Home with a Soul
As you enter through the door,
And slowly step into the foyer,
You can’t help but exclaim,
Oh I am so glad I came.
The house was serene and vibrant,
I noticed as I sat in an instant.
It was decorated with love and care
To detail, with mix of modern and ethnic ware.
It didn’t seem to scream,
Please don’t touch me.
In the corner, a candle floated in an urn
The floor was adorned with a rangoli pattern.
It had quite a lived in look,
The shelves were lined with knick knacks and books.
Soft evening light was coming from outside
The view from the terrace was soothing to the eyes.
The breeze was tinkling the wind chimes
A little bird house hung from the pipe.
The fresh aroma of coffee
Wafted, as I gushingly complimented,
The hostess for creating such an ambience,
With the right mix of bright and muted colours.
Your home really has a soul, I said
Thanks, I am glad you feel so relaxed.
The sound of children came from a distance
Soon the house was full of guests
Each home has its distinct aura and energy,
Here I felt in a state of Zen and found rare synergy.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
My Red House
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
I once played in that red house
Shy was I, like a little mouse
Tippy toed I went looking around
Giggling, without making any sound
Happy was I to run around and play
My very own home to live and stay
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
Darkness came swiftly one night
A sense of something was not quite right
The shadows came across the wall
Covering my eyes, ready for my fall
The sounds of whips and chains dragged
against the floor
The sheer terror numbed me from looking
passed that door
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
The darkness slowly turned to grey
The black clouds lifting away
No longer trapped, I did not need to stay
Free was I to let go and make my own way
So ever slowly, opening that door
I could see the light and so much more
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
Changing and always moving
Never stopping and always wanting
Step by step, I shed all those tears
One at a time, I climbed up those stairs
Moving closer to where I want to be
No longer a child but an adult me
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
I came home today
The Red House, same as it was yesterday
Slowly, walking up that hill
Everything seems to be in a stand still
I could only stay for a while
Before the darkness comes within a mile
My Red House
Be quiet as a mouse
The breath of life you gave to me
But took away the child within me
No longer a pawn to your destruction
I have found my peace and resolution
Turning away towards the path of light
I see a very beautiful sight
My Red House
There is no longer a mouse
poem by Miu Miu Ayushi
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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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Get Out Of My House
(hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw!)
When you left, the door was
(slamming!)
You paused in the doorway
(slamming!)
As though a thought stole you away.
(slamming!)
I watched the world pull you away.
(lock it!)
So I run into the hall,
(lock it!)
Into the corridor.
(lock it!)
Theres a door in the house
(slamming).
I hear the lift descending.
(slamming!)
I hear it hit the landing,
(slamming!)
See the hackles on the cat
(standing).
With my key i
(lock it).
With my key i
(lock it up).
With my key i
(lock it).
With my key i
(lock it up).
I am the concierge chez-moi, honey.
Wont letcha in for love, nor money.
(let me in!)
My home, my joy.
Im barred and bolted and i
(wont let you in).
(get out of my house!)
No strangers feet
Will enter me.
(get out of my house!)
I wash the panes,
(get out of my house!)
I clean the stains away.
(get out of my house!)
This house is as old as I am.
(slamming.)
This house knows all I have done.
(slamming.)
They come with their weather hanging round them,
(slamming.)
But cant knock my door down!
(slamming.)
With my key i
(lock it).
With my key i
(lock it).
This house is full of m-m-my mess.
(slamming.)
This house is full of m-m-mistakes.
(slamming.)
This house is full of m-m-madness.
(slamming.)
This house is full of, full of, full of fight!
(slam it.)
With my keeper i
(clean up).
With my keeper i
(clean it all up).
With my keeper i
(clean up).
With my keeper i
(clean it all up).
I am the concierge chez-moi, honey.
Wont letcha in for love, nor money.
(its cold out here!)
My home, my joy.
Im barred and bolted and i
(get out of my house!)
(wont let you in).
(get out of my house!)
No strangers feet
(get out of my house!)
Will enter me.
(get out of my house!)
I wash the panes.
(get out of my house!)
I clean the stains.
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
Wont enter me.
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
Yeah! wont let you in!
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
Let me in!
Woman let me in!
Let me bring in the memories!
Woman let me in!
Let me bring in the devil dreams!
I will not let you in!
