The House
For many years, the house
stood empty and forlorn.
The windows had been boarded
preventing the sunlight coming in.
No welcoming mat lay by the door;
laughter was a thing of the past
as spiders spun their webs
within the gloomy silence.
The house stood empty
abandoned by most living things
and there were those who said
spooky goings on went on
after night fell in there.
No one could prove it
because no one would stay there.
Only the fool hardy
would ever enter after dark.
The paintwork pealed
and the front door creaked
if someone dared to open it.
They say the house is haunted,
but no one knew
by what or who.
The house began to crumble
as each season came to pass.
The glory of its birth
lay somewhere in the past
and now the crumbling walls
would never reveal
any of the secrets that it knew.
Then a fire started
by a hand unseen
and the house finally died
within its own funeral pyre
15 March 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
House for Sale
I stood in the midst of the empty house,
It was silent, empty, and bare,
gone was the laughter the tears and the life,
and the family that once lived there.
I stood there observing, to try to revive
the memories this house had to share,
the secrets, excitement, unhappiness too,
these feelings so willing to bear.
I heard children playing and lapping up life,
I heard adults talking and scolding,
This house bore it all with its solid repose,
and accepted with wisdom beholding.
I stood in the midst of the empty house,
with a feeling of sadness around,
abandoned and empty, a lonely shell,
for the place never uttered a sound,
it was silent and bare, where the rooms had been stripped
and the furniture taken away,
the paint had been scratched and the floor left unwashed
when the house was abandoned that day.
The ghosts from its past walk through each lonely room,
and I sigh as I button my coat,
I slam the front door with an echoing bang
and a lump seems to lodge in my throat-
for there on the green lawn for all eyes to see
with dark letters outstanding on pale
is a board standing taut in the cold winter sun
with the large, lonely wording- "For Sale"
poem by Margaret Hanning
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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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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In This House
in this house
where you've been
what you've seen
were the windows
in this house
where you've been
what you've seen
were the doors
in this house
where you've sat
what you ate
was your food
in this house
where you've sat
what you ate
was the word
in this house
where you stood
what you could
something say
in this house
you could open
windows doors clapping wings
in this house
you could open
soul that heaven upward sings
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sad Story
The old house stood in silence,
no one lives there anymore.
Only memories of the past,
fill each empty room.
Once you stood so proud,
laughter rang out from your walls.
Now only cobwebs and decay inherit there.
What sad story has lead to your decline?
The lights from your windows,
don’t shine there anymore.
Only ghosts from the past,
live in every room.
Ghosts that once brought laughter.
That rang out every night,
are silent and no more
What sad story marks your fall from grace?
Once upon a time,
children played outside your door.
Now only weeds and brambles,
fall across your welcome path.
No more the smiling faces,
greet everyone at your door.
Now that sadness and neglect has fell.
What sad story do you have to tell?
Were there newlyweds,
with their hopes so high?
Did they have their hopes dashed some how,
or was it some great tragedy,
that within your walls befell?
So tragic that it made the silence fall.
What made them desert you to neglect?
What was the sad story, pray tell?
6 April 2007
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The House with Nobody in It
Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.
I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.
This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,
And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.
If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.
I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.
Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,
Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.
But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known.
But a house that has done what a house should do,
a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.
So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,
For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.
poem by Joyce Kilmer
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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
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Sitting In An Empty House
Sitting in an emtpy house
Waiting for the phone to ring
Sitting in an empty house
Wanting someone to call about anything
Sitting in an house
Just a cat for company
Sitting in an empty house
Will someone please take time for me?
Sitting in an empty house
No one knows I'm so alone
Sitting in an empty house
The pain I feel remains unknown
04/29/06
Christmas Eve Presumption
I remember years past at this time
joining with friends sublime
A-caroling we did go from house to house
of those old alone people sitting inside at home
“We’re bringing some holiday cheer to the old shut ins”
I remember the 30ish leader saying with a grin
At one house surrounded by trees we stood at front door
singing loudly song after song with smiles and glee
The house door flew open to reveal a thin elderly man
who waved at us to go away and leave him be
But singing we continued with conviction and fervor
to bring hope and joy to this sad lonely figure
Then the slippered old man stepped out into the snow
and stuffed bills in the pocket of the nearest fellow
And on Christmas eve, this lonely old man yelled
“Get off my property! ”
I guess he was quietly resting, or writing, or enjoying a good read
or maybe watching his favorite Christmas show on TV
poem by William Waterway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Houses
1898 -- A Song of the Dominions
'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.
