Long First floor Poems
Long First floor Poems. Below are the most popular long First floor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long First floor poems by poem length and keyword.
Moving Into a Haunted House
By Elton Camp
It was a story the Realtor had heard before
We were looking for an old house to restore
“It has to have a basement and two floors
If it was a Victorian, we’d like that even more.”
“On a large plot of land the house has to be.
We don’t want to look out and neighbors see.
It can’t be some old relic that is falling down
But we’ll do work on the house and ground.”
The agent then tried to hide a delighted grin
“Long on the market this one place has been.
Your description made think of it right away.
Get in my car and we’ll drive out there today.”
The fine old mansion wasn’t near to any towns
The driveway twisted through neglected grounds
Through a break in the trees, we caught a sight
The place brought a mixture of fright and delight
When we found that all furnishing were included,
We made an offer and the deal was soon concluded
At closing, the Realtor one thing more did reveal
“I learned it’s haunted so you can cancel the deal.”
“Hey, I am not some ignorant, superstitious fool.
One who believes in zombie, ghost, witch or ghoul.
If any spirits are in our house as you have predicted,
They better be packing as they’re about to be evicted.”
The very first night after we moved in from the town,
We were about to go to bed, but heard a horrible sound
It was something like from a movie or a scary dream
It was frightful, as if some tortured soul did scream
The source of the disturbance was on the first floor
We crept down the stairs and heard it more and more
I wondered if we would still be alive the next morning
I reproached myself for failing to take agent’s warning
Finally to find the dark, noisy room took us several tries
I shone into it the light and saw a pair of glowing eyes
The cries came to a stop and trembling I stood still
And down my back there ran a fright-induced chill
The flashlight tumbled to the floor from my hand
I couldn’t decide if it was better that I run or stand
What happened next was, to me, almost too much
A soft form, my lower legs began to lightly touch
I felt that I could not withstand the fright any more,
But my very feet felt as they were glued to the floor
My wife switched on her flashlight and yelled “Scat.”
Down the hallway scooted a lost and frightened cat
..............I could write you
...................poetic images
...............that would make
............other women drool.
...............Speak of sunsets
...........wired, computerized
....................................to
.....................................P
...................................PU
..............................PULSE
............ ...to the rhythm of
.........your striking features
B............Build you a ladder
.............from light, that we
..............could climb to the
..............gates of euphoria.
..............Tell you that they
.............named it after you
E..........................Ecstasy.
............I could and I would
.........but I know you better
.......... ....than that. I know
.....................what you like.
.........................I can taste
..............it on my buds. You
....................want a man of
......................simple words
..................spun from truth.
A.........A man that will never
.........run out on you. A man
..............that when you hold
......................is steady and
.............rooted. I am steady
..............and rooted but also,
...........I am in love with you.
U............Not by the waterfall
.........or against the light of a
..........full moon. Not walking
...................along the beach
....................while the ocean
..............whispers in my ears.
............. I love you first thing
.......even on a dingy morning.
........................I love you on
...........evenings when it is so
.........cloudy there is not even
................one star in the sky.
........It is just dark. I love you
.........when we're on separate
.......couches reading different
.......books. When we're alone
...........or together in a crowd
.......I love you from the other
........side of the room. On the
.......first floor when you're on
....the twenty third. When you
.....have a cold and even more
........when you are sicker still.
T.....The simple truth is you're
.........stuck with me from now
.............to eternity........why?
Y.................because the best
............part about you is that
.........I know you love me too.
01~22~2015
Sponsor: Rhonda
Contest: Hidden Beauty
Craziest Time in Amphan
Forecast of cyclone Amphan alarmed us.
Doors-windows all closed oblivious.
Yet could not apprehend severity
ending in calamity.
Appeared roaring Amphan in devastating form.
Vigorous rigorous violent storm.
With tremendous thrust tempest outburst.
Cyclone blown touching two hundred kilometres speed per hour.
Simultaneous terrible heavy showers
Crowd of clouds too dense compact without any gap
Not allowing frictions perhaps
under high wind pressure to surrender
but to pour rains in opulence
threatening ambience.
No lightning flash or thunder
Outrageous uproar of cyclone in high pitch
on intermittent sonorous twitch.
