This House This Home
in this house the music of the night
is the soft rain from the sky falling upon the grass
like tiptoeing mothers watching their young children
sleeping and kissing their foreheads
there is no burning fire here from wood
and there is no smoke from a cigarette
it is dark as usual but it is desirable
even darker as there are no stars tonight
i am not sad
i am at home with myself in this house
i hear the symphony of winds and whispers
from the leaves of trees and the chants of earthworms
it is cold and so i have closed all the windows and doors
& then i curl beneath my blanket of roses
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
When the Parents Refuse to Come Home
When the parents refuse to come home
The children sleep beneath the babysitter’s skirt.
She will eat you out of house and home.
When the parents refuse to come home
The children shall set the house on fire,
And the babysitter shall save the family pet
That is content to be hand fed at the breast.
This night the parents are outside the loop,
They are out for a night on the town to renew their bound without the incessant want of children who shall burn the house down for attention.
The babysitter is watching TV under the blaze of the burning house where the family pet snicks beneath the smoke colleted by the ceiling.
When the parents stay out all night the children are discontented with the babysitter who have no time for children, she rather babysat the TV.
The babysitter refuse to pay taxes on her earning, she have parked the children in their beds where they learn the art of conversation from the TV.
The parents are having fun while the children are safe in the dream shatter of the right brain telling midnight stories of the day’s doings and the babysitter has invited her boy friend over for the night and he will eat you out of house and home while in their dream the children are buring the house down.
When the parents dance the night away in the night club the children are dreaming of the violent of the babysitter who eat the last of the pot roast left over from dinner.
When the parents refuse to come home the babysitter is contemplating the meaning of death and dying in the burning house.
The babysitter will grow up to become a parent and she will hire a babysitter when she go out to dance the night away as her children burn the house down.
poem by David E. Patton
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Invitation
Come into my night;
the darkness is so cold
that sparrows flee
my winter trees,
so I have closed
my windows and my doors.
I horde my little warmth.
Crickets will not sing delight
and stars no longer glimmer
in winter’s dreary night.
O come,
O come, Emmanuel!
I am captive and dull.
I cannot see the flashing stars
that lurk beyond the cloud.
O come into my small house
and my meager fire share.
O come, and bring fierce angels
to cut away death’s empty snare!
poem by Steven Federle
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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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Vivaldi, concerto for flute
Children playing on a green playground
Mothers watching
Closely watching
The faces of children
Smiling
Cool air
Green leaves brown leaves yellow leaves
Soft wind
Leaves falling down to the slow soft wind
Children running
Chasing each other
They are playing
A mother feels the soft wind
Cool air
And sees the trickles of leaves
Blending green brown yellow
With sunshine as canvass
Nature and human figures of mothers and children
Blending
Amazing
What a beautiful painting has God
In quick short brushes
Effortlessly with perfect strokes did make
The frame is laughter of children.
I am taking the whole picture for home.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In This House
in this house
where you've been
what you've seen
were the windows
in this house
where you've been
what you've seen
were the doors
in this house
where you've sat
what you ate
was your food
in this house
where you've sat
what you ate
was the word
in this house
where you stood
what you could
something say
in this house
you could open
windows doors clapping wings
in this house
you could open
soul that heaven upward sings
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Dropping By Your House This Morning
i dropped by your house this very early morning
the windows are closed
but the door is half-open
and i could have given in to this little curiosity
that cats keep on their paws
and soft feet
or hands if you may
but i didn't. there is something in the houe
that says
you had a bad day and that night you did not have
a sound sleep
the roses are wilting and a flower pot falls on the ground
broken
the soil splashed like spilled water on the grass
there is no sound of the wind
from the storm last night
i just dropped by. I respect you. The door of the house
finally closed
i did not see the hands that closed it.
it maybe yours
or someone else's
the rug has spoken. You want to be alone.
to keep the faint light left
in that little room. the curtains fall. the lights
went off on that very early morning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Papa, Can You Hear Me
papa, can you hear me?
papa, can you see me?
papa, can you find me in the night?
papa, are you near me?
papa, can you hear me?
papa, can you help me not be frightened?
looking at the skies i see a million eyes
which ones are yours?
where are you now
that yesterday has waved goodbye
and closed it's doors
the night is so much darker
the wind is so much colder
the world is so much bigger
now that i am alone
papa, please forgive me
i know you understand me
papa, don't you know i had no chose?
oh, can you hear me prayin'?
anything i'm sayin'?
even though the night is filled with voices
i remember everything you ever
taught me
evey book i've ever read
can all the words,
all the music help me face what's ahead?
