The Man with the Wooden Leg
There was a man lived quite near us;
He had a wooden leg and a goldfinch in a green cage.
His name was Farkey Anderson,
And he'd been in a war to get his leg.
We were very sad about him,
Because he had such a beautiful smile
And was such a big man to live in a very small house.
When he walked on the road his leg did not matter
so much;
But when he walked in his little house
It made an ugly noise.
Little Brother said his goldfinch sang the loudest of
all birds,
So that he should not hear his poor leg
And feel too sorry about it.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Johnny McCarthy
He lived in a small house near the Town of Millstreet
At Inchaleigh close to the greyhound track
Some knew him as Johnny the old house painter
Whilst others simply called him Johnny Mac.
He was unmarried never fathered children
Which seems a pity as he'd have made a good dad
In his twilight years he walked his terrier Brandy
And Johnny said the best dog I have had.
He was a house painter and decorator
And he worked hard to earn his every bob
And those he worked for gave him more employment
For Johnny always did a tasty job.
Some people thought him to be a bit grumpy
But is there a perfect person anyway?
When hung over after a night out drinking
One can hardly feel too cheerful the next day.
He was an honest man Johnny McCarthy
A character of sorts in his own way
Since he last walked to Millstreet Town with his dog Brandy
On looking back it seems like yesterday.
Some knew him as Johnny the old house painter
Whilst others simply called him Johnny Mac
He lived at Inchaleigh close to the Town of Millstreet
In his small house close to the greyhound track
poem by Francis Duggan
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light-Mystery
The light
Came closer
Walked right
Next to me
I walked with it
Sometimes,
Sometimes it
Walked with me
Into my life
Where I walked not
With it
And made me be
What I was not.
The light it entered in
And lived inside of me
I lived in it,
Sometimes,
Sometimes it
lived in me
When I lived not in it
And made me be
When I was not
I hold the light sometimes,
Sometimes the light holds me.
Until I am the light
I live in mystery.
poem by Mary Mc Creath
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Outside the House
Walking yesterday in an outlying neighbourhood,
I went by the house
I used to go to when I was very young.
There Eros with his wonderful power
laid hold of my body.
And yesterday
when I walked down the old road,
shops, pavement, stones,
walls and balconies and windows-
all were suddenly made beautiful by the spell of love:
there was nothing ugly left there.
And as I stood staring at the door,
stood lingering outside the house,
my whole being radiated
the sensual passion stored up inside me.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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call-Encounter - walking with
The light
Came closer
Lived right
Next to me
I walked with it
Sometimes,
Sometimes it
Walked with me
When I walked not
With it
And made me be
When I was not.
Living In
The light it entered in
And lived inside of me
I lived in it,
Sometimes,
Sometimes it lived in me
When I lived not in it
And made me be
When I was not
Abiding In
I hold the light sometimes,
Sometimes the light holds me.
Until I reach the light
I live in mystery
poem by Mary Mc Creath
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On Hearing And Seeing A Goldfinch
The last day of October a balmy day of Spring
And on highest branch of a blackwood tree a sunlit goldfinch sing
His twittering notes unmistakeable so pleasant for to hear
One of the smaller songsters of the Springtime of the year.
With red around beak and of grey, brown and fawn and gold
A sunlit goldfinch in song is quite lovely to behold
You do not need to see him you know him by his song
One whose voice is familiar and you never can get wrong.
In a cup shaped nest of rootlets lined with down, lichen and bits of hay
Four to seven bluish white eggs the female bird she lay
Her mate he does the singing whilst she hatches her eggs to life
One cannot say about her that she is not a good wife.
The last day of October 'tis so breezy and bright
And a goldfinch is singing in the warm sunlight
Butterflies flit around the flower beds and the dark brown honey bees
Are buzzing whilst gathering nectar from the blossoming bushes and trees.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Hollow Wood
Out in the sun the goldfinch flits
Along the thistle-tops, flits and twits
Above the hollow wood
Where birds swim like fish -
Fish that laugh and shriek -
To and fro, far below
In the pale hollow wood.
Lichen, ivy, and moss
Keep evergreen the trees
That stand half-flayed and dying,
And the dead trees on their knees
In dog's-mercury and moss:
And the bright twit of the goldfinch drops
Down there as he flits on thistle-tops.
poem by Edward Thomas
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She Walked Barefoot...
she walked barefoot,
across them factory floors,
down that gravel road,
across the yard,
and into that old house.
she walked barefoot,
across them kitchen floors,
down that long hallway,
across the floor to the bed.
she walked barefoot,
between them garden rows,
out in the fields,
down through the pines
to the creek.
she walked barefoot,
down them hospital halls,
down the aisles of the church,
out in the cementary
to the grave...
she walked barefoot,
into the arms of eternity,
and i'd give all i am
to wash her feet
with my tears!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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May Song
BIRDS in the green of my garden
Blackbirds and throstle and wren,
Wet your dear wings in the tears that are Spring's
And so to your singing again!
