The house of hope
It’s getting fog over the our thoughts
shiver of dream whispers me secretly
the light spreads gingerly on branches
bunch of wings dashes in the air.
Circle blue colours in the sky
float through clouds, be lost in the distances
it’s the house of hope that calls tenderly
with large mantle, with wonderful face.
Return to the house from the distances
hope assembles in the house with fir trees
love rises through the chimney of smoke,
undulates courteously in waves.
poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea
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Related quotes
The house from the mountain
Foot of region has grown up by the house
it’s the mountain that watches with strength the house
a summit with fir trees waits for dreaminess
from the happy house penetrates light.
Shiver of springs flows near the house
secret wave guides me to the door
that opens silently to my mirthful steps
the cowered hope stretches sleepily in bed.
Numbed in the morning second
I get drowned in drops of light
a high rumble, that increases lonely
gathers me in its breast, as the world that lies.
poem by Valentin Gabriel Cristea
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Sentimental Love
Distances awake our sentiment
Distances always make us tear
Distances always make us fear
Distances take away the ones who are dear
Distances make us learn that people are dare to care
Distances make us understand the value of having lover ones beside
When they are gone away
When already they are not there
Distances are the remainders of love sentiments
They remind us how we do care
Sometimes unaware we neglect those we care
Those who are precious more then our eyes
But somehow the hardships of our lives
Make us neglect people we love
But when they're gone the longing inside us begin to cry.
Distances separate our bodies yet they bring our souls together
They make us understand the value of our real ones.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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In this house of pain
In this house of pain
We’re nothing but slaves
Giving into such desires
Will it bring us any pleasure?
Weeping for a lover lost
She’ll cast her own spell
Deprived by all
Depleting the life of everyone that has betrayed her
Hidden in the shadows is where she will feel alive
In this house
Is nothing but sinners?
In this house
Is nothing but broken promises?
In this house
Is where you left me for dead?
Walking through the fogged trees
Blind to all
The songs of old
Are here for the comfort of all.
Beneath the garden of secrets
Hides a lonely heart
Calling to her lover
From which she had to part.
I am alone again.
Alone with my thoughts
That I am left to ponder upon
I am alone again.
This sadness is overwhelming
And all I can do is give in
Does my heart still beat the same?
Or does it die along with you
These thoughts seem to keep me sane
Yet I’m still waiting for more
These memories seem to play a game
And in the end
I’m here to give in
In this house
Is nothing but heartache?
In this house
Is nothing but tears?
In this house
Is where you left me broken?
The feelings seem to fade
The laughter was lost long ago
But I would give everything up
Just to have it all back
In this house
Was when I first fell in love with you?
In this house is were I gave my heart to you
In this house was where i was lost to you.
This will be our doing
This will be our destruction
Swept up in such blissful dreams
Scarcely unaware
This is the house
Were we will rot forever?
poem by Teigan Klippel
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Every House
Every house has a sun and moon,
And a little porcelain cup,
And a little silver spoon;
Every house has laughter and pain,
And feels the kiss of a needed rain.
Every house has a pet or two,
A cat in the tree,
A dove that coo;
Every house has a little mouse,
Lives in a hole he never comes out.
Every house has a window or two,
And some grass and trees,
And a sky that's blue;
Every house has a child that dreams,
As he plucks at raw reality's seams.
poem by Patti Masterman
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A Waltz Of Blue Smiles
Please read it on a waltz rhythm: One! two, three...
She's losing her house
She's losing her house
And what what what what
She does?
A poem she writes
Paints both of her eyes
And feet in dark blue
then she cries:
I'm loosing my house
I'm loosing my house
There's nothing to do
Oh mine!
I'm loosing my house
I'm loosing my house
Blue eyes and blue feet
Oh, sweet!
Why are you so sweet
Why are you so sweet
Blue eyes blue face
and blue feet?
Her handkerchief fly
Slow searching the sky
blue rivers of tears
got dry.
On a smile smiley
cheek
colours pass through
With tears and fears
Of blue.
