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Poems On / About HOUSE  4/25/2015 10:57:07 AM
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  237.     

The Yellow House On Tucker Avenue

Saturday mornings brought promises,
of starting over,
beginning anew.
Trying to make the week over
and re-invent my life,
a life that I wanted with you.

The house sat high against a slope,
far enough away from the road to make it seem inaccessible
Painted a cheerful yellow, the colour
of happiness
And there in the yellow house on Tucker Avenue
I imagined my life with you.

Loving you in rooms filled
with laughter,
days and nights turning into years
In a house painted the colour of sunshine
and happy children that looked like you,
There in that yellow house on Tucker Avenue
I created a life spent with you.

The weekends gave way to reality
And the house sits deserted still
Steadily fading into memory, alone against the sturdy hill.
Abandoned to the fantasy and the careless dreams that I knew,
When I pass by the house that a love built
That yellow house on Tucker Avenue
 
Karen Touzalin

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  238.     

Those Of Us Who Live...In Houses Made Of Rose Colored Glass

There are those among us
Who have been, for years,
Living in Houses...not well
Protected Houses...but Houses
Made of Rose Colored Glass...

And we thought, for the longest
Time, that our houses were perfect...
Until, that is, that first crack appeared? ,
And the house of Rose Colored Glass
Came crashing down at our feet,

And there we were,
Exposed,
Vulnerable,
Unprotected,
Alone and
So Scared.

Well, we developed our own houses
Out of self-defense, simply to cover
Our fears...and We learned to laugh
Again, and stand on our own two feet.

But there are times...Oh, yes, there are
Times, when I long for the dream I had...
And that House of Rose Colored Glass,
For the world was lovely then, and I
Didn't feel so alone...

Scarlett Treat
January 3,2009
 
Scarlett Treat

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  239.     

House-Warming

Our house anew is built at last,
Despite the struggles of the past!
A happy family now resides,
With Almighty God us besides!

Gone are the days of lack of space;
The new house wears a painted face;
Born is a harmony and peace
That God-willingly shouldn’t ever cease!

The house looks cozy and gorgeous;
The cost is anybody’s guess;
God bless our house and its in-mates,
As we journey to Heaven’s gates!

Our house must turn a happy home!
All brethren are always welcome;
Let love and prayer fill the air,
And faces wear smiles and laughter!

God bless this family and house;
Let Jesus Christ be King and spouse;
Let forgiving hearts show the world
That wounds will heal, however old!

Let brothers live and serve the Lord,
As per the teachings of God’s Word!
Let common blood and flesh stay strong,
And emanate a happy song!

Let parents feel proud of their sons!
‘Let parley work better than guns! ’
Let neighbors sense Christ’s own presence,
Within the house and o’er the fence!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-22-2009
 
Dr John Celes

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  240.     

The Little House On Tea Hill

There was a little house in a yellow wood
Along a narrow green lane on Tea Hill.
Bold and proud in the wind it stood
A shelter of love, a home of memories still.

Solid it stood through the years.
Sunrise or sunset, through happiness and tears.
Those fleeting years - golden or grim; gay or gray,
A tapestry of dreams and hopes each day.

But if its walls and stairs could talk,
They would speak of Man's abuse of Nature's walk,
And about times or climes of gripping fear,
Of despair, danger and death ever so near.

Terrible tales of floods, famines and uncertain fate,
Of repression, rebellion and reprisals of consuming hate.
Then fell over the house a strange and awesome hush
As frightened sparrows flew off in a rush.

Away, away from the hill of oblivion and its narrow green lanes,
Pain had come unwelcomed to stay.
With its stinging swords and crimson chains,
She locked the house and blocked the way.

So, there the little house on Tea Hill stood,
Lonely, desolate and dirty in a narrow lane.
Sparrows returned and chirped merry in the yellow wood.
But the little lonely house still longed and cried in vain.



(The little house on Tea Hill refers to Andrew`s ancestral house in Cha Shan, Dongguan, in Southern China.}
 
Andrew Yip

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