Rooms Poems - Poems about Rooms

Your shoes are still by the door. I stepped around them this morning like stepping around a memory that doesn’t want to go. The hallway light flickers now. It didn’t used to. I thought maybe your voice would echo if I left the door open long enough, but the house only hums, like it’s trying to forget you ever lived here. I found your notebook. The pages were still warm, some...

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searching empty rooms ~ what do my tender hopes seek now that I am all moved out ~ ~ mattered - not oblique ~ ~ sadly - whole house seems aloof even walls just feel the roof...

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His soul portrays the eyes of a wolf, lost without his pack - banished from his territory. In his deceptive demeanour, hiding his depressive state - he howls at the moon. An outcast unable to dream, he adorns a false smile at sunrise, as he's still scarred from the house he once built - brick by brick. Where walls of lullabies, were created...

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The mansion looms, a shadowed keep, Where secrets slept and shadows creep. A roll of dice, a whispered plea, "Miss Scarlett in the Library?" The little pawns, a painted crew, Green, Plum, White, a somber hue. Peacock's fan, a scarlet dress, Each held a motive, more or less. The cards held tight, a hidden hand, Of weapon, room, and suspect planned. The lead pipe cold,...

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Everyone sang of your beauty, in words and poems, through rooms full of murmurs, but you only heard my silence, where words needed no sound. Everyone longed to see you, like darkness chasing the moon across the sky, but you gave me the first light, a vision like a forgotten dream reborn. Since you began to smile gently, with...

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The empty rooms await a warm caress, New walls that hold no echo of the past, A future built beyond distant distress. No worn-out sills where sunlight likes to bless, No garden ghosts where happy hours amassed, The empty rooms await a warm caress, Each pristine space, a canvas to impress With hopes and dreams that surely now will last, A future built...

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Written: March 05, 2025 *********************** As the final petal droops upon quivering leaves, while the soul begins to decay akin to the evening lights fading into a coffin. Tears flow quietly across vacant rooms, sheltered in the hidden retreat, of a hapless fool folly. Aged and forsaken, an ancient blade lies on a ragged...

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In dark rooms where silence flows like a river of ink, I sit alone, wrapped in the solitude of Monday mornings, While presidents speak of honor, culture, and dedication, And their words are echoes lost in the vastness of a gray sky. Sadness weighs on my soul like a shadow stretching over an empty field, My manliness suffocates me, stripping...

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Sometimes I need light. Sometimes we, sometimes everyone needs light. In the dark and the damp of rooms, of feelings, of thoughts and of our lives that flow, we need light from the window, from the open door, from the open spaces under the open skies, and then we need some lights to glow, but from where, when or whether it will come or...

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Have you ever thought about the permanence of airports? Flights dock and depart. The people flow in and out, ever-changing, a whirl of color and language and time. But not the concrete. Not the tile. The cornerstones always remain. Decades of stories, manifold fears and dreams, held between each molecule. Here we are timeless. Existence escapes the construct of seconds that parade forward. In an airport, you simply are....

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2 weeks x 2 future. that’s what I put in notes to remind myself how often I’ll be able to see her and pretend I’m easy to find, same as when we were kids trading rooms on a regular basis, once fear’s been eclipsed by new and parallel taxation habits, once we’ve forgotten how it wasn’t as easy as...

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Monday is coming..I can taste the dread.! a sacrifical Summit i see ahead.' The condemed has long snorted A magical power.? Dusty corners await now a'quiver to Devour' aquaintances are many, and friends will be few.' Times and a half times, once upon a time! (you were new) You've consulted the augeries, and laid out the bones Burned up the...

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In the quiet rooms of the unseen, Where shadows dance with ancient secrets, A choreography of reality is woven mysteriously, Created by unseen hands, the puppeteers of the world, Threads of truth and illusion, like stars in the night sky. There, in a hidden sanctuary in Washington, Unknown shadows draw the contours of existence, Not just events, but their mystical essence, Shaping the...

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O Monami! Fiancé these days! They forgot to pick wrought iron In their unsung Mays! In seasons, they sprinkled In salts they tried, In their secret recipes Even my Clover died! PS. It is still poetry! ...

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In the universe of the two rooms, she gathers her dreams between her palms, She lets her fired hair descend upon the folds of our fleeting time. "It's the end," she articulates with a voice sipping from the last silences, Through the mirror in which we have often been born and died together. I watch as she spreads the...

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