You never said
So this house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do to make you want to stay
So tell me how am I supposed to live without you
Oh, if I could just become forgetful
When night seems endless
Does the extinguished candle care
About the darkness
Its funny how the memory
Will bring you so close then make you disappear
Meanwhile all our friends must choose
Who they will favour, who they will lose
Hang the garland high, or close the door
Or throw away the key
This house is empty now
Theres no one living here
You have to care about
This house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how am I supposed to live without you
This house is empty now
This house is empty now
Theres nothing I can do
This house is empty now
This house is empty now
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House Of The Heart
So many people live in the house of the heart
And all the people that lives in the house of the heart
Are very at the house of the heart
Because they don't live alone
The house of the heart is a very big house
With 10 bedrooms,1 kitchen, a dining room,1 large living room, and 5
Bathrooms
At the house of the heart everybody sleeps in their own bedroom
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pictures
Whoa oh yeah
I've seen pictures
Well i saw you just the other day
And i could not help but look your way
I say you've just got this special look
That has got me completely hooked
Ow
Pictures on the wall
Pictures everywhere
Pictures on the wall
Everywhere i stare
Pictures on the wall
The ceiling and the floor
I'm in a metal room
And i cannot find the door
Will this feeling ever go away?
Or will this feeling stay?
Will this feeling ever go away?
'cause i can't live the rest of my life this way
Pictures on the wall
[c'mon]
Pictures everywhere
Pictures on the wall
[c'mon c'mon]
Everywhere i stare
Pictures on the wall
[c'mon c'mon]
The ceiling and the floor
I'm in a metal room and i cannot find the door
I see your face in the clouds in the sky
I see your face before my eyes, yeah
I see your face everywhere
And now i don't know what to do
Oh oh
Pictures on the wall
Pictures everywhere
Pictures on the wall
Everywhere i stare
Pictures on the wall
The ceiling and the floor
I'm in a metal room
And i cannot find the door
Whoa pictures...
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sound Of My Footsteps
i open the door
i enter this house
its windows closed
its chairs set aside
along the corners
of the corridors
the sound of my
shoes making
footsteps
reverberates
in the living room
it is like the lonely
poem you wrote
for me
footsteps taking
the stairs up the
second floor leading
to an empty room
nobody lives here
anymore
you explained
one day
this was a happy home
until all of them
were shot
dead, by the lone
gunner,
what was his name again?
you told me once
his name is loneliness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Independent Woman....
we are in this house
that from our sweat built
there are only two of us
in this house
which we have not really
called as home,
something's missing
you give me a hint
not the glass window or
the ceiling fan,
i know it but how can i
tell you?
i won't tell, it will hurt you,
we continue living
somehow
just the two of us in this house
we have our own careers
and every morning we rush to go on our different ways
the night is the only place
of our tryst
we manage to spend time for love
we sleep together and share
what we can
there will be a time when this house shall fall
because it is not a home for us all
there will be one morning when you will finally leave
and take away everything from me
and then i will write it on the wall
this house is never a home,
she never wanted a child to bear.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our House With The Rotary Phone
I sit in a room that no longer exists
On a chair long since splintered and gone
While I pick at a meal I once would devour
in our house with the rotary phone.
I sit in the room that doesn’t exist
Enjoying my choice of ice creams
Recalling the window in Tiffany glass
Forgive an old man his daydreams
A simple “A” frame with three beds and a bath,
obsolete, yes, but our home.
It stood with its’ sisters on Queens borough Hill,
where the L.I.E. jams are well known.
I had known for some time that her best days were gone
A plywood fence circled our home
Title had passed to a contractor’s hands
Neglected, our house looked forlorn
My past like a picture ripped from its frame
They left not a stone on a stone
Not even the numbers on wood painted green
of our house with the rotary phone.
Our house and its twin have been wrecked and removed
And replaced with a modern brick “home”
So pardon my tear as I stand at the bier
Of our house with the rotary phone
poem by John F. McCullagh
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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Shattered windows, Colors of white
Across the street is a new house with a room painted red, with no holes of white.
Next to me, a house purple, with its color pealing off, with holes of black and white
At the end of the street, an old house once yellow, what now remains white.
The sound of a hammer building a house, entering a place with a color unknown.
On the street,
Windows covered with ice
Some shine with light.
Some broken
Some fixed
Some lost, out of sight.
A house, two blocks from here.
Shines with lights of yellow, red, and green everywhere.
A wall keeping the wind from blowing anywhere.
The house next door, at the dawn of the day.
Paints its room black, and peals the color away.
