Country House Poems | Examples
These Country House poems are examples of House poems about Country. These are the best examples of House Country poems written by international poets.
[ Should I write it? ]
If I.N.S. is going to:
kidnap, drug and deposit me on the wrong side of the Mexican border, I might get serious about the value of verbal persuasions!!!
I'm not of Mexican heritage but my "Hispanic" ("American" Caribbean-Indigenous) tanning might be enough for the inbred Southern bing-bang neanderthal spoon-challenged cretins they're hiring and I end up in God's country - ( CHOCOLATE - COFFEE - COCAINE . . . ? - ¿ NOT PUNISHMENT)¡!¡
.
Thank the Lord..' Katters on the job.' Father of the house..
And solar housing systems..This legend is worth every bob'
A straight talking hero.' Who has his country at heart.'
Who will stand; with with his no-nonsense manner.'
It's time; and well past..Get to the line, be ready to start.!
Nice house by the river
Arrayed with colorful flowers
Side by side on a sandy path
Adorn the passerby with glee
At the side is the flowing river
Where standing trees serve as safeguard
Not to erode the soil for outcast
Above sees the azure sky reflecting warm day
At the right side is the green meadow for cattle
Who freely eat the young grass undisturbed
Oh, what a rural beauty it would be to live
The country side where all nature lovers love
The fresh air enveloping the area pretty welcoming
How could anyone exchange this beauty to anything
Whose mind and soul are entwine to nature's call to home.
I walked in to the four bed rooms, four baths
of my daughter’s house with big living room,
dining room, washing room, back and front yards,
master bedroom with bath and walk-in closets.
Painted with rustic color of gray, in medium tone
outside and light tone inside, the color motif of the
interior design showing on the wall pictures and on
the vases with different synthetic plants and flowers.
Although they do not emanate floral or sweet scent,
the orchid plant utterly exhibits an illusion of blossom.
The backyard landscaping the previous owner had
done is stunning, quite lush with safe walkways.
A modern landscape or timeless landscape with the
feel of stillness and the view of the glorious sunset.
My pondering in silence was abruptly cut off by the
sound of the automatic sprinkler’s swirling water.
A dream house next to the beach,
facing the calm or the wild sea.
A dream house in the mountains,
facing the forest and the country roads.
A dream house with someone
to share our time with,
it leaves many memories in our life.
A dream house with emptiness,
is a palace made of stones,
and cold in our bones.
A mansion, dreamt by the most,
on the hill or the shore
in West Hollywwood
where rich people cry tears many times.
Maybe a house in the West side of the Bronx,
where people fight among ethnicities.
A house can be our home,
our safety, our privacy,
our sharing, our everything.
A house should mean protection
and family safe.
A dream house is nothing
but a prison when you are alone.
I walked into my closet last week
dressed in naught but socks and underwear
I bent over to pick up my boots
surprise-- a furry creature was there
So I yelped and jumped back a few steps
I’ll say he nearly scared me to death
I flung my right work boot at him
after I had finally caught my breath
Well I missed him by a country mile
and he quickly scampered out the door
That’s when I took aim with my left boot
it thumped and skidded across the floor
I chased it round and round the kitchen
by now I’d armed myself with a broom
I swiped at it Wayne Gretsky style
sent it flying into the dining room
By now the dog had joined in the chase
we were set to show this mouse his tomb
When he ran into my wife’s office
while she was in a meeting on Zoom
Somehow I managed a screeching halt
No view of my boxers or the mouse
But my angry wife has banished me
from playing mouse hockey in the house
As for the mouse I have not a clue
just where he disappeared to that day
I hope he went home and told his kids
It’s too crazy here for them to stay
In Nigeria demands some guilt
You’d lived and never a house built;
More forgivable one did strive
But at last could not a car drive.
You have to God leave out of this:
You know among your friends what you miss.
In my country we keep flashing guilt
For huts we’d planned but had not built
Day by day in the mirror wilt,
When dead turns faster into silt…
Mansion ensures one’s names don’t wilt:
Keep living after you’d turned dust…
So, for a house, not women lust.
You let the quest grow into Must’
And it cause to explode like Gust!
Jorn Utzon received the Pritzker Architecture Prize for his masterpiece
Sydney Opera House is famous the world over, maybe in space too
Her shells are recognizable by millions, even I, who have never been
fabulous place opened in 1973, she hosts visitors from every country
Her performing arts center houses LePetit Ballet, Opera Australia,
There are recording studios, retail shops, cafes, restaurants, pubs
Utzon was one of thirty-two architects to submit a design.
In Kansas City, Missouri, we have created a tiny replica of this beauty.
