Long Lifehouse Poems
Long Lifehouse Poems. Below are the most popular long Lifehouse by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lifehouse poems by poem length and keyword.
I live in a house where
all the doors are closed
they hide away the secrets
that can’t ever be told.
I live behind these doors
hidden away, no one knows
what goes on within my head;
or the monsters the closet stows.
One by one, the lights go out,
but the darkness cannot hide
I walk past closed doors
that monsters hide behind.
They shriek at the door,
it shakes in the frame
fumbling with the handle
wondering how they became
the ghost that moans
and the monster that leers,
trapped behind the doors
to cover up our fears.
Their hands reach out
in that space underneath
clawed hands, fumbling,
hear them gnash their teeth.
I look down in the dark
the closed doors line the hall
wonder how we’ve become
the secrets, the lies, the fall.
And these day dreams fill my head
though the hour reads late
I walk light so no one awakes
Aeolus knocks at the gate.
But, others hear what they wish
so even if I were to scream
they’d only hear everything else
thinking it a bad dream.
For we are masters of pretending
spending our lives shutting doors
hiding away our secrets too big
to fit in dresser drawers.
I can’t sleep with all their howling
so I’m left to wander alone the hallway
and pray I do not fall victim.
But old locks and frames so easily betray
me to the monster who is persistent
and the doors they all crumble.
Unleashed I must face what lies beyond
the madness that they mumble.
I cannot hide from their truths
the grotesque and the beauty.
We’ve made monsters of our secrets
and they hold us to this cruelty.
Forced to hide behind locks
I live in this house suppressed by sadness
victim to their bite, I suffer secret’s sorrow
only to end up contemplating madness.
>>>>>>>>God is the mass all of the ass , and the build up of everything around us.
He is the wind and the waves.
The razor that shaves, he is the door knob to your door.
He is the pinesol on the floor.
He is the buzzards on the road that get in your ways.
He is the ugly and pretty, good and bad.
He gets and has gotten had.
He brings a smile to your face and a tear to your eye.
He is the chicken that you bake or the chicken that you fry.
He is the sand and the beaches.
The grapes and the peaches.
Yes!
He is the slugs and the leaches.
From the white house to the crack house that is he yet again.
From the man at the store ringing the bell, to the man on the corner preaching about hell.
He is the sweet and sour skittles.
The dark and white chocolate.
From aids to cancer he is the cure and the answer.
He is the daily destractions.
He is the chemical reactions.
He is the government around us.
He is the friends that surround us.
He is at work and at play.
He is there when you go and there when you stay.
When you hear children's laughter that is he yet again.
He is the white in the snow.
He is the growth in your body from your head to your toe.
He is earth and gravity from dirt to core.
I could keep going and going and give you lots more.
You know who he is.
Judy Lynn Hawkins
The monster of a gate commanded my attention
Heavy,wrought iron, ornate. A definite unquestionable boundary
It guided to a beautifully shaped pool
My gaze traveled to the house, three full stories
I imagined large rooms, the kind that could welcome a 10 foot
Christmas tree and both sides of the family.
Large shuttered windows strategically placed, it was a beauty.
This house had lived
Mommas had worn the floor rocking their babies
Cowboys had blown out birthday candles
And princesses had danced on their daddy’s shoes
How many paths had been paced waiting for that
Precious one to cross the threshold
How many goodnight kisses had been stolen before they crossed
Stockings had been hung, eggs had been hunted
Mother’s and Father’s Day presents glued and colored
And heads bowed before supper
The welcoming porch hugged and the perimeter of the front
Large wicker chairs with plumped pillows on either side of the open
Window while the curtain blew in the breeze
How many glasses of lemonade on hot afternoons, hands raised as
Neighbors passed, and bowls of homemade ice cream after church
What color had the house been, it was now hard to say
Not enough paint left to peel. The shutters hung crooked and the
Thousands of footsteps had worn the porch thin while small
Houses ate it’s yard
The big gate guarded a stained, empty swimming pool
And the ghost of giggles from days gone by
The running man is drenched in sweat
as she flies by in her Corvette,
the music's loud, the bass turned high,
he feels the thrum as she flies by.
He winces at her green Corvette,
she reaches for a cigarette,
he slows his pace down to a walk,
she reaches for her phone to talk.
When he gets home he eats some fruit,
she figures what she eats is moot,
she wants to die both strong and bold,
he hopes and prays that he'll grow old.
He scrimps and saves most every dime,
she splurged and found it most sublime,
in to his work, his life he hurled,
she danced on tip-toes 'round the world.
They both grew old, as it turns out,
she still dances, he has gout,
her home is filled with little treasures,
his house is stark, each foot step measured.
Each treasure brings a memory
of trips she took by land and sea,
his house is plain, with bare wood planks,
but he's got money in the bank.
She takes in strays, both dogs and cats,
he takes his pants in, losing fat,
she feeds the lake fish, feeds the birds,
he finds talking a waste of words.
She dies laughing, bells on her toes,
never caring about money woes,
he enters a fine nursing home,
and there he withers, all alone.
Empty coral sheets
Fragrant into absence
Of a stillness warming fonder
And the essence of her...
