Manor Poems - Poems about Manor

They say the lady in the lake is still there Her spirit lingers caught in the water Maybe she’s waiting for justice or revenge Who can say for sure They say she was killed Her lover—no her killer stabbed her Left her sinking in that cold black lake Sometimes when the nights are too quiet When the air feels wrong and heavy She rises Wrapped...

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Forever doomed to reside at 2 Highland Manor Drive A worse fate than death being hull hive, I just realized after a surprise inspection our opportunity to relocate cursed after yours truly and the missus subjected to vitriolic wrath (okay hyperbole employed for poetic effect) will exhale his last dying breath condemned to reside within unit b44, however many orbitz remain, whereby yours truly already misspent six...

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A healthy dose of invective flourishes at Highland Manor asylum I hate to be curt, but welcome to the monkey house at 2 highland manor drive, where all manner of imbeciles go berserk. I and the missus (thee unfortunate recipient of poisonous blackened barbed wrath) more often then not remain squirreled away in our one bedroom hovel designated unit b44. We desperately search for an alternative abode ideally,...

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To care for her, quickly, Attend, instantly; This husband-like heart, Wants her near: A hug in my arms, Is here, urgently; This custom, of love, I would share –...

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Highlights from Highland Manor Courtesy Goofus and Gallant who began their broadly-drawn moral plays in the 1950s, initially depicted as identical twins, but later on, editors for Highlights indicated the two were brothers, but not twins, and by 1995, they simply existed as two unrelated boys. Analogously, ineptly, and uniformly juxtaposed slipshod verse best flushed down toilet or slid down...

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Fringe benefits (a plug) for perks (yo man) living at 2 highland manor drive Expanse of green acres draped like a petticoat when ye arrive birds of a feather flock together and bees gather collect nectar, pollen, and water to bolster their hive verdant vista sports spot for wildlife to thrive such as; whitetail deer, red fox, Easter bunnies, garter snakes. Not only state of...

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Marley Manor is that old castle-like Victorian high on the hill. The one on West Minister? Yes. That’s the one. It gives me a chill. Seriously, I would love to see; it always gives me a thrill. I decided to invite along my cousin three-timing-flirty-Jill. When are you doing this? asked Mr. Pete Mahogany. It was not any of his...

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I (a youthful sexagenarian) can no longer quip being a country boy at heart, but me as urban cowboy, I declare would never so fuhgeddaboudit dear reader nothing 'cept bucolic existence laboring organic garden harvesting fruits and vegetables by the bushel and quart constitute an appropriate start. Don't get me wrong; Every cell comprising body electric of mine, would yearn to prolong and relish those bygone salad days, whereat (R)oute...

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after dark April 26th, 2022 Prometheus bound out the heavens to strike fear in the hearts of men and women reminding us mortals how like oxen yoked (together via a wooden beam forced to undergo strenuous labor) unlike most elderly residents here at Highland Manor Apartments whose arising out of bed exertion tuckers sexagenarians, septuagenarians, octogenarians, nonagenarians, and very small number of centenarians out nevertheless awakening me courtesy ear...

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Five chimney pots standing proud on victorian tiles and darkened shroud of stone, it stands alone. Bleak and raven tarnish grown in age and time, its beauty faded, stout yet jaded. Resolute, it does remain a formidable and gloomy garnished stain on an urban nest of semi chain. How neglected you have been when once a queen! Standing in your...

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By invitation from a trusted friend, a medium intervention took place and I went. The building set in the thick forest by a shimmering lake, some broken sheds looking sad and strange to take. Weeded and worn the manor house thatch, a frail welcome and the oil lamp in my face, opens the latch. Guided into a stony room, a...

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Eve outlines the curves of an old terrain, where antique bottles in their moonlit sheen reflect pillars’ glow…now mildly unseen from vintage halls of paling, roughened grain: All through this vine-clad manor’s dusky shade poses outside its elegant fig tree-- Which attests to a once- royal marquee this landmark, our own hometown’s proud arcade. Written 9/7/2019 Free Verse...

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it's a story about a henpeckked husband that catered and spoiled his wife. one day he fixed her beef tougue and cabbage soup her friend was in attendance so she smiled and became mean and uncaring and cursed him. day's later when he mustered up the courage to speak to her, her cornered him and cursed him in the corner not allowing him to leave. silently...

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Temporary salient sunny solitary sight does dole divine delight, asper this dada to imbibe delicious draught when uptight fraught, viz sunkist radiant photons packets of energy with life giving hefty might to warm formerly frost bitten cockles, which secluded niche bracketed by slight recess, where perpendicular brick walls converge, forming mini refuge beckoning tours ruly forthright, this solitary scribe savored moment of peace simply lollygagging excite, hence lawn chair...

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Few tears were shed when news arrived that Lord Trevelyan had died. One solitary wreath was laid as shallow, feigned respects were paid. Remote and sullen, he'd disdained each hand of friendship, and remained throughout his life a bitter soul with whom no person could condole. His lavish mansion towered still above the village, on the hill where shadows stalked, in pale moonlight, all signs of...

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