Login
|
Join PoetrySoup
Home
Submit Poems
Login
Sign Up
Member Home
My Poems
My Quotes
My Profile & Settings
My Inboxes
My Outboxes
Soup Mail
Contest Results/Status
Contests
Poems
Poets
Famous Poems
Famous Poets
Dictionary
Types of Poems
Videos
Resources
Syllable Counter
Articles
Forum
Blogs
Poem of the Day
New Poems
Anthology
Grammar Check
Greeting Card Maker
Classifieds
Quotes
Short Stories
Member Area
Member Home
My Profile and Settings
My Poems
My Quotes
My Short Stories
My Articles
My Comments Inboxes
My Comments Outboxes
Soup Mail
Poetry Contests
Contest Results/Status
Followers
Poems of Poets I Follow
Friend Builder
Soup Social
Poetry Forum
New/Upcoming Features
The Wall
Soup Facebook Page
Who is Online
Link to Us
Member Poems
Poems - Top 100 New
Poems - Top 100 All-Time
Poems - Best
Poems - by Topic
Poems - New (All)
Poems - New (PM)
Poems - New by Poet
Poems - Random
Poems - Read
Poems - Unread
Member Poets
Poets - Best New
Poets - New
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems Recent
Poets - Top 100 Community
Poets - Top 100 Contest
Famous Poems
Famous Poems - African American
Famous Poems - Best
Famous Poems - Classical
Famous Poems - English
Famous Poems - Haiku
Famous Poems - Love
Famous Poems - Short
Famous Poems - Top 100
Famous Poets
Famous Poets - Living
Famous Poets - Most Popular
Famous Poets - Top 100
Famous Poets - Best
Famous Poets - Women
Famous Poets - African American
Famous Poets - Beat
Famous Poets - Cinquain
Famous Poets - Classical
Famous Poets - English
Famous Poets - Haiku
Famous Poets - Hindi
Famous Poets - Jewish
Famous Poets - Love
Famous Poets - Metaphysical
Famous Poets - Modern
Famous Poets - Punjabi
Famous Poets - Romantic
Famous Poets - Spanish
Famous Poets - Suicidal
Famous Poets - Urdu
Famous Poets - War
Poetry Resources
Anagrams
Bible
Book Store
Character Counter
Cliché Finder
Poetry Clichés
Common Words
Copyright Information
Grammar
Grammar Checker
Homonym
Homophones
How to Write a Poem
Lyrics
Love Poem Generator
New Poetic Forms
Plagiarism Checker
Poetics
Poetry Art
Publishing
Random Word Generator
Spell Checker
Store
What is Good Poetry?
Word Counter
Email Poem
Your IP Address: 216.73.216.246
Your Email Address:
Required
Email Address Not Valid.
To Email Address:
Email Address Not Valid.
Required
Subject
Required
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
I stand inside a ballroom that stretches long before me, it is a sitting room right now, formal chairs and setees, tall windows stretch ceiling to floor, twice as tall as a man, with velvet drapes sent from Europe to make it all so grand, floral tile across the floor in patterns intricate, gas chandeliers of crystal cut, the light dances and flits, later tonight the chairs will go and a quartet with play, men with starched collars will arrive to dance the night away with women in full hoop dresses, to lively strings they twirl, young men will gaze at debutants, fresh-faced upon the world. I sit inside a dinning room, tables of finest wood, polished silver besides my plate, nothing less would be good, the waiters in their coat and tails bring me coffee or wine, and more courses than I can count, at just the proper time, while I speak with these mustached men just arrived from New York, then marvel at the savory rue they lay upon the pork, the smell of pipe tobacco reins, the harsh bite of cigars, our women smoke their cigarettes from holders stretching far, word is they have a fine desert, that they have made ice cream, to have that in these mountains rough…they’ve really made the scene. I stand on the broad piazza, by endless columns square, at the edge of the great plateau, to take the mountain air, the broad Hudson unfolds below, flanked by green, rolling farms, true peace comes in this lofty place far above the alarms, people sit in the rocking chairs, reading their serials, penny dreadfuls from old London, the latest dime novel, though some hide them when folks walk by, appearance must be kept, let people think they read Shakespeare, I hear that brings you ‘depth,’ the gardens up in the yard, tended well for color, and nearby roses sprout along a long, arching arbor. I walk across a small meadow, gets smaller every year, way back in the eighteen nineties a great hotel stood here, a place where the New Yorkers fled before the age of flight, when they had only train and horse to see they got here right. It burned down eighty years ago, it’s neighbors shared that fate, and all I know of what stood here were pictures made on plates, that bedazzaled and gilded age long ago left this plain, a few bits of stone foundation are now all that remains, it’s images and articles, that’s where it now exists, nature has reclaimed everything...yet the ghosts still persist.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required