To Be a Palace
This house carries skies of life,
A pleasant country where it grows
Into a mansion, and then palace
So rich and glorious.
At frequent intervals the growth
Has a spurt, a spurt of energy;
Walking in and rising over
An inhabitant is a combatant.
The somewhat cold gleam
Entered the sticks and stones
Of the walls of the house,
It shivered for all time.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
If you cut off your arm instead of going 'spurt, spurt, spurt' wouldn't it, like, go nuts? Or would it go with the beat of your heart?
quote by Elijah Wood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I did not have implants, I just had a growth spurt.
quote by Britney Spears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The House Of The Rising Sun
There is a house down in new orleans
Down in the vieux carre
A house they call the rising sun
Where love and money are made
My father he was a gambler
Mother died when I was young
And Ive worked since then
To please the men
At the house of the rising sun
There is a house
Down in new orleans
They call the rising sun
Its been the ruin of many a good girl
And oh god, you know Im one
So mothers you go telling all your daughters
Not to do what Ive done
To live a life of sin, shame and strife
In the house of the rising sun
There is a house in new orleans
They call the rising sun
Its been the ruin of many a good girl
And oh god, you know Im one
Oh god, you know Im one
song performed by by Dolly Parton
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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About Us......
our sensitivities
grow in a glass house
hardened
by incoming stones
who is afraid of the pieces
of broken glasses?
our wrists are experienced
sufferers
they heal themselves in
due time
we know what the word
endure means
by heart
we are devoured somehow
but still whole
in those vomits
do they find us bitter pills?
don't they know that we are the cure
of those unreasonable fears?
those stones turn out
to be marshmallows getting more
delicious looking
at the flames
on those cold evenings
beneath the
darkness in the forest
we eats stones
no longer afraid of indigestion
our guts
have kept the morning glories
glorious gods
with hardened walls
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In This City
In this city of old men I cry for infinite goodness,
Inside I discover the pride of a man in weeping;
He has old age and wants to attain new phases,
The very beautiful houses are in the construction,
Yet who will they house if the inhabitant is not him?
In this healthy hospital I leave the walls of the place,
And charge my body with the weapon called the mind;
A palace is fought, and not a castle is fought,
For the king and queen are present and waiting.
You need to experience the amount of time on offer.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Deserted House
Life and Thought have gone away
Side by side,
Leaving door and windows wide.
Careless tenants they!
All within is dark as night:
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before.
Close the door; the shutters close;
Or through the windows we shall see
The nakedness and vacancy
Of the dark deserted house.
Come away: no more of mirth
Is here or merry-making sound.
The house was builded of the earth,
And shall fall again to ground.
Come away: for Life and Thought
Here no longer dwell;
But in a city glorious -
A great and distant city -have bought
A mansion incorruptible.
Would they could have stayed with us!
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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I'll build you a house!
You lady so bewitching, is your charm,
You lady, disarmed is me, your arrow, my heart is struck
As weaver birds do their houses, on tree tops
As ants make, colonies, for their queens,
As my ancestors, spear in blood they had dipped,
That, their grand sons, would build houses, for their loved ones
So, I'll build you a house, my queen,
Where my ancestors had pointed, with their walking sticks
A place with tall grass where marks were made with sticks
We'll watch the sunsets, and bless the rising moon.
I'll build you a house, my queen!
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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A House In The Country
He don't need no sedatives to ease his troubled mind.
At work he is invariably unpleasant and unkind.
Why should he care if he is hated in his home,
'Cause he's gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
He's gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
But he ain't gotta home, oh no,
And he's as wicked as he can be,
'Cause he's gotta house in the country
Where he likes to spend his weekend days.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, well all right
Well, he got his job when drunken Daddy tumbled down the stairs.
From that very day this boy is more than having his share.
One of these days I'm gonna knock him off of his throne,
'Cause he's gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
He's gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
And he's oh so smug, oh yeah.
He's got everything he needs,
'Cause he's gotta house in the country
Where he likes to spend his weekend days.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, well all right
And he's oh so smug, oh yeah.
He's got everything he needs,
'Cause he's gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
He's gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
But he's socially dead, oh yeah,
And it don't matter much to him,
'Cause he's gotta house in the country
Where he likes to spend his weekend days.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, well all right
House in the country
House in the country
House in the country
House in the country
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House In The Country
He dont need no sedatives to ease his troubled mind.
At work he is invariably unpleasant and unkind.
Why should he care if he is hated in his home,
cause hes gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
Hes gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
But he aint gotta home, oh no,
And hes as wicked as he can be,
cause hes gotta house in the country
Where he likes to spend his weekend days.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, well all right
Well, he got his job when drunken daddy tumbled down the stairs.
From that very day this boy is more than having his share.
One of these days Im gonna knock him off of his throne,
cause hes gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
Hes gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
And hes oh so smug, oh yeah.
Hes got everything he needs,
cause hes gotta house in the country
Where he likes to spend his weekend days.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, well all right
And hes oh so smug, oh yeah.
Hes got everything he needs,
cause hes gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
Hes gotta house in the country,
And a big sports car.
