Nobody Left To Love Me

 

Someone always leaving
and never coming back.
The wooden houses left too long abandoned
to turn old and gray.

Weeds pushing apart......
Trees gone wild,
Fields taking over.
Shredded curtains blowing in the wind.

Beams of weathered wood......
No longer able to hold in
The soft heartbeat of Home.

Unknown
 

Pieces Of The Past

Each time I pass this old homestead, my heart skips a beat.
Long ago abandoned, and neglected, I can't help but imagine her beauty and elegance in bygone times.
I fight the urge to hang a Christmas wreath on her weathered clapboard siding, and imagine her walls whispering "Thank You" for not forgetting.

Someone always leaving
and never coming back.
The wooden houses left too long abandoned
to turn old and gray.

Weeds pushing apart . . .
Trees gone wild,
Fields taking over
Shredded curtains blowing in the wind.

Beams of weathered wood . . .

No longer able to hold in
The soft heartbeat of Home.

 

 

 

Pieces Of The Past

 

 

  "Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing."

 

  ~ Camille Pissarro

The House With Nobody In It

click to enlarge

Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track

I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.

I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute

And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.

I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;

That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.

I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;

For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.

This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,

And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.

It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;

But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.

If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid

I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.

I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be

And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.

Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,

Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.

But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone

For the lack of something within it that it has never known.

But a house that has done what a house should do, a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,

A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,

Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.

So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track

I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,

Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,

For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.

~ The House with Nobody In It : Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)

Nobody Left To Love Me

Someone always leaving
and never coming back.
The wooden houses left too long abandoned
to turn old and gray.

Weeds pushing apart......
Trees gone wild,
Fields taking over.
Shredded curtains blowing in the wind.

Beams of weathered wood......
No longer able to hold in
The soft heartbeat of Home.

Unknown

Nobody Left To Love Me

Someone always leaving
and never coming back.
The wooden houses left too long abandoned
to turn old and gray.

Weeds pushing apart . . .
Trees gone wild,
Fields taking over
Shredded curtains blowing in the wind.

Beams of weathered wood . . .
No longer able to hold in
The soft heartbeat of Home.

Nobody Left To Love Me

Someone always leaving
and never coming back.
The wooden houses left too long abandoned
to turn old and gray.

Weeds pushing apart . . .
Trees gone wild,
Fields taking over
Shredded curtains blowing in the wind.

Beams of weathered wood . . .

No longer able to hold in
The soft heartbeat of Home.

The House With Nobody In It

click to enlarge

Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track

I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.

I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute

And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.

I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;

That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.

I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;

For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.

This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,

And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.

It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;

But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.

If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid

I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.

I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be

And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.

Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,

Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.

But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone

For the lack of something within it that it has never known.

But a house that has done what a house should do,a house that has sheltered life,

That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,

A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,

Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.

So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track

I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,

Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,

For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.

~The House with Nobody In It Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)