Best Cellar Poems
The cellar door where I could find him,
just dreaming his cares away,
thinking of his younger days,
when he would roam
the back woods looking
for rabbits or a bird or two.
Cellar door was where he always
laid to escape the hot summer sun
and to take in the cool breezes,
that sometimes blew his way.
Cellar door where I would go
and talk with him and get a kiss
or two and a wag from his bushy tail,
putting my arms around him and
remembering our days of childhood.
Old Shep passed on in 1960, the year I turned 17,
remembering so many things about him and that
old cellar door.
wrote 3-30-11
There is a woodpile in my in-laws’ cellar, and some coal, but other rumored things also.
And it has been there a long time since anyone tripped down these broken concrete steps.
Maybe twenty or thirty years; we inherited this home a long time ago.
We have sold it four times on contract,
which has fallen through again.
My husband is not here,
He cannot take it.
But I can, so I take a couple of steps,
Until I get within a foot, when I stop dead as
I can smell the mold through the three-inch door.
The rumor is that there are treasures down there.
I do not know. We were never allowed near this cellar door.
Now I am sixty-six, so technically old enough to go down into this cobwebby den,
But I can smell the mold through the door.
So I back up and rest in an old lawn chair, left by one of the people who thought they
were buying the house before they decided to desert it.
I can still smell the mold, so I back up a bit further, the sun on my face, my feet leaning against a gentle lavender clover.
I am terrified of mold, as I am an asthmatic, and mold could trigger some awfulness in me.
So here I sit, staring as others wander in and out, poking among dusty things
That are disintegrating as they are being brought out into the sun.
Other relatives are coughing; trying to breathe as they haul green and brown stuff out,
Most indistinguishable as real things at first or second glance.
Most needing a power washing, that would completely decimate it.
Maybe she had the right idea, one says, pointing at me, as I lie here, soaking
Up the sun rays. I take off my shoes and push my toes into the clover.
Then I turn my face up, letting the sun hit my nose.
Are you kidding? A teenager yells. This treasure hunt is great!
She runs back down the steps to haul out more loot that her prissy mother
Will never let her take in the car, let alone in the house.
I know because I am prissy girl’s mother.
So here I sit, in a falling-apart green lawn chair, watching the show.
Thinking how my mother-in-law is probably up in heaven laughing, as she too
Smells the mold through that cellar door.
Behind the window-pane I stand
rubbing mist away
From a distance I watch them
holding hands
as Santa Clause pass by
upon his Christmas sleigh
Slow,So slow they walk
towards a mistletoe
He removes the veil
which covers her grey
beneath the falling snow
He kisses deep wrinkles
which outline her cheek
Each wrinkle a blessing
before eternal sleep
On a Holy night of Winter
they must be feeling cold
yet in their eyes
a fire keeps burning
of a secret untold
Their eyes tell a story
Their arms know romance
Their heart hold a song
Their feet know the dance
In their smile
I see the future I long for
In their dream
I build one of my own
I would be thinking
thinking of you
till the last of red hollies
till forgotten memories
till the end of starlight
I will be waiting
waiting for you.
Inspired by a Christmas song
He forgot to padlock the cellar door
Perhaps now I can discover
What it is he does below our kitchen floor
That he keeps secret from my mother.
I flick the switch but find no light
That just inflames this kittens curiosity
So I descend the stairs into the dead of night
Now lurking far below me .
A spider scurries across my hand
Then I hear the scurrying of mice
Too late for screams, I've played my hand
If I lose I pay the price.
I feel around the cellar wall
My eyes desperate to adjust
Longing to hear my mother call
but continue on I must.
Wait! Wait! what is this?
Another switch I've found
Light flickers in this dark abyss
I hear my own heart pound.
that step ladder should not be there
What are you hiding dad?
I want to look but do I dare
Its then I see that I've been had.
Devilish faces jump out at me
I scream and turn to run
Then I hear them laughing hysterically
and there stood dad with mum.
Poem inspired by viewing a painting by Stephanie Deshpande
entitled , ''Exploring the cellar ''
Cellar Door
The word cellar door, may paint a cold, dark image,
But the two words together, are simply magnificent.
They roll off the tongue, like a red silk carpet
And when you find something so beautiful,
You should not forget it.
For cellar door, I simply adore,
For it's a connection of words, that are simply beautiful.
Two words together, that when spelt right have a meaning,
But when they are separated and you see them differently.
You are able to see, why they contradict each other;
For cell keeps us trapped, we can't run free from this evil.
But to adore is to love, the purest of feelings;
The thing that can't be beaten, with an English Dictionary,
Or a thoughtless, harsh word, from a fool in the audience,
Who will never see or hold such beauty,
For they truly are ignorant.
