Best Sitting Room Poems
My great, great Aunt had a lovely old home,
with many a wonderful story,
hidden within its walls.
A Victorian, architectural designers dream;
vaulted ceilings, full of ghosts;
where spirit voices sang of its splendor.
What I remember most, were the sparkly door knobs;
prisms reflecting the sunlight;
beautiful rainbow colors,
adorning her sitting room walls.
The animated colors of her crystalline chandelier
wove dancing shadows into the fabric.
As a small child, I reveled in that light-play;
how I loved her magical home.
Categories:
sitting room, home, house, poems, poetry,
Form:
Prose
A pre-lit Christmas tree sparkles the entrance
Monet, Van Gough, and Wassily Kandinsky prints
adorn the walls of her sitting room
a dozen painted roses sit in a faux crystal vase
and the smell of apple pie lingers in the air
coming from her Scentsy candle warmer
resting upon her replica baby grand piano
The seconds tick loudly from the tree house looking cuckoo clock
as I wait
patiently I wait
down the stairs she comes
waltzing ever so gracefully
ever so elegant
in her bright flowing yellow dress
accented by beautiful costume jewelry
my heart skips a beat
as we kiss hello
and I know
yes I know
This love is real
Categories:
sitting room, love,
Form:
Free verse
The dust has all settled
I'll go get the broom
sweep off the back porch
and the old sitting room
That wind storm was mighty
almost blew me away
the foundation was crumbling
as the house swung and swayed
The timbers were creaking
the roof sprung a leak
the shutters are broken
it really looked bleak
The old building survived
It's weathered but tough
It will stand tall and fight
when the going gets rough
There's much beauty left
in this old home of mine
I'll still be loving her
till the end of my time
02/22/2015
Your Best Poem With Metaphors
hosted by Silent One
Categories:
sitting room, home, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Temperatures fall on this late September day
She paces, thousands of times, back and forth
along with the soft sounds of Lionel Ritchie playing
in the old sitting room,
the room where they spent many a night
lying in front of a wood burning fire
sipping wine and sharing plans and dreams,
she peers out the large casement window
in hopes to see
if the mail had been delivered
if there was a letter for her
he was usually there by now
but the snow must have slowed him down
finally he has arrived.
That long walk to the end of the drive
bundled in her warmest jacket, scarf wrapped tightly
underneath her pure white ear muffs
wearing anything and everything
to keep the elements at bay.
finally she arrives
Her heart races, and with one peek, she smiles
grabs that letter and just cant wait
closes her eyes and holds it close to her face
she can smell his musk
she can imagine his soft touch
delicately she opens it up and reads :
My beloved
I long for the night when we can be together
to run my fingers through that silky hazel hair
tread my kisses down your neck
rub my hands across your soft toned olive skin
to slowly and passionately kiss you
like a real woman needs to be kissed
My beloved
I can't wait for the days I can hold you tight
when I can protect you
pamper you
make sweet love to you
My beloved
You are in my every thought and in my dreams
I think of you before I sleep
and again when I wake
I can picture those salty almond eyes
gazing into mine
until the end of time
My beloved I shall return to you shortly
I L U
I'm Yours Forever
Tears slowly fall down her blushed cheeks
The cold no longer bothers her
and her sated heart and the snowflakes begin to melt
Categories:
sitting room, love, , sweet love,
Form:
Free verse
The sofa may be stained and old
But what stories can it unfold
Sit ye down and you'll be told
It was on that sofa i met your mam
A few more kisses, and a few more drams
Through the bottom of the glass
She looked real glam
For in the morning
After the night before
To sleep on the couch
I'd always end up on the floor
The sitting room door always creaked
It was her father who always peaked
Just to be sure he knew i was there
And not slowly sneaking up the stair
So the sofa's in house's
With so many tales to be told
Are we going to divulge
And be so bold?
For there are kids called Brooklyn, India and Sahara
Kids of today, and kids of tomorrow
Children from Europe, and from Poland's Craiova
Not many kids have been called Sofa
" This just came to me after seeing the word Sofa in Doris Culverhouse's poem Stained "
Categories:
sitting room, funny
Form:
Rhyme
Only three of us now who knew
both sets of our grandparents.
