My footsteps resounds on the yellow wood floors
My footsteps resound
on yellow wood floors
and around me rooms are empty
as you have left
and have taken most of our possessions along.
Every step feels like into a strange place
and still I have been living here for years
and everything is really well known
and I hear the dogs barking outside
even before my cellular phone rings
and your lover wants to talk to me
and I send him straight to hell,
but he phones again
and says that he is outside at the gate.
I tell him that I am not interested
and to drive off
but still he stays
and the dogs and I
have the inclination
to get hold of him
and when I come out of the house
there is thunder in me
and at the gate he drives away
with screaming tires
ripping the grass out
of the sidewalk
and stripes are left on the tar road.
I make some tea
while my blood is boiling
and want to phone you, but what the hell
and whatever you want
can go and lie with your lap dog
and I have nothing more to say to you
and the house is empty without you
and without your children’s voices,
but there a serenity folding over me
and I am without you
and it’s a blessing
the value of that I note much later.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Cell Phone Mania
Cell phones to the right,
Cell phones to the left,
Cell phones, cell phones,
everywhere I look.
Red alert, stop! Listen,
shut up and drive,
shut up and read,
Cell phones, why so many.
Everyone talking,
cell phones in cars,
cell phones in bars,
eating places, cell phones.
There you can't escape
from them, you say
to yourself, the restroom,
no one would dare
use cell phone in there,
oh no, I hear someone,
talking to me, I answer them,
oh, sorry sir, did not know you
were on cell phone.
Oh, so many,
shut up, and walk.
Do away with cell phones,
and it would be like,
the crash of '29'.
People need cell phones,
sometimes their nice,
to have, but so many,
cell phones, might
as well join them
if you can't lick 'em,
join them.
Cell phone, cell phone
now how do I use this
thing, oh cell phone, cell phone,
Hello, Hello, oh that's
you mert.
wrote 1-19-07
By The Time I Get To Phoenix
(jim webb)
By the time I get to phoenix hell be risin
Hell find the note I left hangin on his door
And hell laugh when he reads the part that says Im leavin
cause Ive left that man so many times before
By the time I make albuquerque hell be workin
Hell probably stop at lunch and give me a call
But hell just hear that phone keep on ringin
Off the wall, thats all
By the time I make oklahoma hell be sleepin
Hell turn softly and call my name out low
And hell cry just to think Id really leave him
Though time and time Ive tried to tell him so
Oh, he just didnt know
I would really go
I would really go
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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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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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Hell In House
It's Friday morning
i wake up from my death
i star scream
because i saw blood in the floor
i put my t-shirt and my shoes
and i got from house i got away from
I want to get away from this
to get away from my hell the hell of house
is the most dangerous place
i start to scream
i get away from this hole
i get away from house (house)
i run away from this street
this town
i start to get away from this life and rest in peace
i wish i have and one more chance
I want to get away from this
to get away from my hell the hell of house
is the most dangerous place
and now i wish
i want a really want
to trade this life from an another (another, another)
another place another year another country
please i don't want this!
I want to get away from this
to get away from my hell the hell of house
is the most dangerous place
poem by Sp9ke Draco
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Muckleneuk Ridge
We sat between packed boxes
in a sold house
and I made some tea
and while we drank
the hot liquid
I told you that I
cannot afford the mansion
in Muckleneuk Ridge
near Unisa University
of which the rent included
water and electricity.
The two boys
were playing outside
with the dogs
throwing a tennis ball
for them
and we could hear
their laughter and excitement
coming in.
It was a really grand place,
with five bedrooms, a study,
a very big lounge
and had a great modern kitchen.
It had huge rooms
with private entrances,
yellow wood floors,
pine ceilings,
a braai aria at the back
and sprinklers
in a huge garden.
You didn’t want to take
no for an answer,
started crying
and went on you knees
begging me please
and embraced my legs.
That house had caught
your heart,
spoke to something
in your soul
and made you truly
feel like a lady.
I helped you to your feet
drawing you up
by you hands
and we embraced.
