September 2005 Theme ~ "Buildings"




The House on the Hill

The house sat silently on the hill
The building dark inside
Covered with cracks and spider webs
And water stains now dried

As one steps close to look inside
Creaks and groans abound
Tree branches brush against with the wind
These without a sound

This once proud building of childhood
Has come to past its prime
A home so warm so long ago
Now once upon a time

© 2005 ~ Black Rose



That Rickety Ole Shack

One day while riding along a quiet road
We passed an old farmhouse, fences of old.
There was something in an old building out back
That made me want to check out that little old shack.

It was worn and withered, with tarpaper shingles
As we got closer the wind made it all wiggle.
It made me wonder what it was used for
Was it a barn or stable or something more?

The boards on the walls were worn and I could see right through
The window panes cracked, partially painted and glued
The door was ajar, broken off its hinge
The whole place smelled of dirt and dinge.

As my mind wandered back to days when times were hard
When one was carrying wood or water from the back yard
It was a daily chore that everyone would share
Did they store wood or an animal back in there?

I stepped inside so cautiously, not wanting to disturb
A creaking board, a sleeping bat or a maybe roosting bird.
You could tell that there was something about the old shack
There was once life in that old building out back.

© 2005 ~ Lady Deb



Old Empty Lot

An old empty lot
That once was new
Now overgrown with weeds
Nothing left but a brick or two.

What used to be
My childhood home
Is now an old empty lot
Where my memories roam.

© 2005 ~ Windstorm



The House

The
House is
Forgotten
By everyone
Standing alone on
The hillside stark and bare
Neglected and forsaken
By those who once had filled its walls
With their laughter, their loving, their joy
Now all that remains is the loneliness
I walk through the house feeling sadness
I walk through the house feeling pain
I wish I could fill the house
With hope and love again
But I have no right
To be here now
I must slip
Out the
Door

© 2005 ~ Maiden Fair



My Scary Building

Lived there for as long as i can or want to remember.
Life was hard and parents were harsh.
Things were also ruff and scary.

Never any place to hide to just disappear.
So on those days when he would come home drunk .
Looking for a subject to beat on again.
List of three which to choose whose the next in line to be abused.
My mother my brother or will it be me.
This house this house it's just too small.

The walls are too thin i hear every name and word he calls.
Oh here i go here comes my free one hand by the throat.
Ruff ride up against the wall oh i'm so scared i've done it again.
I've wet my pants while i'm pinned against the wall.
Dad stands there holding me by the throat.

I plug my ears as he yells at my mother.
I hear thump oh no there goes my brother
he's pulled him from the top of his bunk as he sleeps.
But he didn't do anything it's the usual i know it's dad home drunk again.
When will i be big enough to leave this sad and such scary place?

When oh when can i go i don't want to go through this but we need
A safe secure place to hide or where and when how can we go.
He told mom he would find us and always nowhere we could go.
He scared us into not leaving, just too hard to run with three little children.

© 2005 ~ Annsea146



The School

I remember the building
So stately and tall
The winds and the storms
She weathered them all.

The memories she holds
If she could only talk
Of the children, which
Through her halls they did walk.

The decision was made
By some people in town
For man to come along
And they tore her down.

The architecture, the brickwork
So beautiful to see
Now forever lost except
For in our memory.

© 2005 ~ Cheri



Closed Doors

Out driving, I stopped by a familiar place.
climbing out of my car, I paused
and righted the for sale sign
slumped in the overgrown yard.
A twinge of pain gripped me
and flood of memories inundated my thoughts
as I look around at the dilapidation
of this once beautiful little church.
I remembered my grandparents
and the pride they had for this building;
the happiness it had brought to them.
I recalled the potluck picnics and revivals,
Watermelons and seed spitting contests
on hot summer evenings after services.
Celebrations of birth, sorrows of death,
joys of weddings and bonds of friendship
were shared within these red doors.
Now in disrepair, the bell dormant;
no services or prayer warriors here.
A cold lonely silence fills the place
and only field mice find warmth within.
The strength and ties that bond community
is now just an empty shell.
The people, not the building
were the church and its spirit,
yet it is sad to behold its present state.
A once important way of life dying away.

© 2005 ~ Ada



Old House

Floors were warped but full of warmth
The kitchen was the central place
Where friends and family gathered
To be thankful and give grace

The windows were old and drafty
But they kept the rain outside
And let the light shine in
So in bed you could not hide.

An old fashioned woodstove
Would heat the whole downstairs
And bring the warmth and comfort
To friends who gathered there

Fond memories I will always have
Of my old house up on the hill
The old red house with hallowed halls
These memories I carry still.

© 2005 ~ Lady Viper