House of Flesh
Crooked,
decrepit windows
see the world in shades of grime.
This lonely house sreaks
and groans in the rain.
Tattered
mother-eaten drapes
cover the hurt of abandonment.
People pass by
and talk cheerfully
of their own inhabited homes,
graced by the presence of a loving owner.
They are filled,
overflowing,
with friendly masses.
They are filled with people
who look in pity and distain
at this crumbling house on the corner.
These bodies pass by
with not a thought to this sad house,
all alone
begging for someone to pass it's threshhold,
to care.
Poor abandoned house on the corner,
quietly falling to pieces as the seasons pass.
No one wants you.
poem by Meggan McGuire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Astonishing Forest
Where the house filled with living
The house continuously giving
Where the house filled with nature
The house filled with adventure
Anything can survive
With the nature it provides
Where the house filled with grass
The house filled with hedges, bushes and plants
Canopy trees be it rain or shine
Will be there for you at any time
Where the green house filled with fresh air
Will shelter you in the heavy rain
O the house of beauty
O the house of sound
So much variety is yet to be found
poem by Sehar Zaman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A House called Lonely (A Trilogy in three parts)
There is a street in every town that owns a house
called lonely. Then when your just passing by you might
just say, 'if only.
If only could mean a life time of thoughts but it does'nt cure
a lonely house and all its faults.
Boarded up windows and tiles gone from the roof, graffiti
painted by a rebelious youth.
Such a lonely house and an oh such a tired one,
one that has lost all it's fun.
Stairs and rafters all gone to pot all that is left
is wood worm and dry rot.
No children playing in the garden, it's just a house condemend
by the council without no pardon. Poor lonely house someones
forgotton dream, now describing lifes social scene.
This lonely house stands in the way because their building
a By Pass or a new motorway.
The house called lonely could be any where, in the town, the
country or city square.
Even in your street there's a house called lonely just waiting
for you to say 'if only'
poem by Sylvia Spencer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
People's Indifference
people who pass
by the house
always stop a while
taking time
to look at the window
which is closed
the whole day
the stairs still have
dry leaves
at the back of the house
a boy is screaming
the fence is closed
and a white dog is yelping
wanting to go inside
as people pass by the house
stop a while take time to
have a glimpse
and then leave
doing nothing about it
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Yellow House on Tucker Avenue
Saturday mornings brought promises,
of starting over,
beginning anew.
Trying to make the week over
and re-invent my life,
a life that I wanted with you.
The house sat high against a slope,
far enough away from the road to make it seem inaccessible
Painted a cheerful yellow, the colour
of happiness
And there in the yellow house on Tucker Avenue
I imagined my life with you.
Loving you in rooms filled
with laughter,
days and nights turning into years
In a house painted the colour of sunshine
and happy children that looked like you,
There in that yellow house on Tucker Avenue
I created a life spent with you.
The weekends gave way to reality
And the house sits deserted still
Steadily fading into memory, alone against the sturdy hill.
Abandoned to the fantasy and the careless dreams that I knew,
When I pass by the house that a love built
That yellow house on Tucker Avenue
poem by Karen Touzalin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
She Lives Alone
She lives alone in a house on a hill.
Sitting in her favourite chair
alone by the window she'd sit and stare
waiting for someone to pass her by
anyone to notice the tears in her eye
She lives alone in a house on the river
Standing at the open front door
alone on the porch, she waits for an hour or more
waiting for someone to pass her by
anyone to notice the tears in her eye
She lives alone in a house in a wood
Lying in her cold single bed
still and alone, for she is dead
she was waiting for someone to pass her by
anyone to be there and say goodbye
poem by Nicola Burkett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The House
For many years, the house
stood empty and forlorn.
The windows had been boarded
preventing the sunlight coming in.
No welcoming mat lay by the door;
laughter was a thing of the past
as spiders spun their webs
within the gloomy silence.