There wasn’t much
that I could do, but to agree
and although we cut the finances,
I had to make a plan.
That house was like palace,
it was near to the highway
to Johannesburg
(where I worked) ,
right for the children’s school
right for your work
and just the place for you.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Empty House
A house that's always empty
always feels its pain.
It's hollow and it's lifeless
and knows that it's insane
to shelter not a single soul
and hear no welcome sounds
because all of its rooms are vacant
and emptiness surrounds
its space.
A house that's always empty
wears a lonely face.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Home With Our Dogs
four dogs since the latest one
died hit by a truck when it tries to cross the street
without us watching,
four playful dogs in the house
the only animals who miss us when we are away
the same ones who welcome us
when we are back at home
they say that it is expensive to raise and feed
and give shelter to four dogs in the house
no, no, not at all
they do not go to school
neither do we pay them their salaries for pleasing us
they do not harm at all
and demand holiday pay and other allowances
nothing about retirement schemes
and SSS premiums
there is no problem about betrayal either
these four dogs in the house
if you must know, are our children
since we have none
at all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ravens Caw
The ravens caw,
Raps around my flesh,
It ravages my mind,
Like an empty house.
Empty yet not, as scarred is the lover of this house,
Her words are bitter,
But they echo sweetly in this empty house.
Yet the ravens caw,
Has, left its mark, on my flesh.
poem by GuyAdler Dorelien
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Leaving an old ancestral house...
i always remember someone leaving the house with a heavy heart. I sympathize. My heart is also heavy.
It is dark and someone carries a bag and begins to step away.
The steps become fainter.
I like to help. I suggest he stays. But Papa is vehement
and decisive.
Many years ago, five or ten people already left this house.
I stayed. I keep on staying.
The house is empty now.
I have decided not to listen anymore about the sound of emptiness.
The house of Gregorio must fall.
Everyone here dies.
I want to live. And so i must go somewhere else.
Where there are no hands that will choke me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Horrible Sounds
We all have sounds that we like
noises that can give us a thrill
but what about those we don't
such as the dreaded Dentists Drill?
Dogs barking can be really annoying
after a while it can drive you up the wall
and when I was a kid I got on my parents nerves
for using the side of the house to kick my ball.
Fingernails scraping down a blackboard is grating
that's even worse than an irritating mobile ringtone
like your sitting in the cinema enjoying a film
when someones forgot to switch off their bloody phone.
The sound of a person vomiting is pretty gross
in fact the noise can make you feel sick too
and what about the sound of a baby constantly crying
or your friend sniffing away saying they've got the Flu?
A door or gate that creaks can get you all edgy
as can the sound of rustling paper or cellophane
but the noise I hate more than any of these
is the sound of money being poured down the drain!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Death Of The Baby
The death of the baby
the family went for a walk
the dog ran off
the mum and dad started to talk
“do u know our sons a goth”
they felt a breeze
it was getting cold
they started to freeze
as they get old
they all go home
the baby starts crying
y mums on the phone
the dad goes paragliding
the baby pulls the dogs tail
the dog growls
but it was an epic fail
the loud sound of the dogs howl
the mum jumps up
and grabs the dogs collar
throws the cup
the dog rips her kids bottle dollar
the mum smacks the dog
the dog gets mad
and runs outside it to the fog
the mother is sad
she rings the dad
“gets back here now”
“the dogs been bad”
the dad runs over a cow
gets out the car
sees the dog
but hes not far
but dissapears into the fog
he drives home
the baby is dead
and there alone
the baby bit on its head
at the funeral they cried
never got a dog again
every 1 was by there side
but now this is THE END
poem by Arron John
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The House Beside The Road
The house beside the road,
Where people lived
And children played,
Is empty now
And falling down.
The echos of happy feet
Are heard now,
Tapping to the sound
Of Poppy's fiddle,
But the house beside the road
Is empty.