The wall crumbles.
The wind blows across the colors of yellow, red and green
Breaks all the windows.
Turns the yellow to blue, red to black, and green to white.
The house two blocks away.
Adds a line of yellow red and green everyday.
To allow the house of blue, black and white to shine for us some day.
poem by Linda ErikssonBique
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New Found Sympathy
The dust is all that's left
To this lonely room
A few boxes remain
But they'll be gone soon
The pictures that formed the wall
Now belong to the trash
And all the pretty fixtures
Have long been detached
The house that held sunlight
Now only emphasizes gray
Rooms are no longer shining
And I wish it weren't that way
Lonely and empty is this house
But it's not the only one
That lost it's cheer and happiness
Where it's brightness has gone
I wish I could go back
To see what would have been
If thing's hadn't have gone wrong
If I'd still be in this house with him
poem by Airda Jones
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2005/07 A house is not a home
The house we've built
looked so pretty on the outside
now its filled with only my feelings
and now you hardly ever come in
those times when you do
its just a shell
just your body, not your heart
just your peck, not your kiss
just your hug, not your embrace
i need your love
i need you to want me
if you dont want me then why are you in my house
that's right, my house
you've moved your feelings, your furniture out
my home gets chilly at night
imprints of your pictures on the wall
toothbrush still in the holder
toilet seat still up
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This House Is Empty Now (feat. Burt Bacharach)
These rooms play tricks upon you
Remember when they were always filled with laughter?
But now they're quite deserted
They seem to just echo voices raised in anger
Maybe you will see my face
Reflected there on the pane
In the window of our poor
Forlorn and broken home
Still this house is empty now
There's nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how
Am I supposed to live without you?
These walls were lined with pictures
Remember the glass we charged in celebration?
But now I fill my life up
With all that I can to deaden this sensation
Do you recognize the face
Fixed in that fine silver frame
Were you really so unhappy then?
You never said
So this house is empty now
There's nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how
Am I supposed to live without you?
Oh, if I could just become forgetful
When night seems endless
Does the extinguished candle care
About the darkness?
It's funny how my memry
Will bring you so close then make you disappear
Meanwhile all our friends must choose
Who they will favour, who they will lose
Hang the garland high or close the door
And throw away the key
This house is empty now
There's no one living here
You have to care about
This house is empty now
There's nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how
Am I supposed to live without you?
This house is empty now
There's no one living here
You have to care about
This house is empty now
There's nothing I can do
To make you want to stay
So tell me how
Am I supposed to live without you
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Picture-Gallery
In a little house keep I pictures suspended, it is not a fix'd house,
It is round, it is only a few inches from one side to the other;
Yet behold, it has room for all the shows of the world, all memories!
Here the tableaus of life, and here the groupings of death;
Here, do you know this? this is cicerone himself,
With finger rais'd he points to the prodigal pictures.
poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My Picture-Callery
IN a little house keep I pictures suspended, it is not a fix'd house,
It is round, it is only a few inches from one side to the other;
Yet behold, it has room for all the shows of the world, all memories?
Here the tableaus of life, and here the groupings of death;
Here, do you know this? this is cicerone himself,
With finger rais'd he points to the prodigal pictures.
poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With her touch she turned the house into a home
With her touch she turned the house into a home
transforming it as she went from room to room.
Those things that seem to go unnoticed by men
were thoughtfully arranged again and again.
This House is no Longer a Home
As I walk down the lonely street
Knees get weak, can barely keep my feet
I see the fence, the gate, the porch
From where you gazed and lit my torch
I see the house, the room, the bed
Your voice still ringing in my head
You said you didn't love anymore
And you walked out the door
The walls were painted antique white
Semi-gloss to bring in the light
Pictures hung on every wall
With memories of us all
Now the fence is falling, the flowers dying
Tears fall through the cracks from all the crying
The gate is broken and no one can come in
It's a shame even the birds won't sing
But this house is no longher a home
You chose freedom, you chose to roam
This house is no longer a home
Like a beer without foam
A classic car without chrome
You chose to roam
Now this house is no longer a home
I recall that first night
We made love in the full moonlight
Tfhe air was filled with ecstasy
Our moans sang a symphony
Our bodies became one
As we ventured till the morning sun
But love doesn't live here anymore
I can still hear the slamming of the door
I can feel the vibration of every picture frame
As I stand here wondering who's to blame
poem by Alfred Ramos
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I think even when homeowners love their room, it's still a shock, because you left your house, went to sleep, came home and your room was dramatically and drastically different.
quote by Paige Davis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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