Welcome to Your Poetry Dot Com - Read, Rate, Comment on, or Submit Poetry. Browse Poetry Forums, or just enjoy other parts of our poetic community.
One of the largest databases of poetry on the net, now over 198,500+ poems!
Welcome to Your Poetry Dot Com    Poems On Site: 198,500+   Comments On Poems: 427,000+   Forum Posts: 105,000+
Custom Search
  Welcome ! Home  ·  FAQ  ·  Topics  ·  Web Links  ·  Your Account  ·  Submit Poetry  ·  Top 30  ·  OldSite Link 09-June 18:12:43 AEST  
  Menu
  Home
· Micks Shop
· Our eBay Store· Error Submit
 Poetry
· Submit Poetry
· Least Read Poems
· Topics
· Members Listing
· Old Site Post 2001
· Old Site Pre 2001
· Poetry Archive
· Public Domain Poetry
 Stories
· Stories (NEW ! )
· Submit Story
· Story Topics
· Stories Archive
· Story Search
  Community
· Our Poetry Forums
· Our Arcade
100's of Games !

  Site Help
· FAQ
· Feedback

  Members Areas
· Your Account
· Members Journals
· Premium Sign-Up
  Premium Section
· Special Section
· Premium Poems
· Premium Submit
· Premium Search
· Premium Top
· Premium Archive
· Premium Topics
 Fun & Games

· Jokes
· Bubble Puzzle
· ConnectN
· Cross Word
· Cross Word Easy
· Drag Puzzle
· Word Hunt
 Reference
· Dictionary
· Dictionary (Rhyming)
· Site Updates
· Content
· Special Content
 Search
· Search
· Web Links
· All Links
 Top
· Top 30
  Help This Site
· Donations
 Others
· Recipes
· Moderators
Our Other Sites
· Embroidery Design Store
· Your Jokes
· Special Urls
· JM Embroideries
· Public Domain Poetry and Stories
· Diamond Dotz
· Cooking Info and Recipes
· Quoof - Australian Story

  Social

Array ( [sid] => 172930 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Country House [time] => 2012-06-10 06:02:45 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Bored wind blows over and through thickets of uncared for grass.
The sound of the blow hisses through the ragged roots and the
physical part of the wind criss-crosses and intertwines with the
partly thatched roofs of a sturdy yet, tired country house.

The silent and sneaky force of nature known as 'damp' has found
its way to this secluded trap and has long since penetrated the
arthritic walls and stressed windows. The curtains, once beautiful and soft,
have turned yellow and crusted like the pages of a once readable book
that got a desperate soaking.

From a hole in the farthest room, where guests were once
entertained and fretted over, can be seen wonderful rolling hills
with lightning white mares pondering the ground they feed from.

A hand reaching to turn the knob of the front door will find it quite
a nasty business as the damp has invaded its moulded brass
and commands an army of sticky droplets that cling to clean palms.

The elderly wooden floors will demonstrate their orchestra of creaking
and snapping if stepped on and if one must venture on them further
they may find their foot caught in the wrath of the un-kept floor.

In the house you will find rooms haunted by wet echoes of the birds
that call claim to the broken house or the slimy rain that creeps down
from the lonely ceilings to greet the dust colonised carpets of Persian
descent.

See the burn mark left by the iron that so carefully used to straighten
the work clothes and leisure suits that were put on when the weather
saw an opportunity to give warmth and cheer to the land and its life forms.

In a small and secret corner of the house is a room that holds all the belongings
of the past inhabitants and is still locked and furnished with memories.
Grand was the dining room where the family lay, under the antique wooden table and
swift was the aircraft bomb that blew them to powder.

All this and the paint forever peels. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 127 [topic] => 57 [informant] => NatKingCole [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => war )
Country House

Contributed by NatKingCole on Sunday, 10th June 2012 @ 06:02:45 AM in AEST
Topic: war



Bored wind blows over and through thickets of uncared for grass.
The sound of the blow hisses through the ragged roots and the
physical part of the wind criss-crosses and intertwines with the
partly thatched roofs of a sturdy yet, tired country house.

The silent and sneaky force of nature known as 'damp' has found
its way to this secluded trap and has long since penetrated the
arthritic walls and stressed windows. The curtains, once beautiful and soft,
have turned yellow and crusted like the pages of a once readable book
that got a desperate soaking.

From a hole in the farthest room, where guests were once
entertained and fretted over, can be seen wonderful rolling hills
with lightning white mares pondering the ground they feed from.

A hand reaching to turn the knob of the front door will find it quite
a nasty business as the damp has invaded its moulded brass
and commands an army of sticky droplets that cling to clean palms.

The elderly wooden floors will demonstrate their orchestra of creaking
and snapping if stepped on and if one must venture on them further
they may find their foot caught in the wrath of the un-kept floor.

In the house you will find rooms haunted by wet echoes of the birds
that call claim to the broken house or the slimy rain that creeps down
from the lonely ceilings to greet the dust colonised carpets of Persian
descent.

See the burn mark left by the iron that so carefully used to straighten
the work clothes and leisure suits that were put on when the weather
saw an opportunity to give warmth and cheer to the land and its life forms.

In a small and secret corner of the house is a room that holds all the belongings
of the past inhabitants and is still locked and furnished with memories.
Grand was the dining room where the family lay, under the antique wooden table and
swift was the aircraft bomb that blew them to powder.

All this and the paint forever peels.




Copyright © NatKingCole ... [ 2012-06-10 06:02:45]
(Date/Time posted on site)





Advertisments:






Previous Posted Poem         | |         Next Posted Poem


 
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any comment.
That said, if you find an offensive comment, please contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title etc.


While every care is taken to ensure the general sites content is family safe, our moderators cannot be in all places; all the time. Please report poetry and or comments that are in breach of our site rules HERE (Please include poem title or url). Parents also please ensure that you supervise your children well when they are on the internet; regardless of what a site says about being, or being considered, child-safe.

Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©

Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster

All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com

All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.

Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com