These thoughts are my own;
But I was inspired to write this poem.
If you missed Donnie Darko
And don't know where I got this inspiration,
A teacher with passion, spoke the words cellar door
And explained they were her, two favorite words of all.
So remember cellar door, for it simply means love;
Don't let them lock away your feelings, behind a cell door
And keep them buried, so no one can see your love show.
Don't hide from your feelings, for it will serve you no good.
Will you choose to be trapped inside your cell?
Or applaud me, for I saw what is plain to see
And I am willing to tell.
Cellar door sounds fantastic and when it is spoken by a lover,
You shall see its true meaning, simply means I love you forever.
Together we are happily trapped, in this notion called love,
But we are free to be free,
For we have the key to this cellar door.
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
The cellar door you left open,
Held the lock you had broken
The Pain you had hidden
Was down the unlit stairs
Step by step I had fallen
My footsteps where like crawling
Time went by so slow
I couldnt seem to bear
As I went to step again,
I realized it was the end
I waited for my eyes to adjust
But only darkness sunk in.
I called your name
It broke through the still air
I heard a response
No, just my echo
I walked blindly through the cold
I was searching for your soul
Because it held mine
Because you are mine.
I reached out to feel a touch
But only air was in reach of such
My worry grew more
My footsteps grew louder
I called your name
It broke through still air
I heard a response
No, just my echo
I heard a loud crash
Somewhere from the back
I abruptly turned around
As I headed for the stairs
I crawled up the steps
Each one caught my breath
I looked toward the light
So dim, yet so bright
I screamed your name
It broke through still air
I heard a response
No, just a my echo
As I finally reached the top
The cellar door was locked
I pushed with all my might
My pushing grew to fight
I cried your name
It broke through the still air
I heard a response
No, just my echo
I couldnt breath
Where could you be?
Where am I
What am I?
I felt a gentle tap
Chills ran up my back
I turned around and saw you
As i saw me.
I reached out to touch your face
But I just hit glass
You turned silver,
Spread unto a wall.
I blinked and you were gone
I was gone
I stared into a mirror
And glared at the familiar stranger
The celler door was closed and locked
Was I ever inside?
And if you were never here,
Then who and what was I?
I cried your name
It broke through the still glass
I saw a response
No, just a reflection.
in an old cellar mason jars
full of canned sunsets line
the shelves.
ripened years ago.
they have names like
sylvia's famous peach
halves.
Now the spiders have never
weaved such eloquent sermons.
The dust is beautifully barren.
untouched....
The preservation of sugar kept in shades of
Orange and Sun burnt yellow.
Contract be this Devil
This wine cellar of darkness
Satan, turn me loose
We walk through the doorway, heard you calling from the hall
To find you in the bedroom not breathing at all
I drag your body to the cellar where we lay,
the wax it melts away,
I kiss your face...
Now we are starting to love you more,
your body's on the canvas,
That I painted on the floor
Now you wait,
like the drug,
like the change in the pain it goes on for so long
And oh,
now it hurts in the worst way,
now that you're gone,
its so wrong,
its so wrong....
If I could take you somewhere,
I'd take you to my darkest place,
scatter you in art forms, admire the whore,
beauty in different ways your hands on picture frames,
your eyes in the glass wear your face as a mask
Now they are starting to love you more,
a gallery of your beauty no charge at the door
As you wait,
like the drug,
like the change in the pain it goes on for so long
And oh,
now it hurts in the worst way,
now that your gone,
it's so wrong,
it's so wrong....
And down below your veins run dry your vacant eyes,
I lost control your face is pale,
your body's cold
And down below your veins run dry your vacant eyes,
I lost control your face is pale,
your body's cold
(face is pale your body's cold )
Wait, like the drug,
like the change in the pain it goes on for so long
And oh, now it hurts in the worst way,
now that your gone,
it's so wrong,
it's so wrong...
Klaus is a ravening louse
WHO is his edict-ing house
Where he whips errant fantasy out
There he acts world bell-weather
Strutting and foaming of mouth
His offering Though's really small
A magnifier; here is the call.'
The maiden did shout
What's the slug all about?
So he slid through a crack in the wall
Rats in the cellar, squirrels in the tree,
things aren't the same as they used to be.
When I left for school with my li'l lunch pail,
I didn't expect a penguin to swallow a whale.
Such an injustice, I've never seen,
a cantaloupe falsely imprisoned a bean.
It's unheeded screams, uncontrolled laughter,
when it's trolls that live happily ever after.
Doors off their hinges, pancakes are stacked,
biscuits are burning, windows are cracked.