The three of us, 96, 94 and 88,
how much time have we left?
There are sepia photos from the
old, first Brownie cameras, a few
portraits of some from a bit later,
all still, silent, as they were not in life.
Being the oldest, I recall two great-
grandmothers, albeit vaguely,
one only in a darkened bedroom,
the other short, chubby, with the
horn she put to her ear to listen.
My mother’s father, Grandpa Jones,
studied his Bible lessons every day, but
he died when Dan and I were little.
Who but we three now remember the
stern but kindly mother of my dad?
Grandma Pope had endless patience
teaching my small hands to make jam,
can tomatoes, make pie crust and bread.
She had an infectious laugh which sent
tears rolling down her cheeks.
She let me go alone to
the bakery to buy penny rolls.
Grandpa Pope first showed me a keyboard
and named the keys. An accomplished
pianist and organist, who had worked
for Chickering Pianos, he didn’t play
often any more, as he had toughened his hands
in the factory where he worked during
the Depression, but when he played
everyone was completely entranced.
My mother’s mother, Grandma Jones,
was Boston proper, a wonderful seamstress
and seemingly stern, but very loving.
I often would crawl into her bed at night.
When I had mumps she made me hot chocolate.
She would be sure I had hat and gloves
and take me to lunch at Jordan Marsh.
We did endless puzzles in her sitting room.
So much more to these people than
ever can be seen in a photograph.
Even this poem only scratches the surface.
The love, quirks, personalities are missing.
I suppose, some day, my descendants
will look at pictures of Doug and me
and wonder what kind of people WE were
and what WE really were like.
Categories:
sitting room, family, grandparents, introspection, memory,
Form:
Free verse
So here am I, are we, sit us,
a chair, a chair, a davenport.
White; blue; floral; bright;
we linger, and are never used.
Soft carpet: plush, divine.
So clean, untouched,
we wait for a miscreant.
'So you,' said I,
'how long, sat here
have you?'
'Too long,' said she,
'years too long
it seems.'
That chair, so soft,
she has eyes for me.
Yet here, away,
I may merely gape.
'Davenport,' said she,
'look away, have
some courtesy.'
'I'm blind!' said he,
to she, then I.
'Fifty years, seven
months sat here, have I.'
And there we sat, for
years, for months.
And never sat in that
room did they-- humans.
Categories:
sitting room, art, people
Form:
Blank verse
Nellie Gray Holland
1885 – 1899
I was never aware of the clock ticking
Or the spring spreading of the rose bud in my mother’s green garden.
I never saw the moonrise on a gray October night,
Or tasted the tart fruit of first love.
I never heard the cry of my baby
Or felt the warm heartbeat of a husband next to mine.
For birthdays and holidays
I lit the candles,
A dozen scented red candles,
And watched the ghostly shadows flicker on the walls
Of my mother’s special sitting room.
Shadows that danced and swayed and galloped.
Shadows that understood me
And listened to me.
They knew of my weak diseased heart
And of my impending early exit from Earth.
Clark Cemetery is beautiful in the fall.
The owls in the trees screech loudly
And the western winds make a music only I can hear.
My friend, will you kindly light a candle for me?
I am in the dark here
And I wish to see the dancing shadows again.
Categories:
sitting room, death, , western,
Form:
Epitaph
In the sitting room by the wall stands
Great Grandfather's pride and joy
The glass fronted mahogany bookcase
Scratched and worn, but still majestic
Housing beautiful old books
The choices of generations past
A set of Shakespeare Plays, leather bound
'Great Short Stories of the World' and
'The Lost World of the Kalahari'
Books on Botany and even Hypnosis
With Classics to improve the mind
Much thumbed dictionaries and a big red Atlas
Pictures of exotic places
Preserved
Stale smell add to the magic
For the curious child.
Categories:
sitting room, childhood
Form:
Prose Poetry
The correlation between the bull and its southern identity,
most likely gives significance to its “calf land” description.
The labour room where renaissance was born
and historically grown through Michelangelo, Donatello, Da Vinci and others.