When a gentle voice
Is heard in the house,
It's only a singing breeze
Sifting itself through
The cracks in the roof of
The house beside the road.
poem by Scarlett Treat
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Haunted
(GillanGloverPaiceMorseAirey)
I hear the beating of your wings
And you're playing on my strings
In mysterious ways
You draw me in
To a love
Beyond all understanding
Beyond my reach
So far away
But it seems
Like only yesterday
I'm Haunted
Haunted
Is that what you wanted
All that's left
Is the ghost of your smile
It stays awhile
Then fades away
I hear your footsteps on the ground
Tempting me to turn around
It's just the echo
Of a disenchanted lover
Shuffling aimlessly
Homeward bound
To empty rooms
And picture frames
And Friends
Who can't recall our names
I'm Haunted
Haunted
Is that what you wanted
All that's left
Is the ghost of your smile
It stays awhile
Then fades away
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whole Day Off
Have you seen my girlfriend
She lives in a pig pen
Have you seen my girlfriend
I cant seem to find her
Perhaps she is hiding
Underneath a blade of grass
Chorus
Lets take the whole day off
Lets take the whole day off
Lets take the whole day off . . .
Have you seen my new house
Looks just like a dog house
Have you seen my new house
Someone saw it walking
Straight into the ocean
He thought it was an ivory boat
Chorus
Bridge
Maybe--its just a bad dream and Ill wake up soon
But I dont think Ill be so lucky
Maybe--its just one of those strange days when nothing seems right
No nothing seems right at all
Went up to a pay phone on a bathroom wall
But I cant remember who I want to call
Operator can you help me
Have you seen my garden
It is most peculiar
Have you seen my garden
Nothing there that grows
Looks anything at all like plants
I hear their voices . . .
Lets take the whole day off . . .
Chorus
Have you seen my girlfriend
Have you seen my girlfriend . . .
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shared Loneliness
A house is empty if you're alone.
Its rooms are too quiet for it's known
loneliness too, just like you.
It echoes with hollowness
and creaks with despair
for the lone figure it houses
has no one to share
its rooms.
It hears the steps of the solitary one.
It hears the sighs that weigh like a ton
on its floors and walls
where the sadness crawls.
It longs to be filled
with conversational tones
filling up its rooms.
The bedroom is lonely
and the living room too.
The kitchen has a setting for one
and only one cup of coffee to brew.
These rooms can house all of the pain
that lonesomeness brings and still remain
loyal to the one who's alone.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The New-England Boy's Song About Thanksgiving Day
Over the river, and through the wood,
To grandfather's house we go;
The horse knows the way,
To carry the sleigh,
Through the white and drifted snow.
Over the river, and through the wood,
To grandfather's house away!
We would not stop
For doll or top,
For 't is Thanksgiving Day.
Over the river, and through the wood,
Oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes,
And bites the nose,
As over the ground we go.
Over the river, and through the wood,
With a clear blue winter sky,
The dogs do bark,
And children hark,
As we go jingling by.
Over the river, and through the wood,
To have a first-rate play-
Hear the bells ring
Ting a ling ding,
Hurra for Thanksgiving Day!
Over the river, and through the wood-
No matter for winds that blow;
Or if we get
The sleigh upset,
Into a bank of snow.
Over the river, and through the wood,
To see little John and Ann;
We will kiss them all,
And play snow-ball,
And stay as long as we can.
Over the river, and through the wood,
Trot fast, my dapple grey!
Spring over the ground,
Like a hunting hound,
For 't is Thanksgiving Day!
Over the river, and through the wood,
And straight through the barn-yard gate;
We seem to go
Extremely slow,
It is so hard to wait.
Over the river, and through the wood-
Old Jowler hears our bells;
He shakes his pow,
With a loud bow wow,
And thus the news he tells.
Over the river, and through the wood-
When grandmother sees us come,
She will say, Oh dear,
The children are here,
Bring a pie for every one.
Over the river, and through the wood-
Now grandmother's cap I spy!
Hurra for the fun!
Is the pudding done?
Hurra for the pumpkin pie!
poem by Lydia Maria Francis Child
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