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Poems On / About HOUSE  11/25/2015 12:12:49 AM
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A Lonely Refugee In A Tent

Alone and in a tent by himself, Located on an isolated land, Brought into his inevitable fate Like a dove brought into a strange house. He looked around to find his parents, Brothers, sisters, and all neighbors, but in vain. He couldn't find anyone except himself Surrounded by misery and despair. Found him somewhere in a corner and Brought him here to a new house (tent) . Alone he does not know what to do, but He waits and waits until he gets dizzy. Perhaps the tent will be his eternal House for ever and ever. Lonely he comes and goes in front of His tent just to count days. The tent was made for him and for poor Refugees waiting for unknown future. His palace is a tent, but he wants to go to His pretty house to see his missing hope. All the other refugees are like his case Isolated and deserted in the unknown land. The tent was not his his desire nor all the Other ones' desires, but the fate's desire. He lives in his tent and they live in their Tents waiting to come back to their pretty houses. He is still over there in a tent alone and So all the other poor refugees.

Read more poems from MOHAMMAD SKATI >>>



Moving House

Moving house is such the pits; all the old certainties that
were there forever all to be packed up in boxes.Views out
of most windows I look through, especially since the next
door neighbour’s house was burnt to the ground.

His house bulldozed out of the way revealing panoramic views; all to be lost. It didn't help that the old lady two houses
down also left; My house is now a prime target for the
Department Of Housing redevelopment plans.

I have lived here for the past 10 years the Department Of Housing says move on please; making me a wandering nomad wandering to the next house. Never living long enough
to take root, they only say move on please.

Then fear gripped me because I’ve always loved my fibro country. In the past I have lived in Brickveneersville a place I regard as a fool’s paradise, because people think because they live there it immunises them from economic harm.

Due to Sub Prime and Ninja (No income No Jobs) home loans crises in the United States and interest rates people in Brickveneersville are losing their homes.The repossession squads are out repossessing homes in all suburbs.

However, the Department Of Housing seems to be merciful in that they say to me never mind we’ll find you another fibro house. The Dept pays for the removalist, relocation of my air- con, and even giving me a new garden shed.

All bribes so that I go quietly and without much fuss; my wife swears blind we’re not moving again. As for me I love my fibro country, my people, my land where I belong away from Brickveneersville and Taj Mahalsville.©

Jerry Behr Number 2

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A House

I cried by myself in a house
A house stocked full of people

I bled by myself in a house
A house with a mother

I broke down by myself in a house
A house that I curse

The pain is here still
In the house that is my body

Like a rose i bloomed without my water
In a house that had no light to grow

I stopped crying in a house
A house that hates me back
Viktoria Lilith

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English Project

I heard an explosion today near our house. I was so scared that I got my gun quickly and looked for my uncle. Surprisingly, he was still asleep in his room. After I checked on him, I ran outside the house and there was smoke and dust everywhere. The stench of gunpowder tickled my nose horribly. I looked for dead people but couldn’t see anything or anyone because of the dust. When the dust lifted up, there were bodies and blood everywhere. At the corner of the building a block away from our house, I saw a familiar body lying on the ground. When I came closer, I realised that it was my friend, Ali, and he was... dead! I was so shocked that I ran into our house and did not leave my bed for the rest of the day. The only thing that I knew that time is that I HATE THIS LAND.
Jas Andrada

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Poems On / About HOUSE