Dont you bring back the reveries.
I turn into a bird,
Carry further than the word is heard.
Woman let me in!
I turn into the wind.
I blow you a cold kiss,
Stronger than the songs hit.
I will not let you in.
I face towards the wind.
I change into the mule.
I change into the mule.
Hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw-hee-haw-hee-haw-hee-haw...
Hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw!
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New house
Stepping onto the hard floor,
no memories to be shared here,
thoughts are neutral no emotion,
the unnerving stench of staleness,
and unlived in state feels so impersonal,
so uncomfortable,
memories piled high in our old home,
and stored like books in my head,
it feels so cold here,
unexplainable feeling of fear,
no aroma of delicious food flowing through the house,
the rooms are not personalised,
just stripped bare,
dust flies through the air,
it can't be called a home yet,
it's just a house with inhabitants,
it can only be called mine,
but i will continue to see our previous house as home,
it'll take getting used to,
it'll take time,
i'll try and make it feel like mine now,
living in the new house.
poem by Emily Summers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not a Cage, But Stage, Where Hell or Heaven Is Built!
Each Soul is divine,
Divine journey of divine spark,
That journey as per divine plan!
Your children are not your children,
They are guests visiting you,
As scheduled by divine hands,
They are here with their own destiny and fate,
who is able to state, When who is at what state?
Your friends and relatives too,
Are on their journey own,
Remember the love and affection shown!
Love and understanding
are in the heart of those here rejoice,
Concentric spheres that look solid,
Just like Onions with layer after layer,
Nothing found when peeled,
But, Everything when properly lived!
Solid looking spheres are not solids,
They are energy layers,
waves of different pattern and kinds,
Ah! Look they are of different layers,
Matter that matters us,
is not the matter,
It is energy layers,
May be children or kiths and kins,
What we look is that
How we look,
How we look is what we are!
Our house is not our house until we own,
Our body is not ours,
Our mind is not our own,
Our soul is not ours,
Until we own and master it!
Our goal is not our goal,
Goalless we can't live,
Only goal we find here is peaceful coexistence,
peaceful exit from this Life's cage,
It is not the cage but the stage on which,
Hell or heaven built or felt!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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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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First 4 Stanzas of MY VERSION of 'The Raven' by E. A. Poe
Once upon a bright spring morning, while I pondered about the heat,
Over many a splendid and soothing volume of forgotten sound,
While I nodded, nearly speechless, suddenly there came a knocking.
As of someone gently tapping, tapping at my house all around.
' 'Tis some visitor, ' I whispered, 'tapping at my house all around-
Only this, 'twas all I found.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the sparkling April,
And each separate blooming flower circled the room round.
Eagerly, I wished for more- I had to try to find
A dog of some sort that could hunt- maybe something like a hound-
For the rare and radiant maiden so she could have a hound-
Nothing else that I had found.
And the vibrant, vibrating uncertain rustling of each blue curtain
Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic elation never felt before;
So that now, to still the fast beats of my heart, I stood saying
' 'Tis some visitor trying to come in at my door weighing a pound-
Some late visitor trying to come on at my door weighing a pound-
This it is, it was all I found.'
Presently my soul grew in strength; hesitating for a short time,
'Sir, ' said I, 'or Madam, truly you have great reason for being profound;
But the fact that you are here, and so gently you came knocking
And so faintly did I hear you, tapping at my house all around.
That I knew you would be here' - here I opened the door weighing a pound-
An angel there, with beautiful seraph sound.
poem by Rebecca Ryan
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The Dream: (For my Father)
Over and over again I dream a dream,
I am coming home to you in the starlit gloam;
Long was the day from you and sweet 'twill seem
The day is over and I am coming home.
Then I shall find you as in days long past,
Sitting so quietly in the firelight glow;
'Love,' you will say to me, 'you are come at last.'
Your eyes be glad of me as long ago.
All I have won since then will slip my hold,
Dear love and children, the long years away;
I shall come home to you the girl of old,
Glad to come home to you -- oh, glad to stay!
Often and often I am dreaming yet
Of the firelit window when I've crossed the hill
And I coming home to you from night and wet:
Often and often I am dreaming still.
Over and over again I dream my dream.
Ah, why would it haunt me if it wasn't true?