Lingers longer and longer
My beach house girl
Always breaks away before the dawn
But, ocean breezes seem to whisper back
Her nightgown trails
Are spilling carelessly across the lawn
Silhouettes seeping through the sea grass
Backdrops into a breathless angel young
Sea gulls swooning about her ebony statue
As morning waves crashing out sultry song
As I near unto her
The once thought nakedness disappears…
Into sun rises between her legs
Underneath to the painting up, upon her dress
And strawberry creams ignite
Into angelic tresses of halo flare
My beach house baby barefoot
Toes curling up within the powder sands
And I hide among the dunes and gaze…
Upon her curves of splendor from where I stand
She is my Earth born organic goddess
From her head, deep down unto her soul
Then my glimpses catch those azure eyes
Unto moments where two shore line lovers stroll
My beach house girl
And her deep baby blues
Melting captivation unto my senses
As she swallows me up, along with the instance
Of this summer's glorious afternoon
He remembers their first time, in the evening chill
near to the cornfield behind the house on the hill.
Where the old folks live who are lost behind its door
and don’t know where, or who they are any more.
He visits her most days, she often doesn’t know who he is
at the house on the hill, where she now needs to live.
Sometimes she looks at him with a certain look in her eye
and he knows that look and he tries hard not to cry.
He wonders if somewhere behind those troubled eyes
the woman he loved so much somehow still survives.
And just occasionally in a moment of lucid thought
she remembers the times when her life was less fraught.
The time they were young lovers, passionate and free
and so happy to be married in the spring of fifty three.
The children they raised and all their cute little ways
and the sounds of Sinatra and Minnelli, on the airwaves.
He sits in his chair gazing through the window each night
up to the house on the hill, until the last moment of light.
Wondering if she looks down at the place she called home
and if she really knows he still lives there, all alone.
Yesterday...
as I was listening to radio...
I heard song play...again...
as it still lingers in my mind...
the song.. you gave to me..
and the words that you had said..
unto me..
song.. by Lifehouse..
"You are Beautiful"
as memo.. of past time
how you made me feel..
on top of the world..
heart skip a beat... and still..
now as I wonder today...
words.. of truth beholds..
"You and Me"
song.. plays..
as Love within
beholding Still...
for as I see..
I want you to know...
God made you..
Radiant.. Heart a glow
to Shine for Him...
for all to come to know
His Divine Love..
Through your ways of words
Through your heart light shines
I pray you come back..
for tis.. as you are Sublime..
whereever you are???
Whatever tis worth..
You know who you are...
as I still say.. and know..
"You are More"
as words ever so speak..
song by lifehouse..
for God made you Beautiful..
Just the way you are....
Don't ever forget..
Out of God's undying Love
He gave His all..
Just for "You and Me"
and all the people...
Love bunches.. forever more..
yours always... Love
Form:
One little pig built his house out of ---STICKS
Another little pig built his house out of straw ---AND
The last little pig built his house out of ---STONES
This just goes to show you that pigs ---MAY
Not always do the right thing and may ---BREAK
Out of their pen trying to get away from wolves, which ---MY
Poem tells you, is trying to bring their flesh and ---BONES
To a place where he may eat them. He blew 2 houses down ---BUT
The house of stone could not be blown down, so in other ---WORDS,
When you stick together and work as a team you ---MAY NEVER, -CAN NEVER -WILL NEVER
Be beaten and you can say to your enemies, "You can never---HURT ME!"
This POEM is an Example of a New Form of
POETRY Dane-Ann and HGarvey Daniel Esquire are trying to sanction
They call it “ End Line Word “ Poetry Thank-YOU
Looking at his house
He sees nothing special
A pile of wood and sheetrock
Bigger than others
But he owes more than it’s worth
His house is underwater
A term he doesn’t understand
In real speak the house belongs to the Bank
To the brokers and the lawyers.
Wanting a piece of the American dream
He misrepresented himself
Taking crumbs from the table
So to speak
Fudging a number here
Adding a zero there
The smart money said it was alright
Don’t worry they told him
Everybody’s doing it.
He and his wife were barely making it
Hoping just to hang in there
Things would get better
They kept telling themselves
But it was too good to be true
The economy went south
Things went wrong
Lost a job
The bills piled up
He and the wife stopped talking
Broke, he feels pushed aside.
There are two sides to every lie
And in this one
There’s a bill somewhere
That’s long overdue
And so my friend
It will have to be paid by me and you.
I woke up this morning and sit here with tears in my eyes.
Her seeing me came as a big surprise.
She has no idea who I might be.
Plus some kind if proof she demanded too see.
she wants me to find the people in her past.
The ones that in this life no longer last.
Asking me to take her back home.
To the house where her and my nephew lived alone.
That house house over 20 years ago.
It's been torn down and all I have are pictures to show.
She talks to that lady that no on else can see
And the boys are always here to some degree.
This is the worse part that we have finally hit.
This day I am not sure I can take.
Starting off with tear as I wake.
Into this day can I make it all fit
Because today stronger I can't seem to get
So I sit there in this room crying alone and venting to you
You can bet this has all taken me by surprise
I have never woke up with tears in my eyes!
An Uncle Charlie Original
© 2010 unclecharlie