Ruben's Mansion
it is not a house
in fact, it is a white mansion
placed on a one-hectare lot
surrounded by a well-manicured
garden and flowering shrubs
and fruit trees
one that everyone cannot but
always admire
when they come
and watch
Ruben's mansion
taking 2 years to finish
and 12 million pesos
in expenditures
as you go inside
the glass door opens
leading you
to a living room
twice as large
as my own house
in a remote barrio
the furniture are carved
from molave trees
shining with shellac
and glistening
with opulence
the motif of this
house
the kitchen is huge
four times as wide
as my garage
accommodating only
my second hand car
and the garage
is one that can handle
a party for the night
of ten tables and
fifty chairs and
a hundred people
one wonders
why Ruben has to make
a mansion like this
sheer taste perhaps
or his money
simply searching for something
to buy and spend
looking for some
vents
did he remember
how as a child
the family was shamed
because visitors
from Bohol
in 1970 could not
be accommodated
and they all murmured
how poor they were?
it must be traumatic
for Ruben
as a child
and it must be some
trauma
that molded his dream
to build a mansion
like this?
(or am i just
jealous
of his ambition)
i need not ask some
more
his lips are sealed
he is dead
and he has no way
explaining
a sensitive matter as building
a mansion
while the rest still
thrives on
mediocre houses and
unfinished makeshifts
and no one lives
in this house anymore
perhaps some dreams
still live here
dreams unfulfilled
and once fulfilled
these dreams now
refuse to die
a mansion is still a house
and when no one lives there
need i say
that it is never a home
and after this party
tendered in the name of Ruben
we all go home
and then think for once
i must build a home
and for the meantime forget about a mansion
or just a house.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Other Houses
My house builds other houses,
Opening fires and closing the clothes;
Make it exist beyond the shadows,
Surprise us with its expectant earnings.
My mansion manufactures a person of health,
From health to journeys of fires.
The suffering causes more to exceed us,
Like the same puzzle recurring for the better.
My house warns our belongings,
It surprises us once in a while.
After the hill, is a mansion of love,
Hills are like the mountains of our journey.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mansion On The Hill
Theres a place out on the edge of town, sir,
Risin above the factories and the fields
Now, ever since I was a child, I can remember
That mansion on the hill
In the day you can see the children playing
On the road that leads to those gates of hardened steel
Steel gates that completely surround, sir,
The mansion on the hill
At night my daddyd take me and wed ride
Through the streets of a town so silent and still
Park on a back road along the highway side
Look up at that mansion on the hill
In the summer all the lights would shine
Thered be music playin, people laughin all the time
Me and my sister, wed hide out in the tall cornfields
Sit and listen to the mansion on the hill
Tonight down here in linden town
I watch the cars rushin by, home from the mill
Theres a beautiful full moon rising
Above the mansion on the hill
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mansion On The Hill
(bruce springsteen)
Theres a place out on the edge of town sir
Risin above the factories and fields
Now ever since I was a child I can remember
That mansion on the hill
In the day you can see the children playing
On a road that leads to those gates of hardened steel
Steel gates that completely surround sir
That mansion on the hill
At night my daddyd take me and wed ride
Through the streets of a town so silent and still
Park on a back road along the highway signs sir
Look up at the mansion on the hill
In the summer all the lights would shine
Thered be music playin people laughin all the time
Me and my brother wed lie down in the tall cornfields sir
Sit and listen to the mansion on the hill
Tonight down here in linden town
I watch the cars rushin by home from the mill
Theres a beautiful full moon rising
Above the mansion on the hill
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Mansion On The Hill
Hank williams
Tonight down here in the valley
Im lonesome and oh, how I feel
As I sit here alone in your cabin
I can see your mansion on the hill
Do you remember when we parted?
The story to me you revealed
You said you could live without love, dear
In your loveless mansion on the hill
Ive waited all through the years. love
To give you a heart true and real
Cos I know you are living in sorrow
In your loveless mansion on the hill
The light shines bright from your window
The trees stand so silent and still
I know youre alone with your pride, dear
In your loveless mansion on the hill
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Mansion On The Hill
Tonight down here in the valley
Im lonesome and o how I feel
As I sit here alone in my cabin
I can see your mansion on the hill
Do you recall when we parted
The story to me you revealed
You said you could live without loving
In your loveless mansion on the hill
Ive waited all through the years love
To give you a heart true and real
Cause I know youre living in sorrow
In your loveless mansion on the hill
The light shine bright from yer window
The trees stand so silent and still
I know youre alone with your pride dear
In your loveless mansion on the hill
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Successful Mind
You dress the mind with success,
It labours night and day, opening.
