step …
across the sill
this haunted house
walls of torn paper, dripping
crumbling plaster ceilings
hanging like rotten vines on a gaunt
and bony frame
dark, broken windows, the
empty eyes that stare -
once aglow with
the bright from within
life and light … and love
made a home
until …
just an ember -
one flame of your kiss -
and it was gutted
burned raw and ruined
with no thought to what filled these rooms
or graced the facades
or warmed the meager marrow …
now all phantoms
howling in the barren halls
sodden and saddened
for sake of the abandoned -
the threadbare -
dilapidated … desolate
welcome to the
vacancy …
your fool.
Copyright © 2023 Gregory Richard Barden
( artwork is a number two pencil sketch of the cottage from “Summer of ‘42” by the poet )
Deserted; you have left me
wandering alone, only my mind
to accompany my sad song.
I sing it to an audience of one;
myself.
Confused; I remain lost,
you say you love me,
yet you refuse to speak
the language of both
our hearts.
Waiting; my passion pleads
to be expressed in its fullness,
with no bounds, no limitations,
even beyond our own
expectations.
Unrequited; I will not settle
for one such as this; who fathoms less,
who is unable to measure up
to her own promises which
I once accepted as reality.
her children used to adore her
they are too far away to visit.
her dogs have deserted her
through death like her husbands
she is glad for her terrific memories
Once a thriving town now
dust devils
curl and tumble on the
broken pavement, along
with swirling leaves and
bits of paper
empty storefront windows
once FILLED with clothes,
pastries groceries sundries,
stare at the desolate scene
through shattered glass
deserted streets,
bereft
of crowds of people,
only an occasional fox,
chittering squirrel or bird
interacting with the
constant wind…..
step …
across the sill
this haunted house
walls of torn paper, dripping
crumbling plaster ceilings
hanging like rotten vines on this
bony frame
dark, broken windows, the
empty eyes that stare
once aglow with
the bright from within
life and light … and love
made a home
until …
just an ember -
one flame of your kiss -
and it was gutted
burned raw and ruined
with no thought to what filled these rooms
or graced the facades
or warmed the meager marrow …
now all phantoms
howling in the barren halls
sodden and saddened
for sake of the abandoned -
the threadbare -
dilapidated … desolate
welcome to the
vacancy …
your fool.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, May 20, 2023
( photo taken from Gary Cummins, garycphotography )
"Can you feel the soul of an abandoned house;
can you hear the whispering? "
Quote by _Constance La France
Dark atmosphere surrounds deserted home
Aeons ago filled with sound of laughter
Its soul does not linger it tends to roam
Lost and adrift, grim without its master.
Those whispering voices filled with sadness
Permeating this old desolate house
Windows-like eyes shrouded with bleak blackness
A sign erected a sale is announced.
Dismal exterior is deterrent
Cold shivers at whispers can't be denied
Soulless nature empty and abhorrent
In this place, sanity does not abide.
Deserted, abandoned empty for years
Sunshine days long gone just whispers and tears.
C Quotes -
Poetry Contest
Sponsored
by:
Constance La France
27/05/2023
dark bone-chilling wilderness chant
From horizon rising from a distant North
the summer smiled at the arcing sand dunes
in the lonely desert, echoed by a sandy splash
oasis-flowered waters from a celestial spring
Watered destiny as it grew in her youthfulness
blossoming, while fate plays her major cast
"The villain" of the drama called Life
a brief flutter in life's journey
a memorable one beckons at every step and at every stop
The miles covered are little when compared to
Mirages of success shown like dark seas.
desolation in low spaces
Fear tripling down like little mist.
humanity wandering to infinity
chaos playing the drums for a dance
sanity lost sailing into destination unknown
It was noon for Lady Amanda
And in drove a Platoon Commander:
Gerald Rutherford, full Lieutenant
Many years back her Quiet Tenant...
Now Military, still Great Manners,
As though in defence of Great Banners,
The two hoisted in front of his Jeep
And a white he chose to close keep...
Key off Jeep's Ignition box, a leap:
He's had something robbing him Good Sleep
"Yes, what's it that you want, Commander?"
