Front Room Poems | Examples

An elegy for innocence

Historically the books are written by a well-known writer 

The characters are formed to choose the sense of flight or fighter 

The library of the mind stows away the facts from the fiction 

The sequence of events unfold, memorised with restriction 

 

The nature of the story, can cause the mind to cry 

The loss of peaceful innocence in those days gone by   

 

The imagery of barricades in a crowded stark front room 

Foreboding silence and tension create a sense of doom 

In the old terraced house, there’s a closure of ranks  

As the fighter steps forward and the other flanks 

 

The pushing and shoving in the silent stark room 

The circle decreases and a flash warps the plume 

The memories jagged as they cut like a knife 

As she’s hit by the boxer and fights for her life    

 

The dry autumnal street carpets red and gold 

The crunch of the leaves cushioned the blow 

The flash of the memory vivid and sharp 

Innocence held with such disregard 

 

The nature of the story, can cause the mind to cry  

The loss of peaceful innocence in those days gone by

A Tale To Tell

An old stone cottage stands on the seafront
Abandoned and alone
Windows covered in sea salt and cobwebs
Its history and story unknown

A small white cottage with good bones
That has weathered many a storm
Now unloved and neglected 
Still stands steadfast ,proud, yet sadly forlorn

A large stone fireplace graces the front room
Blackened by the years that have withstood the test of time
Giving warmth and comfort to many a soul
Comfort so sublime

I wonder who resided here
Was it a happy home
Was it alive , full of love and laughter
Or harbouring sadness and secrets unknown

I would love to sit inside this cottage
Light the fire and share a cup of tea
So the cottage could tell me its story
Of life as it used to be

A story perhaps of long lost secrets
One of intrigue and mystery
Or maybe just a simple tale
Of a loving family

In appreciation and gratitude for story told
A cuddle it would be
I would visit time and again for the warmth of its fire
And to share another cup of tea!

Five Years after the Last Flagging Assignment

The dryer hums,
and my clothes are drying.
It rained earlier, but now
the sun is peering through clouds.
As I awaken, the morning is still.
I sit at a table in the front room
and it creaks.
When sifting through my poetic lines
I remember that each day
begins with a whisper.
I remember that around each turn
in the highway lies a surprise.
My thoughts turn to my days as a flagger
as if it is a previous life.
I remember
when there was one lane road
I turned my sign to control
the flow of traffic.
Some people I stopped
waved and smiled,
but in time I learned how
to let them go.
Each evening after work
I’d write a poem
and the librarian at the front desk
was a confidant, a friend.
They’d always offer praise
of how I could make a page come alive
while my fingers danced over the keys.
But now the quiet side street 
in front of the house is broken.
I’ve called Public Works
but some things never change.
Now I’m back home
and learning to live again.
As a bird flies past my window 
I think I’ll heat some leftovers
and go for a drive.

Your Name

It has you walking home
from school, past that house
where the front room curtains
moved yet revealed no face behind
only the trace of a shadow
stepping back into your mind -
the sound of footsteps that followed
and stopped when your feet
froze to the ground and,
on looking around, no-one
was there 

and now,
stepping through time,
that dull echo on empty streets
late at night when far from home
and sleep, you get
a sense that someone
is still following, 
so near now
you can almost hear
those icy lips whispering 
your name.

Honeymoon Planned

She’s the girl of my dreams
The darling of my life
Very soon to be 
My lawful wedded wife.
I want to offer her my everything
Lay the whole world at her feet
Want out honeymoon to be 
Such a very special treat.
I opened the world map
just for planning to start 
For her to choose our destination
By throwing of a dart
Though my plan was flawed
I’m a man of my word.
We’re spending our honeymoon
By the front room skirting board

The Reality of a Fantasy Rain

The Reality of A Fantasy Rain
David J Walker

Remembered in the 
Paint by number dreams the

Fantasy rain  
Seems to be falling 
following 

calling me by faith 
to the 
front room 	
picture window

coaxing me to the back porch 
hoping
	to observe lightning 
and listening for
	Thor’s rolling thunder

His hand on the hammer 
His hammer strikes the anvil 

A stammer of sparks 
Scattering across 

The far horizon 
	Spreading new stars
In a darkened universe 

But the reality of the 
Quiet dryness and

	A warm summer breeze
Challenges Thor 
In battle

A war he cannot win

The crops cry for relief 
From a dry August day

Pride of Place - My Mother's Piano

Pride of Place - My Mother's Piano

My mother’s hands on ivory keys wove enchanted runes
Then flew across the keyboard in musical monsoons
Notes of black and white in song serenades communed
She coaxed the claviature to plaintive and musical cartoons.

Eighty-eight keys remember days of Claire de Lune,
Sonatas lyrical shimmers recall enchantments of the moon,
Bewitching notes that bloomed in l’apres midi afternoons
Reminisce now that her treasured piano graces my front room.