We close it due to some sort of activity,
Offering a bright future so wild.
The dress of the body is beautiful,
Inside we house our learned manner.
It is a mansion of repute, of utter pleasure,
For the people around us will their way.
The mind houses superhuman traits,
Which we use as much as we can.
The mind and body arouse a point,
That point is our home, the one mansion.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Pace The Beach
This house, this place I call a mansion,
Was rippled with disgust as the rains turned;
Cupboards vibrating, pots dismounting,
The earth was shattering in the hoses.
Quite close we ran into discomforts,
Astonishingly above the horizon the rain came.
It had shared a slight triumph so glaring,
Confirming character of a walled dispute.
My house is a mansion so early and polite,
To pace the beach is my command.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Building
"Build me a house," said the Master,
"But not on the shifting sand,
Mid the wreck and roar of tempests,
A house that will firmly stand.
"I will bring thee windows of agates,
And gates of carbuncles bright,
And thy fairest courts and portals
Shall be filled with love and light.
"Thou shalt build with fadeless rubies,
All fashioned around the throne,
A house that shall last forever,
With Christ as the cornerstone.
"It shall be a royal mansion,
A fair and beautiful thing,
It will be the presence-chamber
Of thy Saviour, Lord and King.
"Thy house shall he bound with pinions
To mansions of rest above,
But grace shall forge all the fetters
With the links and cords of love.
"Thou shalt he free in this mansion
From sorrow and pain of heart,
For the peace of God shall enter,
And never again depart."
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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Lilian Stewart
I was the daughter of Lambert Hutchins,
Born in a cottage near the grist-mill,
Reared in the mansion there on the hill,
With its spires, bay-windows, and roof of slate.
How proud my mother was of the mansion!
How proud of father's rise in the world!
And how my father loved and watched us,
And guarded our happiness.
But I believe the house was a curse,
For father's fortune was little beside it;
And when my husband found he had married
A girl who was really poor,
He taunted me with the spires,
And called the house a fraud on the world,
A treacherous lure to young men, raising hopes
Of a dowry not to be had;
And a man while selling his vote
Should get enough from the people's betrayal
To wall the whole of his family in.
He vexed my life till I went back home
And lived like an old maid till I died,
Keeping house for father.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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No mansion as mine
My mother, my, wife, my child-
‘My’ tag propelled me to build
Mansion for them one by one.
No mansion I built as mine
When my limbs had been fine.
20.06.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Postcard From The Volcano
Children picking up our bones
Will never know that these were once
As quick as foxes on the hill;
And that in autumn, when the grapes
Made sharp air sharper by their smell
These had a being, breathing frost;
And least will guess that with our bones
We left much more, left what still is
The look of things, left what we felt
At what we saw. The spring clouds blow
Above the shuttered mansion house,
Beyond our gate and the windy sky
Cries out a literate despair.
We knew for long the mansion's look
And what we said of it became
A part of what it is ... Children,
Still weaving budded aureoles,
Will speak our speech and never know,
Will say of the mansion that it seems
As if he that lived there left behind
A spirit storming in blank walls,
A dirty house in a gutted world,
A tatter of shadows peaked to white,
Smeared with the gold of the opulent sun.
poem by Wallace Stevens
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Melancholic....
I have my own dreams
i keep them in my house
and no one sees them
every night i look at all
these dreams of mine
my treasure, my gold
they do not glitter anymore
i have my own rusty dreams
and i keep them inside my house
there they all turn to powder
to dust, to nothing
one night i am tired of all these dreams
put them all inside a box
and throw them all to the sea
and then the sea has all my dreams
now i have my house without dreams
it is an empty house
proud with nothing but myself alone
i am the dream of this house
it's only dream
soon the house shall be gone
soon i shall be too gone
someone shall build another house
another dream......