For my house and thy house no help shall we find
Save thy house and my house -- kin cleaving to kind;
If my house be taken, thine tumbleth anon.
If thy house be forfeit, mine followeth soon.
'Twixt my house and thy house what talk can there be
Of headship or lordship, or service or fee?
Since my house to thy house no greater can send
Than thy house to my house -- friend comforting friend;
And thy house to my house no meaner can bring
Than my house to thy house -- King counselling King.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Hidden Drive
there's a dirty house that's falling apart
some want to fix it but they don't know where to start
there's cobwebs and cracks in the walls
this is where rain's relief dares not to fall
no one really cares to help this place
they just look at the face
this old house is kept inside
with a disguising shell to hide
something i noticed as i passed by
at the house where hope will die
the windows were clean and new
though everywhere else the weeds grew
the windows had such an allure
i couldn't take it anymore
i gazed at the windows in awe
then through them i saw
the messy, run-down house inside
where beauty died
then i realized
something about eyes
eyes are the windows
clean and lovely for show
but behind them is the soul
sometimes your eyes will fool
the beauty and shine will not last
for one day, someone will see past.
poem by Alex Manson
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The Black House On The Corner
I passed by that house everday,
wondering what lurked inside of it,
was their some kind of ancient evil inside,
or a normal family that we never saw,
a house of macarbe,
it was painted black like the devil's sin,
it was surrouned by devilish-looking,
figures that stood outside on the line,
was also surrounded by a black pointed fence,
rumors of the devil himself living there,
the devil in the flesh,
satan living on my street corner,
The black house on the corner,
can't you see it,
you must walk past it everyday to,
dosen't your mind wander,
when you walk by The black house,
don't you to know what lays inside of the house,
maybe a ton of dead bodies under the floor boards,
a madman butcherd up his family,
could that be true,
or are our young minds racing again,
with impure and insane thoughts about,
who or what lives in the black house on the corner,
the black house,
painted with the devil's sin,
We were told to stay away from the black house,
that so many evils lived inside of it,
but us being kids we didn't want to live,
we wanted to see what was inside of the black house on the corner,
But we are to afraid to go forward,
we are to afraid to step through the gate,
and walk up the beaten path to the door bell,
it looks so old and so evil,
The black house on the corner,
we shall never know what evilness,
or what macabre force resides within,
the black house on the corner,
whatever you do,
don't go into the black house on the corner,
stay away from,
the black house on the corner,
it holds so many evils,
the black house on the corner,
poem by Robert Rumery
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Mom And Dad
These walls once knew the laughter
Of children happy and gay
Of mom and dad with humble thanks
To God who blessed them on their way
Then came the war, Johnnie had to go
I remember the tears we shed
And precious memories that lingered on
After news came the boy was dead
The rest of us left one by one
Until mom and dad were alone
They seemed to weather the time
As the years rolled on and on
The Angels came for mother's soul
It's been about three years ago
Then dad seemed to wither away
Until the Lord said he must go
Yes this old house is empty now
All her glory passed and gone
The shutters and doors are crumbling
As are walls once filled with song
But I shall never forget the raising
That came from mom and dad
They led us children to the Lord
When I was but a strip of a lad
I want to thank you again Lord
For mom and dads special care
They filled my life with love and joy
In this old house of yesteryear
poem by Louis H. Thompson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mystery House
That door had been shut for years
No sound ever passed its ears
Its eyes were starved, for light,
Inside was just silent Night
Why was it closed, what had it been
Had it some kind of mishap seen
Was it waiting for its master, last,
To free it from some spell he cast
The wood cracked, the metal, rusted
cobwebs on its top vested
' The house of ghosts ',
it was taunted
Little John too knew the house was haunted
Eerie spirits, you could hear all night,
poor Ken, you see, huddled in fright
mother forbade, no one went close
into the death trap, none tried nor chose
' The Winchester House ', it was named once
None gave the manor's house a glance
I believe the house, will forever remain
Yet none its mystery will ever explain.
poem by Vishnu Sampoorn
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Heart Beating In Time
Each day without fail
the road would visit the house
(it was the only house the road knew)
and the house too
would look forward to
the road’s visit.
Over the years they became
good friends.