Tall trees, huge massive ones encircling my premise
swinging, swaying, spinning, thrashing on one another.
Thick wooden framed glass doors of my house trembling.
Push of strong storm forced rain waters to flood my floor.
Ankle deep water collected surrounding sofa set.
Electricity was off.
We had candlelight dinner on compulsion,
not romantic but traumatic.
At midnight, all quiet on domestic front.
Yet we did not dare to open windows at night
At dawn, no storm, no rain, calm tranquil after disaster.
Most big trees are damaged, either have fallen or lost boughs, branches.
Tallest tree at gate lying slant hitting my balcony at corner, being uprooted.
One can walk on the big trunk to reach balcony at first floor.
Traffic signal Poles and lamp posts all broken.
TV not functioning, Mobile not working,
Telephone wire torn Internet gone.
Social distancing attained highest score.
Complete confinement settled us indoor.
08/16/20
Word Count 238
Third Place
' Craziest Time ' Contest by Caren krutsinger
' After The Hurricane' Contest by craig cornish
The Royal Stonestreet 42
In the house in Stavanger, Norway, where I grew up four families were living in poverty after the war in 1945, well, poverty was relative as we were able to survive without social interference
In the basement, an elderly man had two bedrooms and a kitchen he had to share every Saturday when the women were washing clothes and ironing
The elderly man was mysterious he had female visits every so often, who drank and fought when the police were called the women had to leave, but the old man was not arrested, it turned out he had been a hero no one knew why, since he was mother’s uncle she didn’t know either
On the first floor lived two families, one had only one room and shared a kitchen with a family that had two rooms, but no one had a bathroom there was a toilet on their landing that was for the whole house, and filthy dirty on the second floor a woman called Sunway lived with her two sons she shared a kitchen with us who had two rooms when Sunway had male visitors, her sons had to sit in the hallway, not that her guests stayed long, but the hallway was a bit cold on winter days, but they were always well-dressed and polite
The father of the youngest son was a German soldier, he believed his mother drank coffee and talked to her friend the door was looked at as they didn’t like to be disturbed by children running around, and the oldest son wore a smirk like he knew what was going on
When a rumor circulated that Sunway was a prostitute, my mother who at the time worked at a fish factory, defended her, the woman had
no income and had to look after her sons Sunway eventually got a bigger flat with two bedrooms for her two boys, the youngest one went to university and did well, and the oldest one didn't work lived with his mother, but was arrested for raping his mother and beating her was sent to prison.
I wonder why it is when time was hard some survived intact while others became a burden to themselves and drowned in shame.
I.
they say
there exist languages without words
without syllables yet pronounced,
like the sharp clatter of fork and spoon and knife against each other
at dinners in our family.
a vase shattered to the floor last night
at an hour way past our bedtime.
sister and i know that only one room in the house is embellished with a vase
on the first floor with a vase
of red roses—
ravishing over the edge;
laden with sinister thorns under—
but we’re vigilant not to cast a glance at mom or dad.
just stare down at your food
and gulp down the curry of guilt and fright.
a vase shattered but we choose not to clean the floor.
the broken fragments of glass aren’t ours to sort.
instead, we slice the whetted tension with the clatter
of fork and spoon and knife.
II.
there exist languages without words
without alphabets yet comprehensible,
like the silence we were doused in
at dinner two weeks after granny vacated the premises
of the little room on the ground floor with baby pink walls and a turmeric aroma.
no clatter this time.
from my peripheral vision, i espy a tear trickle down mom’s cheek.
we sham it’s a raindrop lingering on her visage from the doleful stroll she took an hour back.
sister and i look at each other every time the spoon visits our mouths.
with furrowed eyebrows,
we gulp down the curry of remorse and despair.
dad’s eyes glare into zilch lifelessly
like granny’s face lying on the soft pillow in her turmeric room
before i had to ring up mom and break the news in words
after which words evaporated;
gulped down, refrained, pushed away.
bite in your tears because unlike the sky,
we were taught to sway our storms.
III.
in our household
there are no syllables, no alphabets, no words.
they say there exist languages without words
and ours is silence.
we could scream or lament or weep.
but instead, we gulp it down
in silence.
Poet,anjali denandi,mom
…………………………………………..