But hes socially dead, oh yeah,
And it dont matter much to him,
cause hes gotta house in the country
Where he likes to spend his weekend days.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, well all right
House in the country
House in the country
House in the country
House in the country
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sea Parting
The sea shall part before your eyes
And you will not learn of darkness.
The heart grows fond of this miracle
As length of the rivers do not match.
We are in safety, we are in a house
That worked upstairs and downstairs.
Some lights are delighting the company
In the house or palace of wonders.
This night the lights are out
With the sea parting forcing us to drown
With the lights off, with the house in floods.
The real saviour is the man in the house
Who is the landlord, the only warrior of water.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The House Where Love Lives
A squeaky gate a welcome lock a big shaggy dog that lives out back
And some might even call it a shack but this is the house where love lives
The paint is peelin' off of the cells the mailbox is full of bills
And it's no mansion on the hill but this is the house where love lives
There's a little boy who looks just you with freckles on his nose and eyes of blue
A little girl almost two and everybody says she looks just like you
So thank you dear for loving me though I know rich we'll never be
But that doesn't matter to you and me cause we live in the house where love lives
[ steel ]
So thank you dear for loving me though I know rich we'll never be
But that doesn't matter to you and me cause we live in the house where love lives
We live in the house where love lives
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every spirit makes its house, and we can give a shrewd guess from the house to the inhabitant.
quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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The South Country
When I am living in the Midlands
That are sodden and unkind,
I light my lamp in the evening:
My work is left behind;
And the great hills of the South Country
Come back into my mind.
The great hills of the South Country
They stand along the sea;
And it's there walking in the high woods
That I could wish to be,
And the men that were boys when I was a boy
Walking along with me.
The men that live in North England
I saw them for a day:
Their hearts are set upon the waste fells,
Their skies are fast and grey;
From their castle-walls a man may see
The mountains far away.
The men that live in West England
They see the Severn strong,
A-rolling on rough water brown
Light aspen leaves along.
They have the secret of the Rocks,
And the oldest kind of song.
But the men that live in the South Country
Are the kindest and most wise,
They get their laughter from the loud surf,
And the faith in their happy eyes
Comes surely from our Sister the Spring
When over the sea she flies;
The violets suddenly bloom at her feet,
She blesses us with surprise.
I never get between the pines
But I smell the Sussex air;
Nor I never come on a belt of sand
But my home is there.
And along the sky the line of the Downs
So noble and so bare.
A lost thing could I never find,
Nor a broken thing mend:
And I fear I shall be all alone
When I get towards the end.
Who will there be to comfort me
Or who will be my friend?
I will gather and carefully make my friends
Of the men of the Sussex Weald;
They watch the stars from silent folds,
They stiffly plough the field.
By them and the God of the South Country
My poor soul shall be healed.
If I ever become a rich man,
Or if ever I grow to be old,
I will build a house with deep thatch
To shelter me from the cold,
And there shall the Sussex songs be sung
And the story of Sussex told.
I will hold my house in the high wood
Within a walk of the sea,
And the men that were boys when I was a boy
Shall sit and drink with me.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
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Genius without religion is only a lamp on the outer gate of a palace; it may serve to cast a gleam on those that are without while the inhabitant sits in darkness.
quote by Hannah More
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My House
This is my house,
Treat it as such,
It is where I dwell.
It is my castle,
I am it's king,
It is where, I alone prevail.
I set the rules,
For which we live,
For my wife, child and I
If you cannot accept them,
If you only reject them,
Please, just step outside.
This is my house!
I support it with two hands,
Liken the one, my father once owned.
And when I got married,
And I took me a bride,
My house, became our home.
I'll fight for the rights,
For which it stands,
To shelter, my family and I,
To protect ourselves,
And to raise our family,
And for that, I would surely die.
Though it may not be a castle,
It may not be a mansion,
But of its four walls I am proud.
For many memories are here,
Many hopes and dreams lie there,
For this is my house, our home.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Genius without religion is only a lamp on the outer gate of a palace; it may serve to cast a gleam of light on those that are without, while the inhabitant sits in darkness.
quote by Hannah More
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forgetting
I have been having a lot of heat
While at rest or moving, I thought
I could be rich just by selling
The energy in the market hungry
The heat was restless rising temperature
Was I suffering from fever?
Whatever it was, when ever I sat down
To count would be amount in the account
With a pen and paper, surprisingly
I feel very cold suddenly,
Relieved but feel very uneasy
As I lost the would be money
I could not sell; I could not change my destiny!
What a pity! It is all the forgetting to blame
If I would not have forgotten, I could be a rich
But would be a mad man, which one I would be
Preferred rich or mad? The temperature is rising again
Not due to heat this time but for the thought
My life is in serious crisis as in the desert or drought.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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23feb14 The Day After: This House
an earthquake here
like that this house
will fall judgement day
I have made my choices
but where really
is your house built?
a house
built
on sand?
or a house built
on the rock mass?
better a tin shack
in heaven
or a mansion in hell?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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