The house stood empty
abandoned by most living things
and there were those who said
spooky goings on went on
after night fell in there.
No one could prove it
because no one would stay there.
Only the fool hardy
would ever enter after dark.
The paintwork pealed
and the front door creaked
if someone dared to open it.
They say the house is haunted,
but no one knew
by what or who.
The house began to crumble
as each season came to pass.
The glory of its birth
lay somewhere in the past
and now the crumbling walls
would never reveal
any of the secrets that it knew.
Then a fire started
by a hand unseen
and the house finally died
within its own funeral pyre
15 March 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Spy
The spy in the house thought he'd seen
A boy playing football in the house with me
The spy in the house thought he'd seen
A ghost scaring people out of the window with me
The spy in the garden thought he'd seen
A trampoline eating people including me
The spy in the garden thought he'd seen
Apples falling into mouths to be eaten
poem by Matthew Smi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Please Don't Pass Me By (A Disgrace)
I was walking in New York City and I brushed up against the man in front of
me. I felt a cardboard placard on his back. And when we passed a streetlight,
I could read it, it said "Please don't pass me by - I am blind, but you can
see - I've been blinded totally - Please don't pass me by." I was walking
along 7th Avenue, when I came to 14th Street I saw on the corner curious
mutilations of the human form; it was a school for handicapped people. And
there were cripples, and people in wheelchairs and crutches and it was snowing,
and I got this sense that the whole city was singing this:
Oh please don't pass me by,
oh please don't pass me by,
for I am blind, but you can see,
yes, I've been blinded totally,
oh please don't pass me by.
And you know as I was walking I thought it was them who were singing it, I
thought it was they who were singing it, I thought it was the other who was
singing it, I thought it was someone else. But as I moved along I knew it was
me, and that I was singing it to myself. It went:
Please don't pass me by,
oh please don't pass me by,
for I am blind, but you can see,
well, I've been blinded totally,
oh please don't pass me by.
Oh please don't pass me by.
Now I know that you're sitting there deep in your velvet seats and you're
thinking "Uh, he's up there saying something that he thinks about, but I'll
never have to sing that song." But I promise you friends, that you're going
to be singing this song: it may not be tonight, it may not be tomorrow, but
one day you'll be on your knees and I want you to know the words when the
time comes. Because you're going to have to sing it to yourself, or to
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Tornados
Tornados,
You rip thourgh house's and homes.
Destroy house as you spin along.
Kill so many of those inesent people, when they think they will be fine then you rip and suck up there shrine.
Leave house's and mess all over the place.
As on April the third 1956 over 400 tornado suck up the homes and left famlies and freinds with broken hearts and left hospitals filled with sad people with bad enjuries that left the, poor nurse's and Doctors work till daylight with out any power fo over 24 hours that ment that some people would die overs in criddicle conditions so remeber April the first is a very, sad day
poem by Catherine smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The House with Nobody in It
Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.
I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.
This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,
And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.
If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.
I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.
Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,
Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.
But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known.
But a house that has done what a house should do,
a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.
So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,
For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.
poem by Joyce Kilmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stranger In The House
We dont talk much
We dont make love like we used to
And I stay guarded
Ive got walls and triggers
I never thought I had
And so do you
But this is love
And thats the way we seem content to play it
I touch your clothes when youre gone
I let your scent wash over me
You cry at night and you wish just like a child
That we were how we used to be
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
And she looks like somebody from a lifetime ago
I stonewall you, you stonewall me
But we both know that
Hiding deep inside us
Lives the love that we try hard to lose
And never will
But this is war
And thats the way we seem content to fight it
I get so angry and confused cause
I want out but I want you
You cant decide between moving out or moving in
You dont know what to do
With a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
And she looks like you
And he looks like me
Is this the same girl that, I fought so hard to win
And now I fight to lose her
Now I feel that its just like skin to skin
And nerve to nerve
Strung out like wire
Is that the way we are content to live
We face off in anger
In rooms once filled with love
Looking for a chink in the armour
Where we can stab the blade
What are we thinking of
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
And she looks like somebody from a lifetime ago
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
1,2,3,4.