She's losing her house
That's sad very sad
But we know she'll survive
And smile.
Blue cute sign became
In a book of one poem
blue fears, blue tears in
origami folded again.. Insane? ! ..
poem by Elena Sandu
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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 house she refers to
She first told me of this house when I was a child
She wrote it in her documents and filed
A house so wild
Where the people are very cold
A house like a wrestling hold
Everyone scrambling for gold
There are murmurs and calls for hate
Which spreads amongst the offspring they procreate
To go and lie in wait
Until they receive orders to fire
At anyone who aims higher
So that they get what they require
She documents a house of takers
Wanting to acquire acres
Which they are not the makers
She documents a house of doom
Where deception is a costume
And aversion is spread from a control room
She documents a house of pain
Where there is nothing to gain
And says to me again and again
Beware and tread with care
For there are fumes of hate in the air
This she makes me aware
She tells me of this house each day
So I would not be lead astray
What then can I say
Before the bee stings
I would pray for certain things
One is for God to carry me on a pair of wings
To fly me on a fast pace
To a new place
Where He would put a smile on my face
A place of joy and peace
poem by Mark Nyamekye Boadi
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Song: The House of Cards
Come look at the house,
the wonderful house,
and admire it's lavish facades.
The hearth's as transparent,
as the heart of young Faust,
in the beautiful house of cards.
And on the balcony suite, where all powers meet;
as made men they're known as goodfellas.
See the play of elites, who admit no defeats,
but display their true corporate colours.
Come look at the house,
the wonderful house,
lest like glass it shatters to shards.
When you hold up a mirror,
they scatter like grouse,
in the beautiful house of cards.
Like fat cats in heat, or on hunting retreat,
at ranches, estates, gated villas.
All pall-bearers beat or quail at their feet,
as befits these natural born killers.
Come look at the house,
the wonderful house,
protected by cameras and guards.
No-one 'scapes notice,
not even a mouse,
in the beautiful house of cards.
And on the mezzanine floor, they scrabble and squall,
to preen their fine hubris, unscissored.
And in congress they roar, they babble and bawl,
their small-minded rubrics like wizards.
Come look at the house,
the wonderful house,
the home of the brazen canards.
The cowboy and spouse,
in faux denim strauss,
in the beautiful house of cards.
Like insects they swarm, as a cold war gets warm,
or pick at the dead flesh like buzzards.
As the press runs to form, in the frat house and dorm,
and hazes the public as dullards.
Come look at the house,
the wonderful house,
once praised by the poets and bards.
What pest not oppressed
will soon be deloused,
in the beautiful house of cards.
While the huge hulking mass, of opinion is crass;
as it sits on it's ass to prove,
that the lumpen foundation of once a great nation,
like bedrock is slow to move.
Come look at the house,
the wonderful house,
for the debris is minimally charred.
The walls may be burning,
but soon will be doused,
in the beautiful house of cards.
Come look at the house,
the wonderful house,
while the world still gives it's regards.
A dream once espoused,
is now lost, and anonymous,
in the beautiful house of cards.
poem by David SmithWhite
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Thank You For The Distance
i once told you
about the strong house
its pillars
are having distances
to support
the weight of the
roof and the
beams
like us now
our distance shall support
the weight
of dispositions
this house
this acquaintance shall
shelter
what memories we
have kept
the pillars are stable now
the house is not shaky
we leave it that way
we take chances somewhere
under the stars
outside the door
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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House Of Jazz
Humdinger
Bell ringer
Got a nasty stinger
To slow you down
Mud slinger
Gold digger
Who point the finger
And do you down
Kickin' and a fightin' on a TV show
Lightin' blindin' in the middle of the road
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Ball stripper
Big tipper
Got a slap 'n' tickler
To make you growl
Spitin' and bitin' on a TV show
Tightenin' frightenin' givin' out a load
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin' in
Come on in
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
The house of jazz
song performed by by AC/DC from Stiff Upper Lip
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House Of Jazz
(young - young)
Humdinger
Bell ringer
Got a nasty stinger
To slow you down
Mud slinger
Gold digger
Who point the finger
And do you down
Kickin and a fightin on a tv show
Lightin blindin in the middle of the road
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz, yes
Ball stripper
Big tipper
Got a slap n tickler
To make you growl
A spitin and bitin on a tv show
Tightenin frightenin givin out a load
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin in
Come on in
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
The house of jazz
2000, j. albert & son, pty.