2-7-22
Contest: Pride of Place
Sponsor: Julie Ward

Past Times 8

RITES OF PASSAGE
Each Christmas we all gathered there,
‘Aunt Clare, has more room ,after all’ with
her trestled tables and chair.
Grown-ups swigging their brown bottled ale,
young-uns, lemonade with paper straw,
VE style parties, once more.
Lunch over, the voice decibels rose,
raucus laughter oiled by the beer
brought forth more plates of festive cheer.
Cards slid noiselessly over the American
cloth, copper coins switching from pot to pot,
enthralled children watching on, ‘til
banished with a special treat, to the cold
stairs, or now bare front room, or to play
out in the deserted  twilight street.
Every year the ritual was much the same,
a  family ‘bring and share’ , long before
 such gatherings were given this name

The Anticipation of Snow

The Anticipation of Snow
David J Walker

No matter how old I grow 
The anticipation of snow
Beckons the memories of my feet
Deep in rubber boots 
We called galoshes 
Stepping into a virgin white
World of crisp cold 
The crunching sound of 
Crushing snow to the ground 
Below leaving the footprints of tread
Evidence of boys and girls 
In a playground world of winter
The picture window in the front room
Framed the storm from the warmness of
Our house where falling snow is quietly accepted 
Its joy is in the arrival 
Its secrets in the style of survival
The bitterness excepted
And the face of each snowflake a 
Fingertip printed in the icy touch of winter
No matter how much may fall
You cannot count them all
Banked by the snowplows at night

Bad-Year Obituary

Well the Will of twenty twenty
Did not favour its kids gently.
Was the smirk in in that jerk's dying breath a gest left to make us unfriendly?
Or did it point at his suffocators, through pillows of plastic-made plenty?

Forget that loud death - there's quiet hordes
Bricked under this scene in front-room wards
Trapped, trialed, trickling up - put down by the order of the Always Of Lords
The mines that bind those poor prole's souls, extracting human oil like whale-ships boards.

Two and two's evils struck many by surprise
Some felt for necks, asked what's next, tried to open eyes
Saw cruelty crawl from Antique times, muffled in masks, found ways to rise
Saw profiteers who murdered years, bombs built below the pier in snake-sweat and lies

At the wake we'll say they died a crap uncle, and showed us good and sad.
The instant that first twenty waltzed in, it proclaimed itself to be mad.

Virus

Virus

No dining no cinema no going out
No football or festivals
No getting about

No meeting a colleague no hugging a friend
No pubs no clubs gatherings
When will we see the end?

This virus has us locked inside
Us over seventies
All have to hide

But its not all gloom it wont last forever
Being kept apart
Has brought us all together

We are Zooming and Skyping like never before
The community spirit
Is just like in the war

There have been front room festivals
And internet plays
Happy reminders of better days

So we wont give up we’ll stay in lock down
Until this damn virus
Is no longer around

If we believe in our hearts it wont be long
We will beat this pandemic
And see it gone

So lets drink a toast to the NHS crew
And to postmen and drivers
Who bring deliveries to you

To bus drivers and policemen and firemen too
Who all risk their lives 
For me and for you

So lets all stand firm and never give in
Then the war on this virus
We will surely win

I know we can beat it if we stay strong
And we will see the day 
When forever its gone

I'M Thrilled

I'm thrilled to hear that you got 3 month inside. You did bird. Do you know how happy I am? I want to shout from the highest steeple and jump with joy. You did 7+ years of crime: drug dealing, smoking weed, assault with a bb gun, smashing your mum's house up, nearly killing her and more. 

That was the worst, shoving your mum's head into the sink. Concussion could of killed her. You dropped out of school so have no grades. Maybe if you kill someone, you can study inside? 

I think your next crime is murder. But who? Yourself? Not saying my views. Tho 1 less chav will be here, a reign of terror over. You used to take your mum's cash and spend it on drugs. Then hit her when there's no heating. 

You made the front room your bedroom, ruled her life with terror. Was told, 'If you lived in a different city, you would be in jail now." That took a while in coming but finally happened. I'm thrilled.

Forties Christmas

CHRISTMAS PAST
Each Christmas we all gathered there,
‘Aunt Clare, has more room ,after all’ with
her trestled tables and chair.
Grown-ups swigging their brown bottled ale,
young-uns, lemonade with paper straw,
VE style parties, once more.
Lunch over, the voice decibels rose,
raucus laughter oiled by the beer
brought forth more plates of festive cheer.
Cards slid noiselessly over the American
cloth, copper coins switching from pot to pot,
enthralled children watching on, ‘til
banished with a special treat, to the cold
stairs, or now bare front room, or to play
out in the deserted  twilight street.
Every year the ritual was much the same,
a  family ‘bring and share’ , long before
 such gatherings were given this name

Stuck In a Christmas Snow Globe Not For Contest

I’m a beautiful angel like you’ll see on a tree
My snow globe plays a carol it is so Christmasy

I’m trapped in this snow globe, I want to get out
I bang on the casing and I scream and I shout

Bobby picks the globe and he shakes it so hard
so the snow swirls inside like it does in the yard

He then casts me aside leaving me on the table
and the kitten stares at me, she is called Mable

Mable bats me around and I crash to the floor
she’s found a new toy, and bats me with her paw

My snow globe home slides across the front room
Then the father treads on it and seals my doom

The snow globe is smashed, water leaks everywhere
And all the snow’s disappeared, oh it just isn’t fair

Bobby’s mother says she’s got a clever idea
I’ll take pride of place on her cake every year


Written for contest .... then I discovered Bobby wanted Free verse!

11/22/19

Just a Mo

I don’t want to walk to the front room
Can I have my dinner on a tray?
I wept inside for he could hardly eat
So thin I thought his backbone might well break
I’ll get you a small table, honeybun
Just a mo, I’ll put the oven on
I want a steak ,he called another day
If he could eat it I would be God’s prey
I can’t  chew it, pet, my stomach’s full
The fluid from the blood, I knew it well
The valve is furred, his blood is being pushed back
Fills his inner organs  swells and racks
I was almost paralysed and stunned
Putting him to bed  was  quite a  pun
Then he woke up from a little sleep
Spoke to me  in words so clear and sweet
You have a personality so bright,
The sun must envy you  your brilliant light
After that he scarcely used his words
We did not need to speak, it wa

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