Frederick Kesner

Bronze Star - 2,048 Points (28 August / St. Thomas University Hospital)

Old Home, The - Poem by Frederick Kesner

It will never be like this again.
Just yesterday this house was alive;
Today it's empty, yet again.
This makes one think about tomorrow.

The old oaken door is the keeper,
Letting the joy in, keeping sorrow out;
Yet harbours both in a special way.
Within this house memories abound:

Who among them on that chair did sit?
What parties gathered this table round?
Where are the children, leaving bare
The nursery, the attic once filled with toys?

Draughts pulsing with life in the stairwell,
Swatches of talk in the empty rooms
Warm cozy kitchen - heart of the home;
Yes, never to be like this again.

Time will soon send us all a-packing
Then only ghosts shall wander the halls;
In an age where past yields to present,
When grand old walls give way to malls.


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Topic(s) of this poem: home, house

Form: Free Verse


Comments about Old Home, The by Frederick Kesner

  • (5/16/2006 1:48:00 PM)


    This is so beautiful, yet so sad, the really do have a beautiful gift of words
    Absolute 10 from me, I really felt this one

    Who among them on that chair did sit?
    What parties gathered this table round?
    Where are the children, leaving bare
    The nursery, the attic once filled with toys?
    Wow! !


    Love Duncan
    (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: house, today, sorrow, children, joy, home, time, heart, memory, child



Poem Submitted: Wednesday, December 1, 2004

Poem Edited: Tuesday, March 13, 2018


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