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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Mansion
My husband
Sees those
Big mansion
Houses
And dreams
Of earning
Money
To buy
One of them.
I tell him,
The owners
Of those
Big mansion
Houses
Are so busy
Earning
Money,
They don't have
Time -
To live in them.
(Poem themed on Money)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I built this house just for you!
I built this house just for you
We built it together, but now its coming unglued.
I am your frame because I built you up
But you’re hammering me down, I have to watch out and duck.
Do you want this house and my frame work?
You are showing it and acting like a jerk.
Why listen to your friends because they are just jealous,
I am trying to have a house and your being rebellious.
You must want a new house or a big mansion,
But I am all you’ll need! Are you focused or maybe trancin?
I am all you need or maybe more,
Before me you were considered a whore.
I have your back, but my doesn’t seem good enough,
What more could you want, what other stuff?
I admire your goals and that’s a fact,
But the way you have been acting is totally whack!
I still love you and you know that’s true,
Because when I close my eyes all I see is you!
Please don’t hammer down our house,
On your own, your house would only be suited for a mouse.
So forgive me if this is a little harsh or if it hurts your feelings,
But the truth is the truth and its out and revealing.
So let’s work on our house and build it back up,
Since the truth is out, we will have good luck.
Together our house will be stronger, beautiful, and even a mess.
But if we are honest with one another, the relationship won’t be a guess.
Now it’s all up to you to lay the hammer down and be my shoulder,
But if you don’t stop messing with me, it certainly will be over.
poem by Melanie Weeks
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The House of Delights
In this house is a garden of delights,
Tomorrow we play on the grass for our appetites.
We eat and play and roam and die
In the grounds of the place that lie.
The mansion is expensive for some who withdraw
From their banks the heavier sum, says the Law.
The garden is a house and a home,
We revel and afterwards seek our comb.
Our hair leaves us grey,
The home is around the alleyway.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Mansion On The Hill
Well, I saw an old man walking in my place
And he looked at me, it could have been my face
Hes words were kind but hes eyes were wild
He said: I got load to love, but I want one more child.
Theres a mansion on the hill
Psychedelic music fills the air
Peace and love live there still
In that mansion on the hill.
Around the next bend, take the highway to the sun
Or the rocky road, it really dont matter which one
I was in hurry but that dont matter now
cause I have to get off that road of tears somehow.
Theres a mansion on the hill
Psychedelic music fills the air
Peace and love live there still
In that mansion on the hill.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rip Van Ruben
Rip van ruben
Youve been asleep for a hundred seconds
Now the whole world has changed
Theres no home on the range
For rip van ruben
Youve been asleep for a hundred minutes
Now youve woke and shes gone
All alone in a dark new dawn
Sits rip van ruben
Dont let it get you down
Hop on a tram and go up town
Watch a silent film
See the biplanes fly bye bye
Everything new and upside down
Pinching yourself through your dressing gown
Wont bring her back
But your bruise is real and black
Jump into bed and dream her back where she was
Dream youre frank l. richards and this is the great land of oz
When your alarm clock goes off
You will find that she has too!
Rip van ruben
Youve been asleep for a hundred seconds
Now your whole worlds turned round
And the house makes an empty sound for
Rip van ruben
Dont let it freak you out
Youll find another girl no doubt
And someday soon
Maybe man will reach the moon
Jump into bed and dream her back where she belongs
Dream youre fu manchu and shes a slave to your tongs
When all the past evaporates
You will find that she has too
Rip van ruben
Youve been asleep for a hundred seconds
Now youve woke and shes gone
Instant desserts just for one
Rip van ruben
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unwanted Guests
A mansion is built.
And unwanted guests,
Are reported to reside inside.
And there are those who claim,
This was not known.
Even though the unwanted guests,
Entertained, prepared the meals...
As well as took suggestions as to what to serve,
For choices of dessert.
And...
Tucked them all in bed at night!
To then leave,
On their own...
To wander freely around the mansion!
And yet,
It has been declared...
The guests who wandered freely around the mansion,
Were unwanted.
AND...
No one will admit,
They knew a mansion existed.
Nor have a clue who built it,
Or 'how' it got there.
I live on a fixed income.
And my every move is watched.
Even my approach to await a coming bus,
At a public bustop...
Is monitored as suspicious.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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