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Poems On / About HOUSE  5/3/2016 11:09:51 PM
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For When There Heaven There Is The House Of Respect.

For one ho wish for the touch of respect thus one look to the heaven for it's there where there angel of respect live for every min that one wish for the touch of respect the more one shall see the stars for every star that one see will shine in the night but just to feel the touch of respect is like being touch by a rose and yet for where there heaven there is the house of respect.

Thus when one feel the touch of respect for one feel the light of life yet where there a clear sky for one will shall see the eyes of the angel for who will fill a heart with respect but to the family respect mean a lot to the family for who is the angel of the night but when one wish just for the touch of respect yet for one who wish to feel the touch respect for one feel the touch of the angel and yet for where there a heaven there is the house of respect.

The more one look to the heaven for every eyes that one see is the angels for who will fill a heart that wish for respect but when one feel the night breeze that whisper in the air for every whisper is the whisper for the touch of respect but for one who see the moon thus the moon shall touch one with the light of life but yet for where there heaven there is the house of respect.

Every touch of the light of life the more one will feel the touch of a rose that been fill with the touch of respect every moment that of feel the touch of respect thus one will feel a warm smile that shine like the morning sun that touch the blue sky with respect oh what a beautiful day just to feel he touch of the sun and yet for where there heaven there is the house of respect
Raymond Sawyer

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Haunted House

Reunion, back to original home, my cousin and I again to be; ten years apart as age: us visiting in south.
Greets among members in firm grips, kin in hugs; them seeing each other: two days pleasurable done, just us.

My cousin and I began walk to store, our walk it captures moments of then: we shared those past times gone by. Gradual pace is a tour in our renewal, trip come to a tiny structure we both knew: house along side of road.

Both saw the house with a different remembrance, we both history of times within it: both with good times.
Aged was house by years, now eerie lone structure; it greatly decayed: house now years of neglect.

Thoughts in me running with excitement, I recall as if it were yesterday; acts seen in mind: I fell in a flashback.
Images seen sent me back then; I began smiling about viewed accounts shown: both of us stood in a pause.

He recalled former owners, I did not know them; I recall a couple which lived there: me with them having fun.
My thoughts were of family having three kids; I had long forgotten them: the house to me give pictures to explode.

Images show me with their daughters in fun; mind in pictures with shot display: me and those kids at play.
I couldn't stop my lips from move flapping about them; their beauty I recall: he knew their older sister.

I did not know her at all; yet thoughts of then made both smile: both of us cross to each other shared views.
Mind in active kidnapping of me, past love took; funneled senses: I'm absorbed in awe as pictures rush my mind.

I fell into a portal, its a trap for me, deep into its grasp; as I recall back then: my mind's movie playing joy.
Events of me in house as a child, I see tiny specs in fast running bursts: clear flashes of us up and down stairs.

Taste of times then moisten mouth, those past delights pleasing me: us screaming wild, all loud.
Mind movie, I see myself, face to face looking at me, I recalled then too; cross time mystery: us as we ran.

Structure state funny now in appearance, slanted in given lean, I see me at bottom of stairs: house enormous.
Gleam within young eyes, my chance to again see as then; ripping I was not even five: my recall is of a titan.

House at night no electric light, I recall talking to girl's father, us about a lamp: family use kerosene.
We continued about other aspects, our pass by see all rooms; now filled with items: house used as a barn.

Windows were broken, fully blocked, house not long to be; someone benefited from shelter: its final moments.
Inside hay stored, they were in feet depth; rooms packed with mounted bails: path space to move.

Cousin and I, again began our walk to store, picture to stop; last clips: actively with kids running wild.
Enchantments of our faces, I smiled at this recall, I grin in reply; happy: we continued slow walk to the store.

Hours goes pass, meet past pals, antics we among old friends, time to go home; night walk: we talk in dark.
Fifteen minutes from store, its light gone, not even sight between us: both see solely darkness in our slow stroll.

Both abyss covered, we near spot house cloaked, laughs about visit at store: humor separated given happiness. House abruptly pop out of nowhere, it to flash before us: house all in all essence appearance had altered.

We stood on road in its front vision, it attracts attention, its floors changed: them having light beyond electric.
Windows bright shining not showing cracks, beams rays from windows bright; house pounding music: if party.

Footsteps halted by change, not to hear gravel in shock; windows illuminated: now as if sun was itself in house.
I was confounded, knowing we saw house bundles of straw filled; I wonder about this certainty: it's fact now.

Cousin instance react, took charge of matter, imposing reaction on the occurrence; grab pebble: he hurled it up.
Pebble soared for seconds in pit of dark, pebble struck tin roof top; a clanging bang: all events stopped.
Alexander Coppedge

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A Beautiful House

A Beautiful House

Imagine a beautiful house; the walls are white as snow. The flowers in the garden are full of life and inspiration.

The gold trimmings on the house demonstrate class and power. An old swing hanging from a tree shows perfect care.

The birds in the birdbath bring inspiration and joy to those eyes that see. The freshly cut green grass brings a sense of dedication and humbleness to the whole view.

But if you go into the house it's like entering a totally different world. To your surprise the house is empty.

The walls are blacked old and dusty, with the paint chipping off. You can notice the cracks in the ceiling, walls, and corners.

The damp smell of grimy sewer floods the air. The spider webs on the walls show signs of abandonment.

The loneliness in the house gives your body chills and thoughts of confusion. Nothing in the house just emptiness, loneliness, abandonment.

But to your surprise you find an old table with a lit candle in the middle of it. You're confused and think to yourself what can a lit candle be doing in an abandoned house?

And why is this house so beautiful and full of life in the outside? Yet is it inhabited, cold and lonely in the inside?

You see what I am explaining is not a poem or something read from a book. It's the structure of an example of a heart.

A heart, which has lied and cheated, a heart which has betrayed and suffered.

A heart, which is full of anger and rage. A heart which has lied and been lied to and is now tired of living.

A heart, which is tired of being played with, is tired of suffering, crying, hurting, and loneliness. Sometimes trying to fit in, trying to be normal trying to have a purpose yet feeling so lost.

Finding refuge in Poems letters and writing. You see the paper won't laugh at me, or say you're soft or stupid or tell anyone.

The paper doesn't brake my heart lie to me or play head games. The paper tells the truth. Why I cannot say; how I do not know.

What I do know is that no one really had the guts to really understand me. You see after being alone for such a long time ones heart forgets how to say welcome in. Why must things be this way I do not know.

By: Israel DeGross Jr. May 14th 1998
Israel DeGross

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The House

The house I see everyday
I watch it with every step I take.
The house thats filled with joy
is now filled with sorrow.
The house surrounded with mockingbirds
is now surrounded by crows.
A house fit for a wedding
is now fit for a funeral.
In the summer it looks like a fantasy
but now that its winter it looks like a sad movie.
A house filled with hurt, grief, and death
will no longer be happiness and life.
Now I no longer watch this house with joy
I pass by as if it never existed.
The house I always dreamed to have
has finally..... vanished.
Aisha Love

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Poems On / About HOUSE