Best Friendshiphouse Poems
Do me a favor, before you enter my house, just wipe your feet.
Release all that dirt you accumulated on the streets.
This house is sacred, a house that promotes self worth, a house where egos are deflated.
This house is a work in progress , from the door leading you through a history of my life.
So wipe those feet clean, because I have come too far for you to tarnish my dream.
I’ve come too far to have you track dirt on this houses floor, it foundation. Tracks that will
lead me back to a place I don’t want to be. To the man I was before.
So wipe those feet, cause how will you feel me, understand me if you don’t want to come
clean, come open, come correct.
You have got to understand that im not that same kid. I have moved on, grown up, basically
changed the way I live.
These walls don’t talk they breathe. This house is alive with the cultures I am experiencing,
the past I am realizing, and the future my heart is conceiving.
Are you willing to enter my life and see this project through. Just wipe those feet and we can
begin.
Are you coming, cause I invited you in. You go as far as you want, or as far as your heart
will let you hear.
I hope your heart will listen to me till the end. Only because I want to take you upstairs. I
am starting on the next level and for that I will need support, for that I will need a friend.
So wipe those feet clean of the dirt, that ignorance, that stubborn attitude that has left you
deaf, dumb and blind.
Wipe those feet clean before entering this sacred house, my mind.
When I was a small girl going to school,
I picked my friends carefully.
They had to wear clothes no better than I,
else I felt poor.
They had to be nearly my size,
else I felt fat, skinny or too tall.
They had to live in a house no better than me,
else, I felt underprivileged.
I never questioned their silliness,
I demanded it,
else I felt stupid.
They had to be loyal,
for I would take care of them to the end.
A hand held, an occasional hug and a good, short cry proved they trusted me and I cared
about them.
Now, I'm an old lady.
I pick my friends carefully.
They have to wear clothes no better than me,
Else I feel less chic'.
They can be any size, the bigger they are, the smaller I look.
We are all shrinking, I don't feel so tall.
Any house is a home.
Silliness is better than counting aches and pains, but I will listen to those too.
Loyalty is only as long as my arm and that's o.k.
I will be your friend as long as you will have me.
I can listen to the worst of your problems with a kind ear.
A hug or hand held means, " I like you and I am there for you."
We are all little girls again.
I remember fields of yesterday,
The friends that used to play.
The house in the field,
That looked haunted.
Peering through the window,
My companions and I wondered.
Who had left the house behind,
Forgotten in a field of dreams.
Days of playing in the alley,
Amongst the chestnut trees with friends.
Hurling stones at the chestnuts,
Felling them, an activity that children choose.
The day the theatre came to town,
Dressed in my favorite white sweater.
With the tiny poodle brooch,
My red cotton skirt.
A complimentary bag of popcorn,
Then the play began and finished.
Christmas candles made of wax,
With whipped wax poured over the traditional candle.
Finished with sparkles of all colors,
A beautiful present for Christmas.
Then school began and friends continued,
So much learning and many more experiences to come.
Author: Gwen Meyer-Erlach Schutz
Just now sitting outside,
with my dear old Murphy,
who has such a tender sweet heart.
He's looking at me with that sparkle
in his soft brown eyes and telling
me he wants to go in the house now.
The old sun is beating down on us
both, but he loves that coolness of
our house, that has a swamp cooler,
that Murphy loves to lay by,
he can't get enough of it,
so in the house we go,
so I can tell the world,
about this loving dog
I adore so.
wrote 7-31-08