Termites in the baseboards, rabbits that fly,
pigs that regularly take to the sky.
Voices that whisper, mad dogs that bite,
winds that go howling and look for a fight.
Wrapped in cellophane, mixed in a blender,
taped up in cardboard and returned to sender.
Rainbows and ravens, kaleidoscope dreams,
leafless branches, gallows lit by moonbeams.
Music boxes, pink ribbons and bows,
tags come on packages; tags come on toes.
Curtains lifted, sick, unsavory scenes,
gear wheels in gear wheels run strange machines.
Dissected, disowned and double-downsized,
unaided, unacknowledged and unrecognized.
Puzzles, conundrums that cannot be solved,
water plus turpentine make witches dissolve.
Pimentos are diced, harsh words are spoken,
nightmares are jumbled; eggshells are broken.
Lost in the doldrums, eyeballs protrude,
walking on blisters, a horse latitude.
Spineless jellyfish, lackeys and flunkies,
silver tongued vultures, branch swinging monkeys.
Experts and pundits, paid authorities,
Kool-Aid in canisters, down on your knees.
Bishops take pawns, the fat lady sings,
fires ablaze on black nights with kings.
Shattered stars, fragmented stones,
shining splinters, bleak, burning bones.
Songs without meaning, songs without words,
sung by unseen phantoms and silent birds.
Refrigerators with pictures nobody knows,
eyes staring back, no answers disclose.
Spiders and spinning bicycle wheels,
buffalos, bandits, and slippery seals.
Electric toothbrushes, electric chairs,
lethal injections, pushed down the stairs.
Pieces on the floor, a sad state of disarray,
the gift you've left me is insanity's bouquet.
You stole my cookies, pilfered my cat,
laughed at me roundly and turned me down flat.
Mice it in the attic go chitter chatter,
have I lost my wits or gone mad as a hatter?
I crept through the night just like a creepy crawler.
The smell of dust mixed in the reek of wine.
Lo and behold there was a crack in a mighty fine line.
Dripping and drooling with many more pleasures to be,
The darn rats were the nastiest gnawers.
Dark and dinghy I continued to look and see,
The Private Cellar locked with no key.
Back and forth my knees break and bend,
Leaning back reaching across the floor I’m at my end.
Walls and tunnels with no light in sight,
Lo and behold I’m a match to light in flight.
Panting and hissing with many more needs to please,
The darn bats were the trickiest thieves.
Cold and sweaty I continued to be a crook.
The Private Cellar is where I found the baited hooks.
The animal that will choose.
He preys on the weak.
Stalking or striking.
The decisions he makes.
He whispers your name.
He strikes fear in your heart.
From down in the cellar.
He'll squeeze the life out of
you.
Manipulation is his game.
But he prefers persuasion.
Don't you dare speak his name.
Don't get pervasive.
There's two things you should
know.
He's not just a friend.
He's the enemy of darkness.
He will not give in.
The Adjective Cellar
Nestling smugly twixt pepper and salt
The adjective cellar begins its assault
When carelessly picked by some epicure
Who sadly considers himself connoisseur
Once the poor dinner guest flips up the top
The words tumble out, they’re awkward to stop
They bounce on the table and under the chairs
And yelling and screaming they bound up the stairs
Normally nouns are wrapped up in chains
Tortured and bound and horribly maimed
Now they’re ecstatic about to be pleasured
As picturesque words stand up to be measured!
The Vicar remarks on these halcyon days
Whilst Major Winstanley has Draconian ways
And poor Mrs Kingsley’s exordium chatter
Falls willy nilly on euphoric batter
The twins are excited in ectopic manner
The cats caught its tail in a Hashemite planner
The Doctor is dissident, red in the face
Flapping his hands with acrimonious grace
Sadly the dinner has come to a close
The adjective cellar is back in repose
The nouns are re-bound the adverbs placated
The Vicar, the Major, the Doctor berated
But wasn’t it fun to see how our language
Can blossom and bloom and happily languish
In even the narrowest pinch penny mind
When the fruits of the Adjective cellar are vined
The sound alone
dismisses sight and sense
and seals romance
beneath my lips,
fair bursting from my heart.
Transcending even consciousness,
it dares evoke
by virtue of its utterance
the richness of the evening star,
the wealth imparted as a flower,
Stella d'Oro, gleams for me.
And then outside my universe,
beyond the worth of promise
underneath the earth
such simple fortune lies
in synchronicity, tracing back
to symbols on the cave wall,
then riding on the breath,
arriving stained with beauty
and with tears.
May there always be a cellar door
on which to play, to celebrate
the loveliness of sense
in transformation,
not by mere design,
but by the holiness of art.
~