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Poems On / About HOUSE  8/31/2015 2:45:16 PM
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Big Loss

Those pretty people including my neighbor, Who used to live closer to my house, went Here and there, They went everywhere because their pretty Homes leveled to earth and their dreams too, They left everyone and everything behind them Unattended even by guards or even guard dogs, They abandoned all their pretty memories, Their jobs, their loved ones, and all they owned, They could not take other than what they were Able to carry like the precious pieces of gold, Their pretty hopes got buried under their destroyed Buildings and houses, their cars, and their furniture, Everything went with the wind because something Ugly, rude, ruthless, and merciless happened over there And led greatly into that big loss in everything and in everyone.

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Under The Debris Of A Fallen House

A conscience fell among those whose houses fell, It's the world's conscience that fell that free and fast fall The day that started with the death of innocent people, This world has no conscience at all simply because either It's in bed or it's in a morgue, Nothing happens when innocent kids, innocent women, and all kinds Of people die horribly under the debris of their fallen houses! Why only silence talk in a time it should be silent? This is our world's dead conscience, so We're innocent from all our world's moody conduct.

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I used to climb the high rocks anywhere, I used to climb the the old school's walls, I used to climb the oranges' trees at the dentist's house, I used to climb all mulberry's trees at my dad's aunt's house, I used to climb the rock of suicide, I had the vitality and the energy to climb anything high, but Now I only climb my pretty poems.... My poems are higher than the higher waves or the higher mountains Because I keep climbing till the end.

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House Of Misery

Haunted by your memories, tormented by what was, I live in this house of misery, never to be visited by love. These empty walls and hallowed halls, voices echoing in the room, pacing the floor back and forward trying to shake the ghosts of you. Your kiss still lingers after all these years, your presence is still felt in my abode, this is my house of misery, and I live here alone.
edward turner

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Poems On / About HOUSE