House poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best house poems ever written. Read all poems about house.
The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark
that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.
I turn around on the gravel
and go back to the house for a book,
something to read at the doctor’s office,
I dwell in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
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.
In the burned house I am eating breakfast.
You understand: there is no house, there is no breakfast,
yet here I am.
A House upon the Height—
That Wagon never reached—
Indoors the tang of a tiny oil lamp. Outdoors
The winking signal on the waste of sea.
Indoors the sound of the wind. Outdoors the wind.
Indoors the locked heart and the lost key.
I knew that a baby was hid in that house,
Though I saw no cradle and heard no cry;
But the husband was tip-toeing 'round like a mouse,
And the good wife was humming a soft lullaby;
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night
Was like the conscious being of the book.
While looking through an old picture album the other day (Yes! Picture albums still exist) nestled in the seams of one page…we found this old and weathered list.
As we opened it and began to read…the two of us were thrilled…that old list contained the items for the dream house we would build.
When we were younger and we'd dream…Debrah and I would agree on what size and shape and color…our perfect house would be.
It would be a bungalow with room for our family…and more…the kitchen would be big and modern…there'd be bedrooms on the second floor.
If somebody is therein
To keep the things
So the house is
Phat chance! Phish phophy! Bull Stool!
And Folks… Leave politics da phuuck…
out of this discussion! Not one human
life… is worth you, or any other mfer'
Epitaph for a Palestinian Child
by Michael R. Burch
I lived as best I could, and then I died.
The turtle carries his house on his back. He is both the house and the person of that house.
But actually, under the shell is a little room where the true turtle, wearing long underwear, sits at a little table. At one end of the room a series of levers sticks out of slots in the floor, like the controls of a steam shovel. It is with these that the turtle controls the legs of his house.
Most of the time the turtle sits under the sloping ceiling of his turtle room reading catalogues at the little table where a candle burns. He leans on one elbow, and then the other. He crosses one leg, and then the other. Finally he yawns and buries his head in his arms and sleeps.
If he feels a child picking up his house he quickly douses the candle and runs to the control levers and activates the legs of his house and tries to escape.
If he cannot escape he retracts the legs and withdraws the so-called head and waits. He knows that children are careless, and that there will come a time when he will be free to move his house to some secluded place, where he will relight his candle, take out his catalogues and read until at last he yawns. Then he'll bury his head in his arms and sleep....That is, until another child picks up his house....
FRED: THE MOVIE SCRIPT
Written by David A. Goodman
I remember this house
cos this house was home
I remember this house
cos this house was home
For every house that one see is the house of the angel for who will touch a heart with respect but when one look in the eyes of the angel for one will feel the touch of respect thus it's the sky that the angel call the house of the angel with respect for every house that one see is the house of the family that fill the air to touch a heart with happiness the more one feel the touch sun thus one feel the hand that will touch a heart and yet the house of the angel of respect is the house.
A beautiful day for the bird to sing a sweet song of respect but when there a heart that wish for respect for the family will touch the heart that wish for the touch of respect the more one wish the more one will see the family of the angel of respect for it's the family that fill the morning air with respect day or night for every heart that wish for respect shall feel respect min the air for it's the family that fill the air with respect but yet the house of the angel is the home of respect.
The house of the angel for it's there where the touch of respect stay for the family is the respect to touch a heart that wish for respect the more one feel the touch of the house of respect thus the more one will feel the sparkle that will touch a heart but for one who feel a warm smile thus it's the angel that touch a heart for every heart there a rose that bloom in full and yet the house of the angel is the home of respect.
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