A House Breathes Through Its Bones Poem by Patti Masterman

A House Breathes Through Its Bones

Rating: 3.4

A house breathes through its bones,
Its summits sit like sentries;
Though rafters decompose-
It never denies entry.

Its ghosts lie in their beds,
Soft earth beneath their memory;
The shutters firmly closed-
The past seen only dimly.

Neil Young 06 November 2013

Its not often I find a poem of this quality here. Gentle flowing. The opening line is perfect. The subtle rhyme scheme is very effective. Metre and rhythm is spot on. I rate this a 10. Thank you.

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Jim Troy 10 August 2011

How hauntingly beautiful and brings that lonesome vision of a loved servant left behind.............. I enjoy the way this one is opened up to our far distant view (dimly) to see and enjoy. ....................................Jim Troy

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Deva De Silva 06 November 2012

I saw the old house and the sleepless ghosts. Images... good write.

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Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi 06 November 2012

the feelings that many people from other culture go through, when they walk on the banks of Thames River! Sometimes ancient is too scary!

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Smoky Hoss 06 November 2013

Neil said it perfectly. The gentle flow like air through lungs gives life, melancholy as needs must be, to these words. Beautiful writing... as always Patti.

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Rebecca Lyle 27 March 2017

I loved it too, it is a true write

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Georgios Venetopoulos 23 March 2017

I like it! The house could be a tomb. Their memories fly in the air above the soft earth that covers it. You compose quietly, transmitting your metaphors to those who will read you in the future. [ Its summits sit like sentries; ] So true... They do!

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Jack Peachum 22 January 2016

GOOD STUFF! Jack Peachum

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Pamela Sinicrope 20 November 2015

Your poem is evocative and the language tight. I love the the line, 'A house breathes through its bones'... Rings true for me. I live in an old historic home. i've written about it, though not posted anything as of yet. The line, 'Soft earth beneath their entry, ' makes me think that the clues of the people past can be found, if we dig, but the 'shutters firmly closed...? ' Sometimes I think I can FEEL the individuals who have lived here, I can certainly sense them, when I read old blue prints, find straight edge raids in the wall, peek through layers of peeling wallpaper. This was an excellent poem! Thanks.

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Aftab Alam Khursheed 06 November 2014

These lines are extra ordinary -The shutters firmly closed-The past seen only dimly so nice

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