Finds great contentment in the treasury of the family.
Its empire once hitting heights way beyond the white mountains,
from Portugal to Syria and from Britain to the North African deserts;
while in possession of a language with more Latin words than any other.
It is a bird in constant carriage of two small chicks
while one is distant in the oldest continuous constitution,
the other stands apart in locking its city Gates at night.
The contributions of two major pillars out of so many
in the awesome support of the eighteenth century enlightenment
arguably equates the international influence of its “Three fountains”.
It has great command in the language of music
as the first global operas were composed in its sitting room.
From the Sardinian islands to the spectacle of the leaning tower of prisa,
this world nation with a significant portion
of its economic power rested on the dealings of mafias
is home to ‘A’ grade designers and highly rated sport automobiles.
The birth place of Galileo Galilei and Carlo Collodi,
engaging in unsaid romance with its own wolf;
making leisure a charismatic ritual through the evening stroll
and enjoying the biggest holiday in Christmas to Epiphany
is this land with more masterpieces than any other in the planet
and having the largest tertiary institution in its continent.
Categories:
sitting room, community, earth, education, environment,
Form:
Ode
My lateness once more has caused me immediate damnation,
and my unstable state, a product of my lost attention.
Overcoming the limitation by doing three person's work at once
resulted to a failed manipulation
of compressing minutes' activities into seconds
just to beat time and achieve punctuality.
Reaching for the door with already aggravated emotions.
In self caution, I knew something was still missing
then I realized it's a stuff I cannot go without.
Oh My God! This means, beginning all over again.
A complication I most feared in a situation like this.
My dwelling place now seem a mansion
as even my bedroom has undergone exaggeration
which at this moment isn't as accommodating
as the habitation I once knew.
Starring at the plain surface of the mirror Table gave no answers
and already praying for the fruitful termination of this trying time,
as I searched among the cosmetic items it harbours.
My next location is obviously the wardrobe
and even with the intense frustration
I was still calm enough to suppress the friction with myself
as I searched each and every pocket of my clothing
which are all hanging in straight vertical position.
And yet, my state gradually reaching exacerbation,
cos' there is no answer.
In milliseconds, my Pillows are in two corners of the room
I prayed for any sort of temptation but not this
as the bed calmly accepts my aggressive search
of my item which suffers an ungodly abduction.
The Investigation continues with a quick scan through my shoes,
and finally leaving the room with no appreciation
which now looks like a ghetto market of a third world country,
a demotion I usually never allow, not until now.
The larger sitting room just increased my retardation
having hope of finding my "Precious" would be mere hallucination
so therefore, I barely did much other than a mere Inspection.
Yet, cannot find its location,
which simply increased the heap of burning coal on my head.
Already tired of exclaiming several holy Indignation
careful flash back and calculations of my previous movements
yielded no results.
"check the Double Seater" was my last thought.
And as I acted in submission to that command,
the invaluable material surprisingly fell off my shirt
My Car Keys!
Categories:
sitting room, adventure, allegory, confusion, depression,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
She was tidying up the food store,
then soon a mouse appeared on a shelf.
"What a cuuuute lil thing....." she whispered.
So touched by it's white fur and pink nose,
that she called her husband from the sitting room.
He came, he saw, and searched for a baseball bat.
"I'm killing this pest!" he shouted, as he raised the bat.
His wife stood right in front of the mouse.
"If you gonna kill this cute, lil thing, you gonna pass
through me first!" she quipped.
Her husband was surprised to the core of his bone marrow,
that he sat on a stool close to him. He cupped his palms
on the bat, and lay his head on top of them.
"What are you thinking, Sweetheart?" she asked.
He looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time,
and shook his head with dismay written all over his face.
"You love that mouse, don't cha?"
Her face became red with rage.
"Ok, so you want to kill this cutie because you're jealous?!
Ha! This is unbelievable! How can you believe I love it more than
I do love you??!!"
Her husband's face had slowly turned from dismay to utter
amazement.
Noticing the look on his face, she became angrier.