I am travelling home to you by the last red gleam,
In the quiet evening I am finding you.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Old House in the Glen
Winter has come and the wind and the rain
Wash over the house in the glen.
It cradles itself as if it were cold
For no one still lives within.
The years have passed over it, leaving it aged
And empty, and lost, without heart,
With no one to live there, no one to care
And the leaves are piled up on the hearth.
If you stand in the doorway, you can feel
Soft music that hangs in the air,
Like the soul of the house that ever lives on
Though there’s no longer any to hear.
The door is now gone, the windows un-paned,
The wood on the roof has gone slack.
But it still lingers on, as if waiting for
The people it loved to come back.
The old house listens, and waits, and sings
As the wind blows in through the door
And the beat of the heart of the house still sounds
Like the tread of their feet on the floor.
poem by Kate Wiley
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Its My House
(nickolas ashford/valerie simpson)
Its my house and I live here
(I wanna tell you)
Its my house and I live here
Theres a welcome mat at the door
And if you come on in
Youre gonna get much more
Theres my chair
I put it there
Everything you see
Is with love and care
Its my house and I live here
(I wanna tell you)
Its my house and I live here
On the table, there sits a rose
Through every window
A little light flows
Books of feeling on the shelf above
cause it was built for love
I was built for love
Its my house and I live here
(I wanna tell you)
Its my house and I live here
Theres a candle to light the stairs
Where my dreams await someone to share
Oh, theres music on the radio
And good vibrations wont let me go
I put my name on the ceilin above
cause it was buillt for love
It was built for love, ooh
You say you wanna move in with me
You say you wanna move in with me
Got to follow the rules to get me
Got to follow the rules to get me
You wanna visit my house
Say you wanna drop by
Wanna visit my house, yeah
To see me sometimes
Theres a welcome mat at the door
And if you come on in
Youre gonna get much more
I put my name in the ceilin above
cause it was built for love
It was built for love
Its my house and I live here
(I wanna tell you)
Its my house and I live here
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Christmas To Cherish And To Remember Always.
Christmas is the time to celebrate
precious memories with loved
ones,
Family and friends sit in front of
the fire place,
The scent of firewood burning,
Gives the house that fresh Christmas
smell,
We Feel the warmth through out
the house,
Making it cozy and relaxing,
Stockings hung up above the fire
place,
soon to be filled with toys big
and small,
Names written on each stocking,
colorfully laced and decorated,
We share old memories of how
things were in our childhood days,
Sipping and savoring every taste of
warm hot chocolate,
Christmas tree decorated from top to
bottom,
Lights twinkle, giving the Christmas
tree a magical look,
Christmas photos on the wall,
Christmas decoration surround us,
We have walked into a Christmas
house filled with holiday cheers,
And a Christmas wreath to fill the
guests with a cheerful greeting,
The scent of ginger bread cookies,
the aroma of cinnamon candles to
delight the guests,
This is a joyful and happy time of
the year,
A Christmas to cherish and to remember
always.
poem by Derek James
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The Festivity
The Festivity
The party has ended they have all gone home, the house sighs,
I open windows cooling air clears away the smell of perfume
and full ashtrays. Wine glasses everywhere on tables, shelves
on the floor. Empties have to be thrown in the bin, and glasses
have to be cleaned and put back in the cupboard. Got to do it
now, I don’t want to be faced with this task tomorrow morning.
I’m glad they came to my day; glad to be alone also; sad too.
I’m one year older and time seems so short, the ocean of life is
not endless and the horizon ends just beyond where the sun
goes down.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Perfidy
Hollow rang the house when I knocked on the door,
And I lingered on the threshold with my hand
Upraised to knock and knock once more:
Listening for the sound of her feet across the floor,
Hollow re-echoed my heart.
The low-hung lamps stretched down the road
With shadows drifting underneath,
With a music of soft, melodious feet
Quickening my hope as I hastened to meet
The low-hung light of her eyes.
The golden lamps down the street went out,
The last car trailed the night behind;
And I in the darkness wandered about
With a flutter of hope and of dark-shut doubt
In the dying lamp of my love.
Two brown ponies trotting slowly
Stopped at a dim-lit trough to drink:
The dark van drummed down the distance slowly;
While the city stars so dim and holy
Drew nearer to search through the streets.
A hastening car swept shameful past,
I saw her hid in the shadow,
I saw her step to the curb, and fast
Run to the silent door, where last
I had stood with my hand uplifted.