Then one day the house died
from lack of people
and was torn down
until it was only
memory and rubble.
The road continued to visit it
but could only stare into empty space
at the place where the house
had been.
The road was lonely.
At night it talked to
the landscape and the stars
but life was never the same
again.
One day the road just up and died
from lack of use.
Now only the dream
of a memory exists
and the landscape and stars
talk to themselves
and try to remember
what it is...they have
forgot.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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Consent
i
only knock
you are the owner
of the door
of the house
if
you open it
then i
enter
but you close
the door
and the windows
of your house
airtight
and so
i turn my back
and walk
away
if you change
your mind
however
i am just
a stone
throw
away...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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House Of Jazz
Humdinger
Bell ringer
Got a nasty stinger
To slow you down
Mud slinger
Gold digger
Who point the finger
And do you down
Kickin' and a fightin' on a TV show
Lightin' blindin' in the middle of the road
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Ball stripper
Big tipper
Got a slap 'n' tickler
To make you growl
Spitin' and bitin' on a TV show
Tightenin' frightenin' givin' out a load
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin' in
Come on in
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
The house of jazz
song performed by by AC/DC from Stiff Upper Lip
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Swollen (Final Chapter)
they talked throught the night
as the candle burned down, exchanging
the stories of their lives.
then finally, they just sat in the stillness,
listening to the walls of the old house
breathe.
he thought about his life, the work, the
family, the love... all gone.
she whispered, 'be still, they're coming...'
the lights of the cruiser inched up the
street. stopping, they shone a light into
the old house, like fingers probing.
they sat motionless, afraid to move..
finally, they moved on.
'they'll be back, someone's called...' she
began to cry.
he sat up and dug in his pocket. pulling
out a wadded up old black and white photo,
he straightened it out, taking out a fifty
dollar bill.
'i want you to have it... when they go to chasing
me, take the baby, and run...'
before she could say anything, he was up and
out the door.
he crouched in the bushes at the end of the drive.
when he saw the cruiser coming, he stood up and
let out a whoop. he took off running as fast as he
could go, trying to put distance between them and
the old house
when they finally cornered him, one street over, he
put up a struggle. as they beat him to the ground
with their batons, he imagined he could see the lights
of a car going down the street. it was the last thing
he ever remembered!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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This House Is Haunted
I was sitting in my room, dark and gray and crying
Someone in my life I fear was at the point of dying
A cold wind blew right up my spine, it was the break of dawn
A little voice went deep inside told me she was gone
Oh...This house is haunted
Oh...That's how I want it to be
Oh...This house is haunted
You can always stay here with me...
No more singing, no more laughing, no more sunny days
She left and took the colors with her, buried in her grave
This is where we climbed the tower, this is where she fell
Then when her young heart stopped beating, I went to hell
Oh...This house is haunted
Oh...Ha....
Oh...This house is haunted
Ho...Oh...
You float through the living room, I watch my TV
I feel you sit down on the couch right here next to me
Then I feel your lips touch mine just like we used to do
I'm so happy all alone being here with you...
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stranger In My Own House
(a capella: she said: boy, your luck is running out...she make me feel like a stranger...in my own house)
I come stumbling in at a quarter to three
To the sound of my own dog growlin at me
Im scared to move or turn on a light
Youve got me creepin around in the dark
Like a thief in the night
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
Ive got no place to live
I never feel at home
I walk into the kitchen to see whats there
Im tired and Im hungry but the cupboards bare
Ive been working all day and all night too
I cant believe this is all I have to come back to
I guess Ill take a look upstairs, in the danger zone
I wonder what Im doing here
When I never feel at home
Im a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Im a stranger in my own house
Ill huff and Ill puff and Ill blow this house down
Cant be a stranger in my own house
I see the do not disturb sign on my bedroom door
What is this sheet and pillow laying on the floor
I wore out my welcome
I hear you loud and clear
Its time to get a few things straight around here
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
Ive got a place to live but I never feel at home
Im just a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Stranger in my own house
Ill huff and Ill puff and Ill blow this house down
Cant be a stranger in my own house
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
With a woman like you Im better off alone
Im a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Im just a stranger in my own house
Oh, honey Im home
Im just a stranger in my own house
Im just a stranger in my own house
You got a lion on your hands girl, not a mouse!
Im just a stranger in my own house
Im just a stranger in my own house
Well, somebodys got to go...
Stranger
Stranger
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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