"Aha! Now you are chuckling in your heart because you don't
care at all!! You are still planning how you'll kill this innocent
creature, isnt it?!?!?"
"Honey, that's a rodent, ok?"
"Now you think I don't know what a rosent is?!?! I had an A
in Biology and had a scholarship to......never mind!!
Her husband bursted out laughing.
She had a blank look on her face.
"Sweetie, let's make it a pet....."
"Why didn't you say so before!!" she screamed, as she hugged
him, while seated on the stool.
"What name will we call it?" he asked.
"Hmmmmmm....... "Tommy!"
"Wha...what?! Your ex's name?! You're not serious!!
He treated you like a douche bag, and you still call out his name?!
She was enraged once again.
"One, it's just a name. Two, I'm not a douche bag!!"
For hours they argued from one point to the other,
as the mouse helped itself out with some dried corn....
Categories:
sitting room, hilarious, humor, imagery, life,
Form:
Narrative
The dust has all but settled
let me go get the broom
sweeping off the back porch
and that old sitting room
Last night's wind storm was mighty
it nearly blew me far away
the foundation was a crumbling
as the house just swung and swayed
The timbers they were creaking
the tin roof has sprung a leak
the shutters all are broken
for a moment it really looked bleak
But that old building has survived
worn and weathered but tough
it stood up tall and fought
when everything got rough
There's so much beauty left
in this old home of mine
I believe I shall be loving her
till the very end of time
Categories:
sitting room, home,
Form:
Personification
Sleigh bells ring, do finish shopping, the countdown is on,
Be kind enough to spare your precious hours two or more
Being Indians, we’re quite new to this kind of celebration
Welcome to my “Holiday home” at this special time of year
We borrowed two whimsical trees flanking the front door
A large, chunky garland ready to greet you as you will enter
With Santa saying “The end of the world is home” as you enter
Welcome to my “Holiday home” at this special time of year
Our humble dining room features all things traditional
These *Laxmi ornaments of gold bring sparkle and color
Wish I could keep this glittery peacock our bird national
Welcome to my “Holiday home” at this special time of year
Here is our sitting room is done in a theme musical
The tree filled with ornaments of gold, green and copper
We’re in the kitchen; here we decided to go whimsical
Welcome to my “Holiday home “at this special time of year.
Oh, so hard to bypass the yummy treats for our tummies
Crown Pork Roast, *Jalebi and ladoos, curry and cauliflower
Baked brie, prime rib, *pakodas with Chutney, and cookies
Welcome to my “Holiday home” at this special time of year.
Bear with me as we are vegetarians we have our dishes.
And for desserts, peanut butter cookies and candies there
Fresh snow dripping out, please move to the safe recesses
Welcome to my “Holiday home” at this special time of year
*********
*Indian name**Indian delicacies,
==========================================
Tenth Place Win in
Contest: Holiday Poem by P.D.
I am in India and enjoying the Diwali Holidays, today being the last day
of the Diwali festival.
Categories:
sitting room, holiday, time,
Form:
Kyrielle
Mama, mama, mama hey!
Mama, mama, mama ho!
Mama has a single room -
A single room my many rooms:
Dining room and sitting room;
Mama's room my living room.
Mama, mama, mama hey!
Mama, mama, mama ho!
Mama has a single bed -
A single bed my many beds:
sleeping bed and reading bed;
Mama's bed my bouncing bed.
Mama, mama, mama hey!
Mama, mama, mama ho!
Mama has a single pot -
A single pot my many pots:
Breakfast pot and supper pot;
Mama's pot my yummy pot.
Mama, mama, mama hey!
Mama, mama, mama ho!
If I buy you motor car,
If I build you marble house;
Still I can't pay all my debts -
All you do for me to be.
Mama, mama, mama hey!
Mama, mama, mama ho!
Love you give from birth till now;
Oh I pray for you today:
Better health and longer life.
Mama, mama, mama hey!
Mama, mama, mama ho!
Who can love me as you do?
Mama, mama, pecks on cheeks:
Pann,pann; a peck on cheek: pannnnnnn...
7/11/ 2015.
Categories:
sitting room, children, children, mother,
Form:
Free verse