I was walking in the streets in the country
Flagging down for any car
I was out of breath because I walked too far
A woman in a jeep stopped for me
I told her I want to call ol Jeffery
I am without my phone and car keys
I was glad when ol Jeffery answered me
I felt like I was losing my hair
however, he was there
I walked home worry free
Knowing he will be back for me
I am living in my dream house.
A farm house in the country.
Where my dogs and cat can roam.
We have fox, deer, opossum, and raccoons.
Not inside, of course, but they make themselves known.
Surrounded by walnuts, oaks, elms, and apple trees.
My yard is alive with lilacs, crepe myrtles, and hydrangea in summer.
My grandchildren live close enough to visit, and they do.
I have an art studio in the garage, so I have privacy.
I love the solitude, this is my sanctuary.
It is like a lodge; every room is comfortable.
We have eliminated everything we did not love.
Each features my paintings in neons.
My bedroom has a black light, so we glow in the dark.
The best part of my house is my husband.
He said he was going to marry me when he was six. And he did.
Premiered at Evelyn’s Kitchen,
King of Prussia, PA – 3/27/2010
ACT 1
Spanish Town, Jamaica
Foundation
If I Were a Tree
Ritual
Honey Be Mine
American Gothic
On a Day like This
Hotcakes on the Table
Country Music
ACT 2
Birthday Wish
Tango Innuendo
Bienvenue
Madam Ambiguity
La Fornarina
ACT 3
Fire Drill
Let Me Take You Home
Do It All Again
One Heartache Away
A Little Like the Rain
X Rated Handshake
Ballet
Jesus Christ shall restore that which was lost and was take
Away from me. He shall restore my inspirational gift of
Poetry! Which He has freely bestowed upon me!
Jesus Christ shall never leave nor forsake me!
No He shall never abandon me!
Thus all of my poetry is being copied by heavenly angels!
These heavenly recording angels are God's very own
Heavenly scribes! Jesus Christ will wipe all of my
Tear drops from my eyes! No more tears of heart ache
Shall I cry! When I am in my heavenly promise land!
All of my heart breaks and all of my pain shall be
Forever taken far far far away from me! All of
My sins and all of my inequities shall be forever
Taken far far far away from me! Never to be
Remembered any more!
And I shall dwell in the House of the Lord
Forever! He shall be my God and I will be
His beloved and faithful daughter and child!
What wonderful blessings are in store for me!
All because of the Son of Man from Galilee!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
September 05, 2021
Making a list!
What,I lost It?
Rewrite, "Things to Do."
Check each item off.
It's your map to sanity.
What's this shoe doing here?
Oh, I forgot this metallic purse,
Hiding under a chair?
Earrings hiding behind a book.
Now, it's a treasure hunt.
Wow~a sapphire- colored guitar.
Once played, on a summer night,
Easy to get lost, in these treasures.
A little toddlers table?
Yes with soldiers abandoned
So long ago!
I greet them all....hello!
Your big stuffed dog, cries for you.
These things are not junk
My house, my country.
Getting organized, a joy.
A Grandma and her grown boy.
Panagiota Romios
5.29.2021
5/30/2021
I was an army-brat town boy
of ten when we moved to the country.
I recall arriving in a village
called Cold Springs.
My dad purchased
a century-old house
with five and a half acres of farmland.
But it had no running water,
no bathroom, and no furnace.
An outhouse was
attached to a barn
some distance from the house.
And a rusty outside pump
was our only means of water.
For heat, it had a pot-bellied iron stove;
that we had to feed all day and all night.
It felt spooky and haunted.
At first, I hated it!
At night, I'd hear groans and squeaks
that invaded my dreams.
But Dad dug a well, painted the outsides,
had copper plumbing installed, put in a septic tank,
built a bathroom, and added a furnace,
turning that house into a home, I've learned to love.
In Port Huron a banker’s family lived in the prettiest house in town
Painted lady, proud of her colors, she peered at other houses around.
None had her pizzazz, her beauty, her sleek lines or her style.
Many came to peer at her, from many a country mile.
She was puffed up, pleased, and pompous, this painted lady true.
She was confident and joyous, and she took care of the family too.
Her kitchen was the most modern, there was an ice box large.
She took her responsibilities gladly, she had one pretty young charge.
His name was William and he was scared of his closet, crying in the night.
So she shorted the electricity, so he could always have a light.
You see this lady’s wood came from the oak trees of the forest of Mt. Air.
Her ancestors had always taken care of squirrels with particular care.
Many other kinds of families have lived in Painted Lady to date.
She has her favorites sure, but she takes care of each with care that’s great.
She takes a special interest in the children of each family.
And makes sure the light is on, even if it’s just the TV.