Best Apartment Poems

Start our life in this new apartment.
Its small, as small as our love started...
all I need is your hands 
and just enough room to dance.

The music starts,
you pull me in.
We're two hearts 
this is where we begin.
This is our, 
our very first apartment.

Such a little...

Continue reading...

Winter is approaching.
 I feel it in my floorboards; in my baseboards;
in every nook and cranny.
I wait to be filled again at this time of Thanksgiving, and
As I wait, sounds of the past linger in my consciousness:

The excited moans of the men and of the...

Continue reading...

The last box, packed and labeled
Had been put into the truck.
The keys were to be left on the counter
And the door locked behind us.

One last look around the empty apartment
To be sure nothing had been left behind.
I ran my hand over the mark on the...

Continue reading...

Come back dear,
my empty apartment
longs for you
with its door wide open;
bring with you
those candles of love
and light up
every corner of it,
drive the frigidity away
with your warm smile,
bring some rain, a
handful of sunshine
and few poetry;
paint the rooms
with the rain
so that you can
drench in it
whenever the heat
of...

Continue reading...

Bed

Shakes and slumber alike
Float upon me
Wet emotion
Soaks through and stains
For her smiles
And his furrowed brow
Imprint
The laughter and pain

Mirror

Me, the shine and prism
Of her hatred
Endless hours of
Not good enough
And his reassurance
Of loveliness
That will never
Be understood

Carpet

Pounding thrashing
Of their two loves
Upon me at two am
Smiling after the
Sound of...

Continue reading...

Damp winter cold pervades
The emptiness
White painted walls 
Clean sanded floors
All signs of occupation
Gone -...

Continue reading...

A stained teacup sits sadly in the sink
Ashes of a past fire grey the hearth
An unread newspaper, old man's spectacles
A packet of mints lay on the scratched surface
Of a beeswaxed table
Waiting for Thomas Ryan to return...

Continue reading...

The
Door 
Was closed 
Forever
Leaving behind all
The memories gathered through the
Pass of time for decades in the flouted and forced bond
That shattered in the floor as a glass bottle jilting  evermore a flawed alliance











1-29-2016...

Continue reading...

"Man, I love that Dire Straits song "Brothers In Arms" ", he said in the kitchen
"That Hammond organ just takes me drifting..."
Through wormholes and lunar craters in a UFO.
Friends, nuclear waste, pain, insomnia, vacuum salesmen, all disappear in a single tone.
"Rosie!!!...bring me a Listerine soaked...

Continue reading...

The New Apartment

By Elton Camp

The apartment looked pretty good to old Mrs. Pike
The area was a bit run-down, so that she didn’t like
The place unexpectedly became available for lease
When the former tenant was taken away by police

The landlord’s cleaning crew, thorough sure were not
Some of...

Continue reading...

Hot summers
Crushes numbers
Seeing the moonlight lit
Dancing cuz we felt like it

Staying up all night
Having occasional fights

Blue and orange kitchens
Nobody would get it

I miss you now
I'm happy
I don't want it back
But I wish you missed me

Car crash
Outside 
Heard the bust
You ran fast 
We both thought it...

Continue reading...

Mom’s Tree House Apartment


Step inside, warm feelings greet you…

On the entryway wall, President Kennedy signed a condolence letter
from 1962, addressed to my Grandma, thanking her for Grandpa’s service in WW1.
Below, perched on an old credenza, the Milk Glass Chicken still delights her
grandchildren with a treat...

Continue reading...

we squeeze in the moment, breeze by the apartment of gore, go to the store with a nail and a 2x4 , flip the sign on the door, excuse yourself coz you're poor and ignored so implore to expose the cluttered shore of the strand...

Continue reading...

Out in the open
on a very tall pole,
sunk into cement -
an expensive birdhouse,
designed for Purple Martins.

Mister Bluebird sits
atop the house,
guarding, watching,
while his lady works,
building her nest.

His presence causes
the Purple Martins
to pass on by, seeking
another place to build.

Twelve compartments,
eleven of them empty
except for wisps of straw...

Continue reading...

High above the quiet, darkened streets of January, the night wind begins to whisper secrets through my apartment window casements. Far below me lie four cafes, all in sync as they awaken from daytime hibernation to begin an evening ritual of turning on lights, welcoming...

Continue reading...