My successs
i do not know many words.
i did not win many awards.
yet, i am a poet;
i create and create.........
yes, i donate and donate.........
i never earn.
oh ! don't think it, fun !
yes, i have many fans;
but i can not talk with them !
because my speaking -powers are weak !
oh ! the humans !
forgive me !
do you know my name ?
yes, ANJALI DENANDI,MOM;
Do you seek me ?
don't seek !
yes, i lam living in new delhi,now;yes.
please ! come on !
if you love my creation,
then you( must) shall meet with me;
i know it .
i know,
you love me,
with your every heart-beat;
am i right ?
oh ! my every fan ! oh !oh!oh!.....................
you like my poems, it is my good-luck;yes.
welcome ,in my address !
yes,yes,yes.............
you are my success.
save
poet, ANJALI DENANDI,MOM
A VERY OLD BUILDING;
SOME CHILDREN WERE READING,THERE;
IT WAS THE FIRST FLOOR.
SOME PEOPLE WERE ON THE GROUND FLOOR,ALSO.
THE AGE OF THE BUILDING WAS 300 YEARS.
I WAS IN THAT BUILDING,
WHICH WAS SIDE OF IT.
SUDDENLY, I HEARD,A HIGH SOUND.
WHAT WAS THE MATTER ?
I COULD NOT UNDERSTOOD ! ?....
MY MOTHER PULLED ME ,THEN,
WE REACHED FAR FROM OUR HOUSE.
AFTER SOME MINUTES,
WE HEARD THAT,
ALL PEOPLE WERE CRYING;
THE BUILDING WAS BREAKING DOWN.
DUST AND DUST, COVERED, THE PLACE.
NOTHING WAS SEEN.
AFTER SOME MINUTES STOPED THE BREAKING.
ALL WERE RUNNING TOWARDS THE BUILDING.
ALL WERE CRYING.
WERE THE PEOPLE OF THE BUILDING, DIED ? !
WHO WERE STAYED IN THE BUILDING.
BUT ALL WATCHED THAT,
ONLY THOSE PARTS WERE STILL THEN ALSO;
AND THE WHOLE BUILDING WAS DESTROYED.
WHERE THE PEOPLE WERE STAYED.
ALL SAVED THEM,THEN.
THEY CAME OUT FROM THAT BREAKING-BUILDING.
AND ALL SAID,
"WE WERE SAVED BY THE BLESSING OF ALMIGHTY !
THANKS ! OH ! OUR GOOD-LUCKS !"
To diary:
Mama, by now, I suspect you are on my trail
to Phoenix, however I do think you figured
it all out-the red herrings... and are instead
on the right path to Seattle. A part me wants
to challenge you. As much as you are in
pursuit of me, I am in pursuit of reading
about Evelyn Lau, teenage runaway and poet...
for the second time.
To diary:
I Got tree sap, aka hotel front desk worker,
for another blanket. It's too easy, mama. Watch."Ma'am,
my mother in room 101 request a blanket and pillow,"
and like clockwork she gave it to me, then I pause,
"ma'am can we also get some toothbrushes and toothpaste"
and like clockwork she gave it to me. What a tree sap.
Although this time our eyes met and I think she's onto
me. But that didn't stop me from taking a green apple
and newspaper. mama, let me tell you these come in
handy... let me tell you... oh, oh i just figured it
out, the lobby's the first floor there can't be a room
101. She's playing me. What else is new.
Today I went to the library
sitting at a nook
quite contrary
reading a book
the staff was cold as ice
i say screw the kiddie section
my answer not so nice
why is this the wrong direction
it's hard being eleven
where their prying eyes
on me being adult smart
they try to befriend and spy
the books I read
the information I consort
the knowledge I feed
the ideologies I support
baby girl plays the sham
changing the Lau book
with green eggs and ham
and returning their looks
this is all too irony
sleeping on the streets
dealing with their tyranny
and trying to be upbeat
I pass these books and nooks
I say She who forges her own path
being mistook
wields her own fate
with upending wrath
to being one of the greats
Paris Pachecho
connie pachecho
12/30/16
Dear Franklin St. Four,
We have not met
but, no,
I'm not hoping to take money
or assets
away from you.
Quite the contrary.
Your rental building,
with four residential second and third floor units
above a first floor store front
is for sale--
and the seller knows nothing about this communication.