Birds in my blossoming orchard,
Chaffinch and goldfinch and lark,
Preen your bright wings, little happy live things;
The May trees grow white in the park!
Birds in the leafy wet woodlands,
Cuckoo and nightingale brown,
Sing to the sound of the rain on green ground--
The rain on green leaves dripping down!
Fresh with the rain of the May-time,
Rich with the promise of June,
Deep in her heart, where the little leaves part,
Love, like a bird, sings in tune!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Poor House
You walk in, half past nine
Lookin like a queen
Serving me with papers
Calling me obscene
Woman Ive tried so hard
Just to do my best
Theyre gonna put me in the poor house
And youll take all the rest
Up all day, down all night
Working on the job
Everything I do is wrong
I always end up [..]
Woman I try so hard
Done all I can do.
Theyre gonna put me in the poor house
Keep all the best for you.
Ooh, in the poor house
Ooh, in the poor house
If a drove a pulpwood truck
Would you love me more?
Will you bring me diamonds
And hang around my door
Woman, Ive done my best
Theyre aint much left for me
Theyre gonna put me in the poor house
And throw away the key (in the poor house)
Ooh, in the poor house
You walked in, half past nine
Lookin like a queen
Serving me with papers
Calling me obscene
Woman Ive tried so hard
Just to do my best
Theyre gonna put me in the poor house
And youll take all the rest
In the poor house
Ooh, in the poor house
In the poor house
Ooh, in the poor house
song performed by by George Harrison
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
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They Are Tearing Down My Grandfather's House
(An NLP Editor's Choice Award Winner in Verdant Lands of Spring) They are tearing down my Grandfather's house,
it's made of wood and brick and stone.
The windows they've removed. To them it's real
estate, to me it's my heart being ripped in two.
The realtors, the bankers, the moneymen don't understand.
A house is more than made of wood, a house is made of man. My Grandfather's house is a memory that will
endure after it's torn down.
He's been gone for near thirty years, but his
house had lived on.
I know the world is made of change, and change
is all that's real. But one thing I cannot change,
that is the way I feel. I wipe a tear in the falling rain,
because they are tearing down my Grandfather's
house, and it gives me pain.
I love him as if it were yesteryear,
his wit and smile as warm as the sun.
The house once stood to remind me, but that too
is gone. They are tearing down my Grandfather's house,
it's made of wood and brick and stone.
Yet a house if more than made of wood,
a house is made of love.
poem by David A. Webb
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Past a house
We yesterday
drove past a house
near a shopping centre
and at the front wall
the plaster was broken,
the garden that was something
at a time
was treaded to pieces
and left uncared.
The front door hanged decaying
and when my eyes
walked down the corridor
some of the ceiling was missing,
and the wooden floor
was being used for firewood
It seemed as if the house
was now really becoming a ruin
and a naked black toddler
were crawling outside
and a very thin dog
looked as if it never got food
and my darling said:
“We stayed here at a time
and once this house
belonged to us
and it was a beautiful place
and just see how it looks now.”
poem by Gert Strydom
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By The Fireside : The Open Window
The old house by the lindens
Stood silent in the shade,
And on the gravelled pathway
The light and shadow played.
I saw the nursery windows
Wide open to the air;
But the faces of the children,
They were no longer there.
The large Newfoundland house-dog
Was standing by the door;
He looked for his little playmates,
Who would return no more.
They walked not under the lindens,
They played not in the hall;
But shadow, and silence, and sadness
Were hanging over all.
The birds sang in the branches,
With sweet, familiar tone;
But the voices of the children
Will be heard in dreams alone!
And the boy that walked beside me,
He could not understand
Why closer in mine, ah! closer,
I pressed his warm, soft hand!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Like Cockatoos
She walked out of her house
And looked around
At all the gardens that looked
Back at her house
(like all the faces
That quiz when you smile...)
And he was standing
At the corner
Where the road turned dark
A part of shiny wet
Like blood the rain fell
Black down on the street
And kissed his feet she fell
Her head an inch away from heaven
And her face pressed tight
And all around the night sang out
Like cockatoos
"there are a thousand things" he said
"i'll never say those things to you again"
And turning on his heel
He left a trace of bubbles
Bleeding in his stead
And in her head
A picture of a boy who left her
Lonely in the rain
(and all around the night sang out like cockatoos)
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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When you walked in my life...
