Mysteryhouse Poems | Examples


List of Member Poems

Sinew of the Hearth

Sinew of the Hearth

The rafters in the 
Old homestead creak
Heavy winds ravage, 
Sounding bleak

Two by fours are the 
Bones of the structure
Termites diseased the 
Prowess of its infrastructure

Three generations found 
Safety within her walls
A miracle must happen
 Before the old house falls

Through the cracks the 
Wind whistles loud and clear
Another storm may level
 All they we all hold dear

Raising children, cash flow,
 Made neglect fell on the home
The silence of the destroyer 
Devoured all vital proteome

Just when we prepared for 
Survival the winds became calm
The sun warmed her face 
 The house shined with grace

The homestead rose in 
Strength once more 
Although she cried, 
She held her inner core

Faith is the hearth
 That declined
 Stormy threats,
 Endurance fills her spine

Wisdom and fearlessness
 Adhere and bind
 Our homestead resisted 
The hands of time

Ever so stately
She still stands like new
 The presage of strength
Resides her resilient sinew


Carole Cookie Arnold 
2011

The House

A taken photograph
Black and gray it's all faded out
Burned to a crisp in this house
The stairs creaked just a touch
All this sadness is just too much
A bedroom towards the left
Purple sheets on that bed
Floors are half gone
In this house what went wrong?
It's hard to understand a place 
A place you never seen 
Until you know it's dreadful history
Brings you down to wondering
Why this house is falling
I move into a closet without a door
People say it's not a good place
I walk in to a cool breeze
Goosebumps cover my body 
I give a slight cry
I hear a horrible noise
I jump to excitement 
What could that be?
I walk in the closet a bit more
Wondering if there's a floor
I take a step and I fall
Upon this huge pile
What could this mean?
I see a red dress 
In perfect condition
I pick it up
And say I remember 
    --- in that photograph lies a girl in a red dress, her spirit flies around. This was that house ---

House of Solitude

House of Solitude
on my knees a consiparcy lays.
These whispers on the walls,
Like mute screams,
Trying to climb on the chinks.
When time was pure,
this house was a home.
Flowers and smells of Spring
Filled every single room.
Even the trees that grew
On the green yard
Were the refuge for our dreams
To hide.
But rainy days came
And storm threw on our door nights 
Without moon.
Our love abandoned this house
Leaving the gates open.
Ghosts and spirits
Entered, as if they found
A place to sleep,
A place to hide from the storm
Forever.
The white walls became black,
As rainy nights went on.
Thorns grew on roses,
Bloody thorns of a past withdrawn.
And as I lay down to sleep,
Memories visit me in shifts,
Reminding me of our time.
Nightmares I watch on sunny days
Without light 
As rain keeps on
Filling it's agony upon this single roof.
And I waited for years 
For you to come and heal my pain,
To paint this walls white again,
But you never returned.
You left this house 
With your soul in it
To hunt and to betray my pure, innocent dream.


Premium Member Wounded Aphrodite

The rocks tripped me; I trod forward, upward to my lesson.
The wind chooses not to make its presence felt, yet.
The sun bursts gloriously into the flat, baby-blue, sky.

The red brown earth held its moisture greedily.
The effort shows in pulse and perspiration,
a flush blooms on cheeks unused to color.

The house appears abruptly, from a froth of greenery.
The wind keeps its distance, as if sensing
its presence is not desired.
The golden sun valiantly attempts to breach the houses gloom.

The guardians of house, home, and ether, leap forth.
Stone griffins, stern, etched by acid rain, stand.
The earthly hounds dart wraithlike through clusters 
of cluttering tomes,and out the door to greet me.I enter.

The plaster shouts syllables, displaying in a military bent.
The house hungers for light, a broom. Her feather-duster fright.
The corner china cabinet displays a human skull.

Into this room she walks, a spirit of air, scared by storm.
God’s sacred light leaps.... only in the instructors eyes;
from her disfigured form, blue orbs, full of mischief and the joy of flight, revel.... 
teacher, a wounded Aphrodite, smiles.

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