1,2,3,4
Needy men sprawled on the floor.
Many pass with merciless stares
While they wait patiently for somebody to care.
No job, no house, no bed to sleep
We leave these men without basic needs.
Assuming that they spend it on booze and drugs
We flick them away like pesky bugs.
No job, no house, no bed to sleep
And all they want is some money to eat.
No job, no house, no bed to sleep
Is this how we treat God’s sheep?
No job, no house, no bed to sleep
Won’t somebody care to see?
That 1,2,3,4
Needy men, need support.
poem by Vanessa Hibberd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
And this administration and this House leadership have said, quote-unquote, they will stop at nothing to pass this health care bill. And now they've gotten rid of me and it will pass. You connect the dots.
quote by Eric Massa
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Please Don't Pass Me By
I was walking in new york city and i brushed up against the man in front of me. i felt a cardboard placard on his back. and when we passed a streetlight, i could read it, it said "please do
Ass me by - i am blind, but you can see -i've been blinded totally - please don't pass me by." i was walking along 7th avenue, when i came to 14th street i saw on the corner curious mutilat
Of the human form; it was a school for handicapped people. and there were cripples, and people in wheelchairs and crutches and it was snowing, and i got this sense that the whole city was singin
S:
Oh please don't pass me by,
Oh please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh please don't pass me by.
And you know as i was walking i thought it was them who were singing it, i thought it was they who were singing it, i thought it was the other who was singing it, i thought it was someone else.
S i moved along i knew it was me, and that i was singing it to myself. it went:
Please don't pass me by,
Oh please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Well, i've been blinded totally,
Oh please don't pass me by.
Oh please don't pass me by.
Now i know that you're sitting there deep in your velvet seats and you're thinking "uh, he's up there saying something that he thinks about, but i'll never have to sing that song." but
Omise you friends, that you're going to be singing this song: it may not be tonight, it may not be tomorrow, but one day you'll be on your knees and i want you to know the words when the time co
Because you're going to have to sing it to yourself, or to another, or to your brother. you're going to have to learn to sing this song, it goes:
Please don't pass me by,
Ah you don't have to sing this .. not for you.
Please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh please don't pass me by.
Well i sing this for the jews and the gypsies and the smoke that they made. and i sing this for the children of england, their faces so grave. and i sing this for a saviour with no one to save.
Won't you be naked for me? hey, won't you be naked for me? it goes:
Please don't pass me by,
Oh please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh now, please don't pass me by.
Now there's nothing that i tell you that will help you connect the blood tortured night with the day that comes next. but i want it to hurt you, i want it to end. oh, won't you be naked for me?
W:
Please don't pass me by,
Oh please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh now, please don't pass me by.
Well i sing this song for you blonde beasts, i sing this song for you venuses upon your shells on the foam of the sea. and i sing this for the freaks and the cripples, and the hunchback, and the
Ed, and the burning, and the maimed, and the broken, and the torn, and all of those that you talk about at the coffee tables, at the meetings, and the demonstrations, on the streets, in your mus
N my songs. i mean the real ones that are burning, i mean the real ones that are burning
I say, please don't pass me by,
Oh now, please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Ah now, i've been blinded totally,
Oh no, please don't pass me by.
I know that you still think that its me. i know that you think that there's somebody else. i know that these words aren't yours. but i tell you friends that one day
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down on your knees,
You're going to get down ...
Oh, please don't pass me by,
Oh, please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, yeah but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh, please don't pass me by.
Well you know i have my songs and i have my poems. i have my book and i have the army, and sometimes i have your applause. i make some money, but you know what my friends, i'm still out there on
Corner. i'm with the freaks, i'm with the hunted, i'm with the maimed, yes i'm with the torn, i'm with the down, i'm with the poor. come on now ...
