Best Brownstone Poems

It looks like a simple brownstone building,
Not much different then any other but it’s residents,
Are of the haunted kind, not made of flesh and bone.
In every window a wind chime stirs, gently caressed by
A chilling winds icy finger tips, after all this is known as
The...

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The old screen door still welcomes me, a familiar song I've heard before..
But oddly now, it's out of tune.  It has a wail of some despair
After this,...who'll pass this way?
Will they use the rug and wipe their feet, erase away the grime or sleet?
Or...

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Sometimes when matters are in the gray,
it ain’t always black and white
There are times when emotions are deep blue,
canary yellow thoughts can make us wanna fly, shy away
Then, bright orange glowing memories
bring gentle, evergreen smiles
As time’s seasonal change sunset down on us
Being lifelong lovers, we...

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Remembering days of young- long ago 
Adventurous me, I yearned for playtime 
Playing with my siblings on mounds of snow 
To the peaks of high mountains I would climb 

'Neath fallen oaks rotted stumps, I have hid 
I used to be so sly and so...

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Trinkets and treasures, given away
Something for nothing, what can I say?
Jewelry or gold
Some artwork of old
A gift for someone on my mind today

Shopping, searching, a second hand store
Pirate and pilfer, the bargains galore
A want or a need
Obsession or greed
It all depends what you're looking for

Recycle...

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From Harlem's pulse, a symphony untold,
Stories etched in a brownstone, dreams unfold.
Streetlamps pierce the twilight, jazz ignites,
Hope flickers, a flame against the nights.

Laughter rings on stoops where neighbors meet,
Gospel choirs rise, voices strong and sweet.
Stony sidewalks hold a million strides,
Asphalt dreams where destiny confides.

Stars peek...

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Against gray walls, soft light reflects
Her memories, her endless quest
For contentment, not so complex
Her gentle soul always felt blessed

She recalls all the times of hope
Against gray walls, soft light reflects
Faith is with her so she can cope
Joys come, beyond what she expects

Love is the thing...

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COOKING WITH JIM                      

actually, with him in spirit, in the kitchen 
of his quaint brownstone on West 12th Street
in Manhattan, decades after his death.

And...

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The branch
Of the mighty
Oak tree
That hangs so free
All bent
The grey brownstone
On the corner of 
110 and lex
Survive
And
the old 
Haggard man 
A Survivor
All bent
Points up
To the oak
While the young
Boy looks on 
in 
Reverence and hate
A reminder.......

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strolling
                         old cracked sidewalks
                 ...

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Germany post World War II,
torn, impoverished.
Ruled by Marshal Law,
imposed by the victorious.
Occupational forces walk
the rubble streets.
Civilians cower
in fear,
in hunger,
uncertainty.

A farm boy, Ohio bred,
cook in the US Army.
Young, handsome,
veteran to his country’s cause.
Viewed the hunger daily,
with sympathetic eye.
Spirited surplus loaves
to a fraulein in the night.
Young, attractive,
veteran...

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NEW YORK-STYLE HUNGARIAN STEW

In the darkest corner of her living room, 
she waits to eat. A stone’s throw away, 
her ex lives with their kids, his goulash 
wafting reek into her open windows. 

Through the one in her master bedroom, 
the man could easily catch...

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Infection Sublime
                 by Odin Roark

with his lone return
on this New York street
in middy’s humid heat
he did see shutters closed
behind antique glass
whose reflection reminded
he wasn’t born there
only grew up in...

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Walking Meditation
                    by Odin Roark

“And I thought marriage was hard.”

Taking Meditation for a walk
nags me with why I’m such a failure at this.
It knows what I...

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They’ve found a body in my back yard. I
imagine what a dead house would look 
like. A stillborn Brownstone with its Jurassic 
sandstone hiccupping fossils and family 
feuds. Terrace houses would ripple rumour
and rife gossip from one mirrored house to the
next, those prison bars on...

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