When you walked in my life
You wiped my tears
When you walked in my life
You built my heart strong
When you walked in my life
You made my life precious
When you walked in my life
You taught me meaning of love
When you walked in my life
You showed me many things
When you walked in my life
You made my love grow for you
When you walked in my life
You told me how much I mean to you
When you walked in my life
You made your caring soul inside me
When you walked in my life
You gave me memories to cherish forever
And I will there for you till my eyes close dear
poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Truly Great
My walls outside must have some flowers,
My walls within must have some books;
A house that's small; a garden large,
And in it leafy nooks.
A little gold that's sure each week;
That comes not from my living kind,
But from a dead man in his grave,
Who cannot change his mind.
A lovely wife, and gentle too;
Contented that no eyes but mine
Can see her many charms, nor voice
To call her beauty fine.
Where she would in that stone cage live,
A self-made prisoner, with me;
While many a wild bird sang around,
On gate, on bush, on tree.
And she sometimes to answer them,
In her far sweeter voice than all;
Till birds, that loved to look on leaves,
Will doat on a stone wall.
With this small house, this garden large,
This little gold, this lovely mate,
With health in body, peace in heart--
Show me a man more great.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Family Homes
everybody's mother is beautiful and brave
but my mother was little bit different
And was at the top of them
she was the bravest...the most beautiful..and the cleverest
we lived in a house
a very very ancient an and old house
ı ts plaster worn out and falling down
once a big and beautiful of our nomad ancestors
the camels of the long caravans used to rest in its garden
now the rooms of the house is rented to families in poverty
the kitchen...and laundry and washing were common for all
there was a in wall cupboard for bath in every room
in one of this rooms upstairs we lived
my mother..my brother and me
hiring it
they called these rooms faqmiliy homes
in turkish
in our homeland in turkey
in one of these rooms
lived shoe maker...rather a cobbler
with his son..daughter and wife
they were our beloved neighbours
he own the the room from his ancestors
the cobbler loved hunting
and had a peculı ar political opinion of his own
at downstairs
ther was a workman
came from his village
a very poor family indeed
wherever he found he worked
if he could
my mother used to help the family
she was found of this very very
one day ı heard the family went to germany
for food and living
my brother and me
were attending to a boarding school in istanbul
we used to come to our family home
in summer vacations
we were very happy in yhose days
with our room neighbours
my brother me and my mother
but theese poor happy did not last long
we grew up
my brother an archaeology professor
me a district governor
but we have never forgotten
those family houses
and the friendship and solı darı ty in them
we remember
those family houses from time to time
they are demolished now
high buildings are erected in their places
and my mother gone heaven in 14th dec ember 1994
her grave near a cross road waiting
ı always pray for her
ı feel she is always near me..guarding me
she was the bravest...most beauı tiful and the cleverest
ı have ever seen
life is not an easy plaything
poem by Metin Sahin
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Walk By
ock and roll!
she walked down to the store at 8
the devil walks with her and he thinks shes great
when he looked at me i dont know wat i saw
i think hes trying to make me his son in law
when she walked by
walked by
walked by
she walked on by
walked by
walked by
walked by
she walked on by
egos fly and she walks by
she caught my eye on october ninth
thats 22 days before halloween
how did i know shed be my evil queen
when she walked by
walked by
walked by
she walked on by
walked by
walked by
walked by
she walked on by
my mother warned me against girls like you
she said stay away from them son you know they arent true
all there gonna do is put you under their spell
and when your going down your going straight to hell
walk by
walk by
walk by
im gonna walk on by
walk by
walk by
walk by
im gonna walk on by
walk on by
walk on by
walk on by
walk on by
song performed by by Good Charlotte from Good Charlotte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walking the road to Emmaus
Their eyes were downcast and the pace was slow.
Why these things had happened they did not know.
On their shoulders they bore grief's heavy load
as they walked that long Emmaus road.
A stranger joined them as they walked that way.
Slowed His pace to hear what they had to say.
Step by step He walked along with them there
and then the scriptures He began to share.
Eyes restrained and holden they did not know
Who it was that joined them walking so slow.
In fellowship sweet He expounded God's word
and their hearts glowed at everything they heard.
From Moses through the Prophets He made known
of an open tomb and a heavenly throne.
They listened carefully as this Man talked
as together the Emmaus road they walked.
'Did not the Christ have to suffer', He said
'and then He was to be raised up from the dead.'
As they approached the place they were going
He acted as though He would not go in.
'The day is far spent, stay with us, ' they said
and then He entered their house and broke the bread.
At once their eyes were opened and they knew
it was Jesus, but He vanished from their view.
'Did not our heart burn within us, ' they said
then up they got and off to Jerusalem sped.
Found the disciples and said 'It is true.'
The Lord is risen and we've seen Him too.