Ah, please don't pass me by,
Well i've got to go now friends,
But, please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, yeah but you can see,
Oh, i've been blinded, i've been blinded totally,
Oh now, please don't pass me by.
Now i want to take away my dignity, yes take my dignity. my friends, take my dignity, take my form, take my style, take my honour, take my courage, take my time, take my time, .. time .. 'cause
Now i'm with you singing this song. and i wish you would, i wish you would, i wish you would go home with someone else. wish you'd go home with someone else. i wish you'd go home with someone el
On't be the person that you came with. oh, don't be the person that you came with, oh don't be the person that you came with. ah, i'm not going to be. i can't stand him. i can't stand who i am.
S why i've got to get down on my knees. because i can't make it by myself. i'm not by myself anymore because the man i was before he was a tyrant, he was a slave, he was in chains, he was broken
Then he sang:
Oh, please don't pass me by,
Oh, please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, yes i am blind, oh but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh, please don't pass me by.
Well i hope i see you out there on the corner. yeah i hope as i go by that i hear you whisper with the breeze. because i'm going to leave you now, i'm going to find me someone new. find someone
And please don't pass me by.
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
On The Road To Gethsemane
on the road to Gethsemane...
i pass burned out buildings,
farm lands scorched by the bombing.
i pass the skeleton bodies
of young children who starved.
i pass the unmarked graves,
of young boys sent to war.
i pass the flag of the liars,
and the tents of mourning.
i pass vacant factories,
and houses left empty.
i pass through cocaine streets,
where all flesh is for sale.
i pass the unemployed masses,
and their desperate eyes.
i pass the baby born unwanted,
and the prison's stink.
i pass empty churches,
and hollow ringing bells.
i pass families broken,
and peoples enslaved.
i pass the moral guns of prejudice,
rank with immorality!
i pass the crippled, the sick,
and those desperately alone...
these tears of blood
are human tears,
this cross we all bear!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Here In My House
Here in my house.
My dreams are filled in the here and now.
Here in my house.
Things seem so estranged.
Life's closer to being changed.
Where I live there is a numbness.
There's an emptiness waiting to be undone.
Here in my house.
I need peace and solitude.
I want the happy interlude.
Where's the happiness?
Why the sappiness?
Here in my house.
I want a lover to feed me.
Come and take me to bed.
Save my room for my heart to be filled.
Here in my house.
Outside, life torments and plays with the wind.
You get caught up in the bum rush.
When love comes, it hurts too much.
You don't want to let go.
Here in my house.
Let's sweep away our cares.
Find a place to get our anger out.
Constructively, with every whimp of passion.
Love rules out your heart.
That what love does.
Here in my house.
You want it too much.
Here in my house.
poem by Raven Brent
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song IV: Draw Near and Behold Me
Love is enough: draw near and behold me
Ye who pass by the way to your rest and your laughter,
And are full of the hope of the dawn coming after;
For the strong of the world have bought me and sold me
And my house is all wasted from threshold to rafter.
--Pass by me, and hearken, and think of me not!
Cry out and come near; for my ears may not hearken,
And my eyes are grown dim as the eyes of the dying.
Is this the grey rack o'er the sun's face a-flying?
Or is it your faces his brightness that darken?
Comes a wind from the sea, or is it your sighing?
--Pass by me and hearken, and pity me not!
Ye know not how void is your hope and your living:
Depart with your helping lest yet ye undo me!
Ye know not that at nightfall she draweth near to me,
There is soft speech between us and words of forgiving
Till in dead of the midnight her kisses thrill through me.
--Pass by me and harken, and waken me not!
Wherewith will ye buy it, ye rich who behold me?
Draw out from your coffers your rest and your laughter,
And the fair gilded hope of the dawn coming after!
Nay this I sell not,--though ye bought me and sold me,--
For your house stored with such things from threshold to rafter.
--Pass by me, I hearken, and think of you not!
poem by William Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!