the trees are so much taller
i feel so much smaller
the moon is twice as lonely
and the stars are half as bright
daddy, how i love you
daddy, how i need you
daddy, how i miss you
kissing me goodnight
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Novameco A Journey
You are lost and you’re telling me you are lost
And you are so afraid about doing things in the usual ways
So you come out from your window
You do not use the door
Or the stairs because as you said you do not like to things
In the most usual ways
You are tired of the usual ways and they do not appeal to your
Sense of exciting
Journey
A journey to the unusual to the unknown desert to the undiscovered
Ways
When you go home tonight you shall take the path of stars
As you wonder
To this place
Where there are not stairs no doors no windows
Where there is no house
And you take the journey alone and there will be no directions
You will like it
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Vagabonder
it is a long trail
it rains so hard
you are wet and you come
upon a home of an
abandoned house to shelter
you finally
amid the tall trees
and wild grass
and darkness
the house has
a door which is closed
and a window
without light
you try taking the stairs
but the snake is there first
and it has become its
territory
it is tiring
the night is deep
the rain falls so hard
you are cold
but by then you have to
move some more
to find
time
whether it holds
a place for you
whether luck
is near
whether life still
cares.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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At Night With The Rain
i have closed the doors
and the windows
and let go the curtains
touching the floors
i close my eyes and listen
to the rain
i dream of stars
i miss the moon
the walls close on in me
beyond the glass windows
to the sea
i hear the sad calls of the
night
outside the trees are blown
the black cat stares at me
and then some tears
begin to fall
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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A Voice On The Wind
I
She walks with the wind on the windy height
When the rocks are loud and the waves are white,
And all night long she calls through the night,
'O my children, come home!'
Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered cloud,
Tosses around her like a shroud,
While over the deep her voice rings loud,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
II
Who is she who wanders alone,
When the wind drives sheer and the rain is blown?
Who walks all night and makes her moan,
'O my children, come home!'
Whose face is raised to the blinding gale;
Whose hair blows black and whose eyes are pale,
While over the world goes by her wail,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
III
She walks with the wind in the windy wood;
The dark rain drips from her hair and hood,
And her cry sobs by, like a ghost pursued,
'O my children, come home!'
Where the trees loom gaunt and the rocks stretch drear,
The owl and the fox crouch back with fear,
As wild through the wood her voice they hear,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
IV
Who is she who shudders by
When the boughs blow bare and the dead leaves fly?
Who walks all night with her wailing cry,
'O my children, come home!'
Who, strange of look, and wild of tongue,
With wan feet wounded and hands wild-wrung,
Sweeps on and on with her cry, far-flung,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
V
'Tis the Spirit of Autumn, no man sees,
The mother of Death and of Mysteries,
Who cries on the wind all night to these,
'O my children, come home!'
The Spirit of Autumn, pierced with pain,
Calling her children home again,
Death and Dreams, through ruin and rain,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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This House Is On Fire (live 1983)
(A. Young M. Young B. Johnson)
Yonder she walks
Yonder she walks
Hitting 103
A little tongue in cheek
Hot personality
She bring on the flames
And it's burning it's burning
My body's achin' tossin' and turnin'
This house is on fire
This house is on fire
This house is on fire
And the flame is gonna burn in
You
She got me runnin' for shelter
Needing quarantine
She got me red hot and wired
Call on emergency
She bring on the flames
And it's burning it's burning
My body's achin' tossin' and turnin'
This house is on fire
This house is on fire
This house is on fire
And the flame is gonna burn in
You
You got me burnin' and burnin'
You got me tossin' and turnin'
This house is on fire
House is on fire
This house is on fire
House is on fire
This house is on fire
This house is on fire
House is on fire
And the flame is gonna burn in
I'll bet it's gonna burn
I'm gonna burn
You
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This House Is On Fire (live 1983)
(A. Young M. Young B. Johnson)
Yonder she walks
Yonder she walks
Hitting 103
A little tongue in cheek
Hot personality
She bring on the flames
And it's burning it's burning
My body's achin' tossin' and turnin'
This house is on fire
This house is on fire
This house is on fire
And the flame is gonna burn in
You
She got me runnin' for shelter
Needing quarantine
She got me red hot and wired
Call on emergency
She bring on the flames
And it's burning it's burning
My body's achin' tossin' and turnin'
This house is on fire
This house is on fire
This house is on fire
And the flame is gonna burn in
You
You got me burnin' and burnin'
You got me tossin' and turnin'
This house is on fire
House is on fire
This house is on fire
House is on fire
This house is on fire
This house is on fire
House is on fire
And the flame is gonna burn in
I'll bet it's gonna burn
I'm gonna burn
You
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tonight Something Hot Is Going On
outside the
fence of the house
the dogs
the bitches are
doing it tonight
in heat
they bark at each others'
lust
who can fence
lust?
