Talking to Grief
Ah, Grief, I should not treat you
like a homeless dog
who comes to the back door
for a crust, for a meatless bone.
I should trust you.
I should coax you
into the house and give you
your own corner,
a worn mat to lie on,
your own water dish.
You think I don't know you've been living
under my porch.
You long for your real place to be readied
before winter comes. You need
your name,
your collar and tag. You need
the right to warn off intruders,
to consider
my house your own
and me your person
and yourself
my own dog.
poem by Denise Levertov
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Related quotes
A little Ghost Story
As I was going to bed
I turned out my light
tucked myself in
on a long winter's night
All of a sudden
I heard a door squeak
I thought someone was in my house
so I decided to take a peak
I heard the wind blow hard
and started to shiver with fear
and heard some noises again
but this time I knew I was near
I went into the living room
and noticed my door was opened wide
squeaking back and forth
I laughed so hard I almost cried
So I decided to go back up to my room
When I heard some terrible cries
I rushed to my room real quick
but a ghost stopped me in surprise
I ran and yelled
and I ran outside my house right then
and decided I would never
go back to that house again
At my new house
I turned out the light
you can probably guess
what went on that night
poem by Shaina Lloyd
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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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Freezing Steel
Freezing steel
Ive flown the house of freezing, the house of freezing steel
And though my bodys back I know it cant be real
cause Ive been on that house without a guiding wheel
The house of freezing steel
Oh wheres it going, picked me up at seven
When my eyes were weak from the light of the morning
Oh sister wont you tell me what a man might want to know
This madness is fine, yes if youre mad at the time
Back on the house of freezing, the house of freezing steel
The tied my body up, Im forced to eat my meal
A cold plate of lamb and cold potatoes too
Now whats a soul to do
Oh lord above, brother wont you tell me
Is this a eucharistic dove
cause Ive been waiting for the right one to appear
But Ive seen it in your face, and baby this aint the place
Up on the house of freezing, the house of freezing steel.
I made my mind up then to get me to the wheel
I made the cabin door, the pilot turned around
He said were venus bound
Oh please take me home
After all Im only human and the earth is where I belong
I must have looked pitiful to this freak without a face
cause as he touched my head I saw myself back in bed
Ive flown the house of freezing, the house of freezing steel
And though my bodys back I know it cant be real
cause Ive been on that house without a guiding wheel
The house of freezing steel
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Real Life
Suzanne divorced her husband
She got the keys and the car and the home
But her friends were really his friens
No one stops by to see her much any more
So one night, she goes back down to
The old haunts
That once upon a time were her own
She didnt know nobody out there no
More
And the whole experience just made her
Feel so old
She says
I want to live the real life
I want to life my life close to the bone
Just because im middle-aged that
Dont mean
I want to sit around my house and watch tv
I want the real life
I want to live the real life
Jackson jackson was a good kid
He had four years of college
And a bachelors degree
Started workin, when he was 21
Got fed up and quit
When he was 43
He said, my whole life
Ive done, what I supposed to do
Now id like to maybe do something
For myself
And just as soon, I figure out what
That is
You can bet your live
Im gonna give it hell
He says
I want to live the real life
I want to life my life close to the bone
Just because im middle-aged that
Dont mean
I want to sit around my house and watch tv
I want the real life
I want to live the real life
I guess, it dont matter, how old you
Are
Or how old one lives to be
I guess, it boils down to what we did
With our lives
And how we deal with our own
Destinies
But something happens
When you reach a certain age
Particularly to to those ones, that are
Young at heart
Its a lonely proposition when you
Realize
That theres less days in front of the
Horse
Than riding in the back of this cart
I say
I want to live the real life
I want to life my life close to the bone
Just because im middle-aged that
Dont mean
I want to sit around my house and watch tv
I want the real life
I want to live the real life.
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Houselessd Or Homeless
Is your house your home or is your home your house
a home is love, caring, sharing, and sweet
home is a place where you can have your own beat
there is no hate, no pain, and no lying
for right now i don't have this place
the place with a familiar face
i am the homeless
but not the houseless
in a house there is hate, pain, and lying
in a house there can be one slowly dying
you have to escape
if not you will suffer the worst fate
for right now i live here
suffering from fear
i am the homeless
but not the houseless
poem by Fred Chamberlain
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House To Rent
This house to rent, was plain the sign
A structure built for man
But God’s prepared a place divine
Before my life began
A house beyond man’s wildest dream
Garden beyond compare
Where water from a living stream
Births endless fruit to share
Yet this from God is no reward
But gift to house a king
Purchased through blood of Christ my Lord
Who’s endless praise I’ll sing
Yet rent a house, I must a while
Although it may sound dumb
Still deep inside I can but smile
For that which soon will come
A promise few can understand
A mansion to endure
But those who’ll dwell The promised Land
Will verify it sure
God’s real-estate is purpose built
Eternally to stay
Unlike as this we build on silt
That sure to fall one day
Eternity draws ever nigh
This house I’ll soon vacate
But till Christ’s cloud fills up the sky
Who knows how long I’ll wait
Within this rented house on sand
Behind it’s wooden door
Through faith prepared through love I’ll stand
Awaiting Christ once more
poem by Michael P. Johnson
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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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Homelessness In Winter
back about 30 years ago,
living on the streets in Charlotte...
finally found a job... was lucky enough
to have a place to take a shower...
sleeping in the backseat of a broke
down Ford Maverick... cold winter...
got up and walked 4 miles to work
every morning,4 miles 'home' in the
evening...
went on for a couple months before
i got a place to live...
so yes i know what homelessness
feels like...and i cant help thinking
about all the empty foreclosed houses....
empty houses, homeless people....
back then, even if you couldnt find a
real job, they had a place where you
could go and line up to do day work...
worked all day for about 25 dollars...
if you couldnt do that, you could always
sell blood.... i dont know what they do
now....i just know it's a hard life...and if
you've got family, got kids...
something to think about the next time
you see a homeless person walking the
streets!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Farewell
I have got my leave. Bid me farewell, my brothers!