You could buy your building together
for no more
than your current rents--
probably somewhat less.
I'm hoping you will decide to buy your homes together
and repurpose your shared first floor space
for a Cooperative Dreamers Cafe
with child care during the day
and after-EcoSchool interns
for healthy cooperative evening recreation,
skill-sharing,
writing and song and dance,
ecotherapy repair and design and entertainment projects,
permaculturally designed
to share in this
your cooperative ZeroZone CoHousing Cafe.
Why would I care?
What's in this for me?
I am a retired Permaculture Designer
recently relocated to Norwich
and certified to mentor Green STEM projects.
I'm looking for ways I can help,
especially in your town center area
and especially now that I don't need to charge fees
for facilitation
of cooperatively-owned health and nutrition integrity projects.
So, if you are interested,
I would recommend
reading Permaculture Opera,
which will tell you far more
than you might truly care to know
about my family and me
and our therapeutic journey into this great transitional day
and cooperative-growing time.
If you buy it
on amazon.com
then my royalty share
will help support this project
should you all four choose
to move cooperatively forward.
But, I can also loan you a copy
or you can read all in it
and far more
for free
at www.gdill52.com.
With springtime hope
and resonant regard,
Gerald 0-Liver, PDC, MPA, MDiv
I am a silent viewer
My hobby view of beauties
And keep secure in my heart
To make a unique art
I make view for inspiration
For the sake of my unique vision
I never make touch
I just need fragrance
And fresh breathe
Which make me alive
For new vision
For new inspiration
How I can stop on one
Every on have heavenly touch
Everyone feel me like holy Ganga
Everyone goddess
Everyone can make I am a silent viewer
My hobby view of beauties
And keep secure in my heart
To make a unique art
I make view for inspiration
For the sake of my unique vision
I never make touch
I just need fragrance
And fresh breathe
Which make me alive
For new vision
For new inspiration
How I can stop on one
Every on have heavenly touch
Everyone feel me like holy Ganga
Everyone goddess
Everyone can make bright fortune
Poet- anurag sharma
DG-1 flat no 27 B first floor
Vikas puri new delhi-110018
Email- draditiadi@rediffmail.com
Mobile no-8743082486
I am a silent viewer
My hobby view of beauties
And keep secure in my heart
To make a unique art
I make view for inspiration
For the sake of my unique vision
I never make touch
I just need fragrance
And fresh breathe
Which make me alive
For new vision
For new inspiration
How I can stop on one
Every on have heavenly touch
Everyone feel me like holy Ganga
Everyone goddess
Everyone can make bright fortune
Poet- anurag sharma
DG-1 flat no 27 B first floor
Vikas puri new delhi-110018
Email- draditiadi@rediffmail.com
Mobile no-8743082486
Poet- anurag sharma
DG-1 flat no 27 B first floor
Vikas puri new delhi-110018
Email- draditiadi@rediffmail.com
Mobile no-8743082486
"Police claimed that because most of the body had been skeletonized, no resuscitation attempt was performed." Quoted from an article on the internet.
They said from the clothes he wore that he was a male
Really in the year 2022, one cannot tell from a person's dress
Nor what might happen if you pronounce a sex
Coroner look closely again at skeleton left
The body was found by someone doing a YouTube report
He was going around exploring and filming abandoned building
He had to climb a ladder to enter this building that had been a church, but
All boarded up for so long, therefore entrance on the first floor to the church~
Impossible
The second floor was living quarters where the deceased was discovered
It had been ten years plus since the church was an active, ongoing fellowship
So much can happen in ten years plus
A live human being can become skeletonized
I wonder who he was, did his family want to learn what had happened
Were they missing him and desiring his return
Will they ever learn the fate of their loved one who had gone missing
Is there enough material to do a DNA sample?
Did his loved one's life go on just like before or
Has their life been suspended in time waiting
Waiting, waiting, waiting, watching, waiting, longing, crying or
Glad that the person has gone on somewhere else
Matthew 25: 13. Therefore, be on the alert [be prepared and ready], for you do not know the day nor the hour [when the Son of Man will come]. Amplified Bible ( This does not refer to our time of death, but it made me think about how we don't know.)
Date Written: 8/23/2022
Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 13
Sponsor: Mark Toney