"Oh, thanks, Sweet Lady! Your Miranda..."
"You didn't say: Ex - Land Lady's smile."
"Oh my God! Just begun bad file!"
A willow trembles in the breeze
And stoops in awe as angels sneeze;
Quaking feebly to its knees,
Bending, doleful, if you please.
A day, as this, when squalls blow wild
The willow cries ~ as like a child;
Deserted, sad, forlorn, beguiled,
And all aloof, left out, exiled.
Now her branches droop away
Blenching down throughout the day;
Keeping blusts of gusts at bay
Harboured from the rainy spray.
Underfoot a lonely duck
Shelters in a babbling brook,
Dabbling in a shady nook
Safe and sound, her haven took.
Then above the daylight seeps,
In the sky the sunlight peeps;
She, thankful for the faith she keeps
The trembling willow gently weeps.
Deserted by Alfred
It was not my fault I had no shoes
And the police stopped and asked and since it was none of their business
I naturally told them to get lost
was handcuffed and put in a police car, which was more cooling than
the asphalt, after all, it was October in Albufeira.
I thought this is a perfect movement when a father defends his son
but Alfred who refuses to be my father had gone home
I was left to explain this ridiculous case, but luckily the Portuguese
police force felt sorry for me and let me go.
Next day I bought a pair of sneakers in a Chinese shop and my father
who refuses to be my father was wearing my leather uppers?
THE DESERTED GRAVEYARD :
EPITAPH
Sunday afternoon mid-winter:
Here’s end of mortal charm and grace,
this hillside where briars claim the footage—
weather wears away a few remaining names.
broom-straw roots between the sunken mounds,
and long-legged brown spiders climb over field-stones.
“We are nothing more nor less than what we were.
Let the earth have what it wants.
We are dust returning to the ground.”
My feelings I store on empty shelves of shoulders that don't hold much but selfish needs. Preserved in salt to heal wounds and burn at once so to not forget the labels that have tested time, Patience and strength. Throughout time ,
I have tested waters flavored with agony's pungent seasoning knowing it's not for me nor suits my palate but I don't know yet if I'm the rancid offering or if the additives are spoiled. Tasteless, dry, almost dust like texture dashed on an unfavorable dish will always turn stomachs and noses away from edible sources. Why would one turn down a feast of delicacy for a home cooked bland ass meal. I would but that's because I know the value of blood sweat and tears not just how to lick my plate clean, snap fingers and silver set before me. .
How much longer?
I am waiting to die now
Can’t see a way forward
Don’t want to look back
I’ve finished thinking how
Had enough failure, and
Can’t cut anymore slack
Can’t see any point, man
Running on a treadmill
And getting nowhere fast
There’s nowhere left to stand
Lost the plot of the future
And I can’t change the past
I want to close my eyes forever
Just can’t see the point!
Just can’t see the point!
David Cox 22/05/21
Gloated with its existence, Lie mocked Truth one day;
Folks yearn me more, despite your heavy weigh.
You are stark naked and I am well dressed;
I have the power to tarnish whatever facts stated.
Spreading faster than you, is my identity;
You are the deserted road, where no one found serenity.
Truth smiled and uttered, I am easy to remember;
I may hurt for a while, You blemish forever.
However petty you are, but lie remains a lie;
Truth always prevails, no matter how hard you try.
The day I cried
Without reason,
Is the day which taught me a lesson.
No one could bring such pain
The pain is not because of you .
It is the pain from the words
Yes.,from the words,
Which stole my heart ,still breaking my heart
The words which you poured out once ;
Like bullets from many guns
The words which fail to obey its meaning.
There are many to get on the beam of my stories ,
And many that made it a fairytale ;
By adding amusing content to it
And you guys are the best critics .
Here cumz my very own lane,
Where I shall drive my plane with all the remorse .
With bare mind in the mid of the night
I cried a lot;
By hugging my pillow tight.
'My forged simper,
Made my life simpler'.
Time changes,
And when time changes ;
Every thing fades away.
Like the opened camphor bottle let the camphor fly away
Wet road at the mid of the day let all the moisture vanish away,
The awful ache caused by you fades away,
But the misery caused by your words;
Stands great...
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