She clung to the door in her haste to enter,
Entered, and quickly cast
It shut behind her, leaving the street aghast.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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House or a Home?
Memories can be etched in stone,
inside houses that are not like homes.
Homes are where people care,
not pull out each other’s hair.
House’s store energy of what was there,
Happy thoughts, or your worst nightmare.
Some houses are where people cheat,
Home is where people meet and greet.
Luckily the soul of the house can be changed,
To a better energy and be renewed again.
Only people enter my home that are sincere,
if you are not you will not get near.
(September 4, 2011)
poem by Christina Sunrise
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A House Without Stairs
do not say
that without the stairs
the house is not a house anymore
without the ceiling
the more the house becomes to me
take the roof
if you want
or the beams
or even the floor and window frames
my house will still be a house
the sky its roof
the stretching grassy plain its floor
all the stars become
my magnificent ceiling
whatever is taken
we must imagine that all things are still there
lest we only have a house
that crashes on the floor
with all of us
dead
crushed to the death of
our imaginations
a door without an exit
because you have not seen hope coming
the lock and key
are all in the mind and heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cook Of The House
Ground rice, sugar, vinegar, seco salt, macaroni too,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
No matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best cause Im the cook of the house,
Cook of the house.
The salads in the bowl,
The rice is on the stove.
Green beans in the colander and where the res is heaven only knows.
Cinnamon, garlic, salt, pepper, corn-bread, curry powder, coffee too,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
No, matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best.
cause Im the cook of the house,
Cook of the house.
Where the rest is heaven only knows.
Matter where I serve my guests,
They seem to like the kitchen best cause Im the cook of the house.
Cook of the house,
Cook of the house,
Im the cook of the house.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Festival of Colours - Holi Hai! ! ! !
I heard familiar footsteps on the stairs,
Lo, in walked Anika with clips in her hair.
Come on Nani, I have come to play HOLI.
Take out the colours, let’s make Rangoli.
But darling, its still four days away,
So what, I feel like celebrating today.
See, I got water balloons and water gun,
Oh, she sang, we going to have such fun.
Yes, my dear I have been waiting for you,
Your visit, you know was long over due.
The house with her excited prattle alive
She laughed, danced and we did a jive.
Her vivacity is oh, so very infectious,
She is a darling, so very loving and precious.
I cautioned, we shall play on the terrace,
You can put as much colour you wish on my face.
Throw water balloons to your heart’s content.
Why, I don’t see any sweets, where are they kept?
Come on; right here, your favourite ones,
Can I eat and also take home some?
After lunch and a quick bath, she had a nap.
Adoringly, I just looked as she lay on my lap.
There were still tell tale marks of colour
On her face, forming patterns irregular.
Of all the roles in life I have to play
Time with her is sheer bliss and joy.
No expectations just love and affection,
Without any pretence and affectation.
Holi is an Indian festival of colours on the 11th March 2009-
Rangoli are patterns we make on festive occasions at the entrance
Of the house.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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From The Terrace
White house
brown roof
windows with outsretched arms
speak to my eyes
urging acceptance
Walls lift roof to gray sky
breeze flowing through the columns
floor, not for walking
but for ascending
request my steps
to be uplifted
Arches curve upwards
and downwards
dancing like the waves
invite me to join
all is in place
all agog with excitement
My soul flutters
knees buckle
and answer no
to House built with greed
not sweat of labour
Here I stay
on the terrace
watching house
not Home
blocks and roof
not sweat and contentment
poem by Mark Nwagwu
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A House Without Love
Recorded by: hank williams, sr.
Writer: hank williams, sr.
Capo: 4th fret/key: b/play: g
[g] for years we both have lived on pride, [d7] dear
And we agree that love is [g] gone
Why, oh why do we keep [d7] tryin
A house without love is not a [g] home. [g7]
The [c] lovelight in your eyes has [g] faded
And Im contented just to [d7] roam
We [g] slaved to gain a worthless [d7] treasure
A house without love is not a [g] home.
No matter where our footsteps wander
I know well both be all alone
With the pride that came between us
A house without love is not a home.
The simple things have gone forever
We wanted wealth to call our own
And now weve reached the hour of parting
A house without love is not a home.
song performed by by Hank Williams
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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