Top 100 Poems About: HOUSE

In this page, poems on / about “house” are listed.
  • 1.
    The Afternoon Sun

    This room, how well I know it.
    Now they're renting it, and the one next to it,
    as offices. The whole house has become
    an office building for agents, businessmen, companies.
    This room, how familiar it is. read more »

    Constantine P. Cavafy
  • 2.
    Ode To Ironing

    Poetry is white:
    it comes from water swathed in drops,
    it wrinkles and gathers,
    this planet's skin has to spread out, read more »

    Pablo Neruda
  • 3.
    The House

    Sometimes, on waking, she would close her eyes
    For a last look at that white house she knew
    In sleep alone, and held no title to,
    And had not entered yet, for all her sighs. read more »

    Richard Wilbur
  • 4.
    When You Go Away

    When you go away the wind clicks around to the north
    The painters work all day but at sundown the paint falls
    Showing the black walls
    The clock goes back to striking the same hour read more »

    William Stanley Merwin
  • 5.
    Fishing On The Susquehanna In July

    I have never been fishing on the Susquehanna
    or on any river for that matter
    to be perfectly honest. read more »

    Billy Collins
  • 6.
    Out Of The Old House, Nancy

    Out of the old house, Nancy--moved up into the new;
    All the hurry and worry is just as good as through. read more »

    Will McKendree Carleton
  • 7.
    In The Home Stretch

    SHE stood against the kitchen sink, and looked
    Over the sink out through a dusty window
    At weeds the water from the sink made tall. read more »

    Robert Frost
  • 8.
    In Touch With A Smoothing Iron

    Yellow with water stains,
    wine, carpet-beetle droppings,
    sweat in, cried in, just plain tired—
    I have taken an old dress, read more »

    Sandra Alcosser
  • 9.
    The Guest House

    This being human is a guest house.
    Every morning a new arrival. read more »

    Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
  • 10.
    Taking In Wash

    Papa called her Pearl when he came home
    drunk, swaying as if the wind touched
    only him. Towards winter his skin paled,
    buckeye to ginger root, cold drawing read more »

    Rita Dove
  • 11.
    On The Disadvantages Of Central Heating

    cold nights on the farm, a sock-shod
    stove-warmed flatiron slid under
    the covers, mornings a damascene-
    sealed bizarrerie of fernwork read more »

    Amy Clampitt
  • 12.
    Home, Sweet Home

    Backward across the lapse of years,
    With its ebbing tide of smiles and tears,
    Memory turns her wistful gaze
    And sighs for the pleasures of by-gone days, read more »

    Martha Lavinia Hoffman
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