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Poems On / About HOUSE  3/5/2015 8:32:45 AM
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The house

By the house, the source of law
I heard voices haughty but low
“Smash them senseless by the brow
We care not how miserable they grow.”

In the house, the source of law
We made them sit to let us know
But they say, “I must fill my jaw
And tell them life is hard and sore.”

For the house, the source of law
We sacrificed our lives to let them go
In it they now fight for their chore
Yet we follow them like dogs in tow

Within the house, the source of law
Our fate is designed, we can’t say no
The claws on their once harmless paw
Must dig deep into our flesh and soul

This very house, the source of law
Where we invested our trust so raw
Is the n-e-c-r-o-p-o-l-i-s, sad to say so,
Of all the good we hoped for.
Godfrey Machuka

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She is my home for MY lady Irene

Green; green is the riverside grass
The willows weeping by the stream.
The song birds sing pleasantly
and yet my heart, my heart is sad.
My beloved is not here and so
the house echoes with emptiness.
I wait longing for her return.
Loneliness oppresses me
although I know she will come back.
A week can seem eternity.
I stand by the casement and watch
Keeping vigil impatiently.
In the distance a cloud of dust.
May herald she is on her way
My spirits lift, my heart takes wing.
The house will come to life again
once she steps over the threshold
without her the house is just a house.
Her presence makes the house a home
Without my lover to share it
of what use is a mansion.

http: // blog.my space.com/poeticpiers

Shih style
ivor or ivor.e hogg

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Our house

This is an ancient house
Whose walls are chiefly brown
The building blocks are bones
The windows – the sensory organs

The pipes are the vessels
The waters being the blood
The pump house is a marvelous device
That works for decades without rest.

The wiring net work is par excellent
No electronics engineer can duplicate.
The system is always alert
All the natural laws are finely knit.

The drainage is total,
For us it may all seem casual!
No repair is required
If our stomach is properly cared

A battalion guards the house
No nation has such a vast regiment.
It is very much a silent battle,
We can spend peaceful nights.

The house is our own,
This is a gift of our parents.
We owe a debt to our ancestors,
We are given the house to live in.

This is a fine construction,
Yet we need pay fine attention.
Living in tune with nature, body and heart,
We can play the finest part.

Ravi Panamanna

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Whose house is this?

whose house is this?

silence crawls on night slowly like bugs
I stretch my limbs under warm woolen rugs,
a shrill cry of the moth and whistle of house cricket
dueling under my bed to have their accounts set,
The sound of feasting ants from a slit of wall
half sleepy I hear lover flea's invitation call,
two pigeons making love near ventilation hole
my existence feels affiliation with nature's whole,
a spark of the firefly in the black night
reminds a fall of star once shining bright,
a mosquito murmurs a secret in my ears
an expansion of universe my eager heart hears,
a house within the house within the house I live
mine is not mine this foolish mind can't believe
Mukesh Raval

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Poems On / About HOUSE