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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Cauldron with no Steam
They say hope is good
- hope is the house
in which faith dwells,
faith that swears by god.
I say desire is the house
from of which all seeds
called hope,
in mortal clusters sprout.
If desires are dead maggots
hopes the bad eggs,
faith is an empty cauldron
from where no steam rises.
Saranyan BV © October 2011
poem by Saranyan Bee
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My House of Human Skin
Look at me now, no uncouth wife
No mocking kids, no drab sex life
It all seems so immaterial in
My House of Human Skin
The waves of doubt that lapped my shores
Were quashed among the slavish whores
That visited my halls within
My House of Human Skin
I now have cold philosophy
That always comes easy to me
My thoughts will move forever in
My House of Human Skin
I am not God, I am not grace
Though I may have a normal face
I gave up being your kin within
My House of Human Skin
Emotionless, I walk these halls
Don't feel the need to talk no more
I cannot feel at all within
My House of Human Skin
One night some blacked-out faceless men
Took me away, I fought, I rent
But blood and bone were not within
My House of Human Skin
Now I stare at mattressed walls
I can no longer walk the halls
Yet my mind soars on mental wings
Cannot be stopped by trivial things
I've never been confined within
My House of Human Skin
poem by Matt Pocock
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When I Am 65
When I am 65
Every day will be a blessing from God
When I am 65
I hope that I will still be able to see with my eyes
When I am 65
I hope that I will be able to hear well with my ears
When I am 65
I hope that I will still be able to talk
When I am 65
I hope that I will be able to walk long distances
When I am 65
I hope that I will still be able to look after myself
When I am 65
I hope there will be somebody that will take care of me
When I am 65
I will be retired
When I am 65
I hope that I will not be isolated and lonely
And I hope that friends will be around for me
When I am 65
I hope to be able to see my nephew more
And I hope that he will come here to see me
When I am 65
I will have gray hair
And I will look more handsome
When I am 65
I won’t be able to do nothing about aging
I will age with time
When I am 65
I will receive my little pension
When I am 65
I will be a senior citizen
When I am 65
I hope that I will still have my brilliant mind working
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Miniature Woman
The Blue-Eyed Giant, the Miniature Woman
and the Honeysuckle
He was a blue-eyed giant,
He loved a miniature woman.
The woman's dream was of a miniature house
with a garden where honeysuckle grows
in a riot of colours
that sort of house.
The giant loved like a giant,
and his hands were used to such big things
that the giant could not
make the building,
could not knock on the door
of the garden where the honeysuckle grows
in a riot of colours
at that house.
He was a blue-eyed giant,
he loved a miniature woman,
a mini miniature woman.
The woman was hungry for comfort
and tired of the giant's long strides.
And bye bye off she went to the embraces of a rich dwarf with a garden where the honeysuckle grows
in a riot of colours
that sort of house.
Now the blue-eyed giant realizes,
a giant isn't even a graveyard for love:
in the garden where the honeysuckle grows
in a riot of colours
that sort of house...
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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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
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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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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
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My Dream Home (Amityville Horror House)
Some of you peoples,
will think I'm crazy,
maybe even psycho.
Because, The Amityville Horror House,
is my dream home.
I plan to buy it one day,
so think what you wanna think about me,
I don't care.
I love that home,
it's beautiful.
It's my dream house,
so one day I hope to have,
that house.
The Amityville Horror House.
If that makes me crazy,
or makes me psycho.
Then I guess I am.
poem by Ninja Soul
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