Best Introspectionhouse Poems
I used to pass an empty house
On my way home from school
I was only ten years old then
I heard that older people lived
There
But I never saw them.
Found old photos
Showed them to Dad
Where’d you get them he asked?
Found them in the old house I said
Then he and mother spoke
In the privacy of their bedroom
I saw the shadows of their arms
Move
And point toward my room
This was the 1950’s
Times were different
And some things
Were just never talked about.
When the old house was torn down
I went inside
To look
And to explore
Kicking an odd piece of dirt
The soft rotted wood moved
And something flipped up
Bones
Some as big as my leg.
But it was the damp smell of decay
That I remembered
Vividly
Even at that time
When anything new
Was always exciting
This was different
I had not experienced anything like this before
But I would years later
Ten years later
A decade to wait.
I was In Country
Two tours
Separated from my group
Never found
Missing in action
But really I’m dead
Been like this for years
All that’s left
Of me
Are bone fragments
Part of a femur
And a scratch of faded cloth
Scattered over a vast green landscape
At the edge of a jungle.
Occasionally I hear digging sounds
Not the heavy shovel kind
But a gentle probing
Of earth
Someone intent on finding something
But not wishing to disturb
They haven’t found me
Yet
So I still wait.
I never got used to the damp smell of decay
But just the same I take solace
In that smell
Because it reminds me of
Long ago
When I was just a schoolboy
Coming home.
has a two story part,
a one story part,
a new part,
an old part
and an antique part.
Gables and pediments facing all directions of the compass
Tie all the parts together.
There are some concave outside walls;
There are some convex Inside walls.
The house breathes.
It sees with its many large window lights;
Knowing where the kids are,
Watching the horses kick up their heels,
Catching glimpses of new spring kittens
scurrying out from under the porch,
Seeing with watchful eyes
as the kids ski behind flying horses,
Keeping an eye on the dog
herding the grand-baby away from the corrals.
Seeing the skunks, racoons, foxes and coyotes
slip by as we sleep,
They brace against the winds
as they turn from south to north.
The glass in the antique part ripples
keeping the view in constant motion –
never resting.
The grand antique porch has hosted birthdays; graduations; weddings;
rendezvous and funerals.
Giving sanctuary to many a friend
needing a place to come and sit in quiet for a while
The house takes comfort from the music of a whistle
coming from the workshop.
Then watching the kids go, one at a time.
Then the whistler was gone –
Yet it still holds out its arms and wings and peaks
securely protecting its remaining occupant.
The house suits me,
it is my eye candy,
it holds my heart.
I will live my last in this house
surrounded by my life.
it is not what a...
house looks like on the outside....
but it's the love that flows within....
that makes a house a home...
Just 25 when I decided to take the dive
Home ownership was the landing strip
Built in 1924; lots of old charm to adore
Americas dream or so it seemed
The house was old and had spots of mold
With the price tag, all I saw was gold
4 bedrooms were large and it had a garage
Basement gets water; I thought just seal around the border
Bathroom was offensive; clean up - inexpensive
Kitchen was the worst; I’d tackle that first
Let’s just say the list went from bad to worst
My 1st house was cursed…
Owning a house was not so simple
Fixing it up took a toll on my mental
Having an open mind and vision were essential
Now it’s a rental with great income potential
Lay
In the storm of a creator’s inspired landscape
Spirit appeared as though since ever
Its invisible droplets of essence
Embedded in all recipients
Allowing for an errant notion of knowledge
A house without a blueprint
Spectacular in its presence
Boundless in its multiple expressions
Renewing itself without instruction or direction
Other than its own survival
The house the Lord built
That introduced the concept of choice
That begot notions of individuality
That illuminated the capacity for self-aggrandizement
That shed light on definitions of difference
That ignored in Whose Universal image all definitions belong
That enabled His light to become apart
So that only those who understood and sought
Could reach for its encompassing warmth
Thus subjugating even Him
To otherness
A choice
I bought a chandelier
and built a house around it
It was one of a kind
and heavy too
it reminded me of a castle
So I took it home
put it in the attic
because
there was nowhere to hang it
It had to have space
to hang
It needed room
to be seen
So the house was built
to house
the chandelier
And now it hangs in the foyer
of my home
And my home
hangs like the chandelier
over my head