no one stops
a river
no one can keep
the rain
from falling
look at us
how pitiful have we become
because
of civilization
we are inside this house
with safe windows
with well locked doors
high fences
thick walls
how unhappy
can restraint ever be?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Into The Dark
There were stairs they were steep
I was falling falling deep
You were there you were small
There was screaming down the hall
I've been here sleeping all these years
There comes a time we all know
There's a place that we must go
Into the soul into the heart
Into the dark
There was fire there was death
There was lying on your breath
I turned away I would pretend
But the burning never ends
I've been here sleeping all these years
There was a wave over the house
There was fear choked in my mouth
You were there you left your mark
As I stumbled in the dark
song performed by by Melissa Etheridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Expectedly
houses are strong
and well insulated
in your
hinterland
but mine is on top
of the hill
kissed by the sun
it is open to the
air
they come and go
and come again
this is the house without
doors and stairs
a house deprived of
windows
and peeping holes
and cracks and
slits
this is the house of the
sun
the earth loves it
its body attached
to the grass
it has no pillars
but trees
no roof but clouds
no walls but spaces
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Fires
Men make them fires on the hearth
Each under his roof-tree,
And the Four Winds that rule the earth
They blow the smoke to me.
Across the high hills and the sea
And all the changeful skies,
The Four Winds blow the smoke to me
Till the tears are in my eyes.
Until the tears are in my eyes.
And my heart is wellnigh broke
For thinking on old memories
That gather in the smoke.
With every shift of every wind
The homesick memories come,
From every quarter of mankind
Where I have made me a home.
Four times a fire against the cold
And a roof against the rain --
Sorrow fourfold and joy fourfold
The Four Winds bring again!
How can I answer which is best
Of all the fires that burn?
I have been too often host or guest
At every fire in turn.
How can I turn from any fire,
On any man's hearthstone?
I know the wonder and desire
That went to build my own!
How can I doubt man's joy or woe
Where'er his house-fires shine.
Since all that man must undergo
Will visit me at mine?
Oh, you Four Winds that blow so strong
And know that his is true,
Stoop for a little and carry my song
To all the men I knew!
Where there are fires against the cold,
Or roofs against the rain --
With love fourfold and joy fourfold,
Take them my songs again!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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What looks in (windows and rain)
Rain upon windows…
Dark bedroom walls
Shimmering pastel mists
down shadowed halls
Windows of ebon black…
and cold Crystal light
Transparently solid through
Both dark and night
Seemingly liquid… in rivulets
Of slithers of rains
Silver sheet of mercury
Over fevered panes
Half seen reflections
enshroud the palpable dark
And imagined…(or real) things
Seem to quiver, dance and spark
Leaves strike... then flee
Tossed by cold fingers of wind
Tree branches rap upon the glass
as if wanting to come in
Pull covers o’er your head
Scrinch closed your eyes e’er so tight
Tis only windows they are…
So no real reason for fright
But… for what looks back in…
Through your windows tonight
poem by David Whalen
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Tonight Is For Dreamers
Written by russ ballard, 1983
Found on your move.
Here I am, there you are
Who would believe we could come this far
Were beneath this magic moon
The ocean plays its own sweet tune
The summer breeze it whispers low
It tells us something we both know
Tonight is for dreamers
Tonight someone up there has seen us
How we feel for each other
There could be no other
So he sent these words from above
Tonight is for falling in love
Oo, ah
(oo, la, la ... ) tonight theres magic in the air
Look around, its everywhere
Hear the sand birds bill and coo
Actin like they know it too
Hear the wind pass through the trees
Like its tellin everyone it sees
Tonight is for dreamers
Tonight someone up there has seen us
How we feel for each other (ah)
There could be no other
So he sent these words from above
Tonight is for falling in love
There cant have ever been such a night
I dont want it to end
With you in my arms girl I feel so high
Hell, I dont ever want to descend
Tonight is for dreamers
Tonight someone up there has seen us
How we feel for each other (ah)
There could be no other
So he sent these words from above
(I love you)
Tonight is for dreamers
Tonight someone up there has seen us
And I cant hold you enough (oo)
Tonight is for dreamers
Tonight someone up there has seen us
He sent these words from above
Tonight is for falling in love
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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