In a dark neglected corner
Where long forgotten memories roam
There stands a crumbling testament:
A house
Once called a home.

A testament to ages past
To waxing, waning sun and moon;
A stooping crouching testament
That sings
To history's tune.

Here in this spent and silent realm
Reflections rule with rampant time
Rooms once filled with joy and laughter
Now weep
With dust and grime.

Where proudly once a fire blazed
And leapt with warmth and playful mirth
A rubbled breast makes silent shrine
Now filled
With layered earth.

Where living beams of solid oak
That witnessed sounds of infant crying
Now lie infested torn by worms:
Rotten, dying.

While once manicured and tended lawns
Are now chocked and thickly brambled.
Here once bright flowers free to roam
On this
Canvas rambled.

But now devoid of children's cries
And the sounds of generations
The empty shell in silence stands

Poetry by Steve Hagget
Read 899 times
Written on 2007-01-13 at 12:57

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Zoya Zaidi
Very well put, sad and full of nostalgia. Reminds me of the poem 'Forsaken Garden'.
Well done Steve!
Love, Zoya

Hi Steve, long time no see! Glad to read you again. This poem has a wonderful nostalgic atmosphere to it. It reminds me of an old cottage in the woods where I used to live called Lorries Mill, now fallen into disrepair, where a local family lived for generations. It is known to me as a very romantic place I used to walk with my husband and small children. Full of memories of bygone times, sad and yet still standing. We cannot hold onto the past, but we must never forget what we had was good.

Smiling at you, wishing you a pleasant weekend,