I bow to you all and take my departure.
Here I give back the keys of my door
---and I give up all claims to my house.
I only ask for last kind words from you.
We were neighbors for long,
but I received more than I could give.
Now the day has dawned
and the lamp that lit my dark corner is out.
A summons has come and I am ready for my journey.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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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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Coming Home
The railings were old and rusty,
The door paint was faded and chipped,
The poor old house had seen better days,
The roof, made of slate, had now dipped.
The windows showed broken hinges,
The path to the door, overgrown,
This was the place where I was born,
The only real home I had known.
The 'rambler' that clung to the front porch,
Was a rose in the deepest red,
Now looking forlorn and so straggly,
I thought that maybe it was dead.
But tiny buds were shooting,
From the root beside the door,
And I was sure that, with a little care,
The house would come alive once more.
I watched as the 'SOLD' sign was erected,
And I felt I had reached home at last,
I knew that I would be happy here,
After what had been in my past.
I washed, swept, scrubbed and polished,
Until everything looked 'brand new',
Then my heart sped back to my childhood days,
My return home, was well overdue.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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I Hate To See A House
I hate
To see a house
Visibly falling
To its knees
I hate
To see a house
Its body trembling
And breaking
A house thats homeless
A house
With loneliness
Upon its face
No window
Is its eyes
No door
Is its mouth
Its body fully
Infested
Faced with old age
And its demise!
poem by Dorsey Baker
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Living in a House of Blue
Living in a house of blue
Waiting for a girl I knew
Living in a house of pain
Waiting for her purple shoes
To cross the threshold to my door
Like she did a thousand times or more
Looking for a perfect rhyme
To entice her back to the scene of the crime
Living in a house of blue
Waiting for I girl I know
She likes to go to the picture show
And watch the wicked witch cast her spell
She cries for the princess all night long
And falls asleep in my arms
When she sound asleep
I take off her purple shoes
And lock up our house of blue
poem by Brian Kilpatrick
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Complicated Lifestyle.
a man's life is simple.
he has a routine, like this: house, office, house.
he gets bored, adds another place,
like house, office, park, mall, house,
waste of money, but a little interesting, he adds more
a friend's house, another house where he can be intimate with someone,
then sex, and games and romance and betrayal and use and sue and
lots of booze,
he retreats back to house, office, house,
but it is not the same again.
he sins, feels so broke, and
to a certain extent
attempts at suicide.
sad, but it can happen to you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The House With Many Doors
the house i love is a house
with many doors
the usual house you have
a front door and the back door
when one enters and there is nothing
to hide, one simply takes the back door
and be gone to the woods,
i can be imaginative at times
one door must open to the earth
another door must open to
the sky
and now, i must find a way
how to grow wings
or if destiny is too cruel
i must grow sharper claws
for digging the rocks of this
earth
now you must know that i have
many choices
up or
down.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Grief is a Mouse
793
Grief is a Mouse—
And chooses Wainscot in the Breast
For His Shy House—
And baffles quest—
Grief is a Thief—quick startled—
Pricks His Ear—report to hear
Of that Vast Dark—
That swept His Being—back—
Grief is a Juggler—boldest at the Play—
Lest if He flinch—the eye that way
Pounce on His Bruises—One—say—or Three—
Grief is a Gourmand—spare His luxury—
Best Grief is Tongueless—before He'll tell—
Burn Him in the Public Square—
His Ashes—will
Possibly—if they refuse—How then know—
Since a Rack couldn't coax a syllable—now.
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Strange Times
Long time ago, back in the mist of time
Back when the crystal waters flowed
There was a world
So strange and so beautiful
All life would flourish and would grow
Years went by, time just fell away
Love was worshiped like the sun
But as we arrive at the house of the water sign
Were living in strange times
Strange times
Strange times
What do we need
What do we hunger for
Who holds the secrets, who will know
Temples of greed
In ruins on the river bed
Wastelands that lived before the snow
Time stands still
As we race through the universe
On our way to the sun
And as we arrive at the house of the water sign
Were living in strange times
Strange times,
Strange times
Its you and I forever
We wont be afraid
Even if the stars are falling down, down, down, down, down
Falling down
Time stands still as we race through the universe
On our way to the sun
And as we arrive at the house of the water sign
Were living in strange times
Strange times,
Strange times
(repeat)
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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House 155
Once upon a midnight dreary
Where light was
Weak and weary
Ghost and goblins Run to
House 155 in Mary
Trick or treat
Was there story
Until their
End was gory
The thunder clapped, lightening flashed.
they heard an evil cackle
A ruby liquid filled the house of 155
House 155
Go in but
not out alive
say trick our treat
a sure way to not survive
on all hollows eve
the house Zombies revive
A diabolical plan
They will contrive
To wait for the
Ghost and goblins to connive
Parent of ghost asking
'What happens to my seeds
tell me all me more'
Will the goblins live?
Qouth the physician nevermore
On Halloween
The goblins perish
And nothing more
Goblin that real name
Is john smith
Is now gone
For evermore
A trick or treater of
House 155
Is no more
Do you dare go to
House 155 on Halloween
I hope no one nevermore!
poem by Jose Duran
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