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Death Poems About House

House death poems and poems about death for House. Read and share these heartfelt House death poems with loved ones, friends and family members. Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for non-death related poems or House Poems.

Poem Details | by Timothy Hicks |
Categories: blue, childhood, dad, father son, grief, identity, innocence,

The Man of the House

You left without saying goodbye
and now I'll never know what it was like,
to have you teach me, eye to eye.
You left without saying goodbye.
Now who will show me how to ride a bike
or chide me when I tell a lie?
You left without saying goodbye
and now I'll never know what it was like.



NOTE: Fictional.

Yet again, another old poem, but have some newer ones in the back-burner. There are so many things to write about, if only one is in the mood and state of mind to organize those thoughts into something tangible and readable.


Poem Details | by HEATHER ROE |
Categories: death, fear, holiday, urban, house, house,

IN A HOUSE OF DARKNESS

In a house of darkness
you should not hear a sound
but while I lye here in my bed
there's noises all around.
Doors are squeaking 
floors are creaking, 
shutters banging loud.
The wind is blowing,
voices flowing,
rain is pouring down.
 
In a house of darkness
you should not see a thing
but while the lightning strikes, 
everything is plain.
Shadows dancing on the wall, 
a lady walking in the hall, 
a child playing with a ball, 
a man that had a bloody saw
but to someone, I cannot call, 
for there's no one here, 
no one at all.

BY HEATHER ROE

Poem Details | by Andrea Dietrich |
Categories: death,

In the House of Death

In a house too huge for them to maintain, a man hunched over with back pain lives with a disabled daughter and his very elderly wife. A recent heart attack has left her frailer and meaner. The doctor “says” she will die. Not willing to get up or walk for years, she had atrophied. Refusing sponge baths, meds, or a private nurse, she screams for her ill spouse whose little strength does little good. Time is crawling on the doomsday clock: two minutes to midnight. Feb. 18, 2018 For Emile Pinet's the doomsday clock: two minutes to midnight contest

Poem Details | by Charlotte Zuzak |
Categories: death, people, sad, house, house,

Lettie Died

Lettie died, the house is empty,
No one in the family left.
Flowered sheets once used as curtains
Faded now by brilliant sunlight
Rot and crumble to the floor.
Beer and Coke cans thrown at windows,
No one seems to care;
The lock is broken, all may enter
Look! the bed where Lettie died!
The front porch sags where Lettie sat
Passing all her summer days
Diabetic and overweight,
Withdrew from life when Mama died.
Noisy tots on tricycles
Pump their legs to get on by;
The house of ghosts, or so says Grandma,
Restless souls who cannot sleep.


Poem Details | by Charles Barry |
Categories: absence, death, house,

The Stain of Death

The Stain of Death

Going into that terrible place
A living dust-bin, black bags 
With clothes and books inside
No sign of individuality
Packs and stacks of anonymity
Nothing there to define her personality
But a big stain of vomit on the inside of the toilet
There she made her mark in her last hours
Nothing else in her house of horrors  that lets you know 
She ever lived there
And even that vile stain is only a sign that 
She died there



Poem Details | by Laura Leiser |
Categories: baby, betrayal, death,

Human Horror House

What of life? What of death? Clinical murder under investigation.
With cruel calculation, the doctor splits the fetus into sections.
A "little boy's" leg jerks reflexively, a helpless human specimen.
Dreaming of riches, she coldly mutilates, a chilling death sentence.






Written on 9/21/2015















Poem Details | by Annalee Pierce |
Categories: death

Ode to Dobby the House Elf

Rest in peace, you loyal elf
You surely will be missed
You were shining in our darkest hour, a candle 
Lit despite the storm
We buried you beneath the sand
Where you reside so
Tranquilly
 Because in your last moments, you were free
Free at last

Poem Details | by Courtney Courtney |
Categories: beauty, character, death, death of a friend, depression, desire, faith, family, farewell, fear, god, goodbye, grave, happy, heaven, holiday, home, house, husband, image, inspiration, inspirational, leaving, loneliness, lonely, longing, lost love, love, marriage, men, miss you, missing, missing you, pain, passion, patriotic, prayer,

Last Kiss

Open your eyes to the ever turning skies 
I want to here with me through the night 
My heart yearns into your soul 
Burning as if newly lit coal 
I bravely submerg the embers 
That the time I have can be spent with you 
And I remember each kiss every moment 
I was caught in your love that for just this day I remember 
So what happened was a chance for your love 
A time that I kept in a locket tied with a kiss 
 I wanted you to feel, to love, to slumber 
And to awake in my arms with that times kept bliss 
I lay silient in an umber

Poem Details | by Miche Ulman |
Categories: abuse, addiction, anger, betrayal, body, bullying, childhood, cry, dad, dark, death, depression, eulogy, evil, family, farewell, father, fear, feelings, grave, grief, growing up, hate, heartbroken, horror, house, jealousy, loneliness, loss, lost, me, murder, mystery, night, pain, parents, sad, sin, smile, society, sorrow, stress, suicide,

Family Matters

In the attic, above wooden floor,
through the hallway of psychotic, locks upon my door,
near the broken window and glass of the sore,
hiding in the shadows,
bloodstains on the wall.

 Number nine,
house at the end of the street,
where lights are low,
where silent never sleep.

Poem Details | by Ken Duddle |
Categories: death, house, places,

The Lady

In the light of the ghostly moon Through the whispering of the trees The old house is deadly quiet As the Lady walks the night. The dark house oversees With wise and open eyes The still graveyard sleeps on. As the Lady walks the night. Many secrets are to be found Under the gravestones so cold But no one dares to ask why The Lady walks the night.

Poem Details | by Matt Forshay |
Categories: death, horror,

The Haunted House

As the staircases creak
The noise echoes and scares
Worried spirits may haunt and sneak

Hearing the drip drop
Afraid it's not the rain 
That comes from all around

Feeling a chill in the air
It's not the weather outside
Is it spirits to bring fear

Then comes the night
Feel a hand's cold touch
There's no one in sight

The hand reaching out
It must be a demon
You begin to shout

Behind you eyes appear
It must be a Spector in the dark
You can see no body there

Consumed by fright
Run while screaming 
From this house that night

Poem Details | by Katie Telling |
Categories: grave, home,

House Fire

Ashes drift
to the ground
like black snow,
and smoke curls
upward from
the rubble like
ghostly figures
emerging from the
grave.
A skeleton now looms
in the clearing,
surrounded by heaps
of its charred flesh.

Poem Details | by TAMMY REAMS |
Categories: body, dark, death, destiny, freedom, imagery, journey,

Glass House 'R I P'

Shattered and cracked this house is but a shack
too much light as it tries to attack the sun burning upon my back

No door to enter or even a window in the center
no form of escape as the earth starts to quake

Millions of pieces flutter all around 
cutting me deeper as they rest upon the ground

With pain I have endured the time is growing near
for freedom at last I have found a cure

Resting beneath the ground 
my headstone reads ' I'm Homeward Bound.'

Contest: Your best poem with metaphors
Sponsored by: Silent One    Placed 7th
 
8/8/ copyright 2015
Contest Sponsored by: Rob Carmack  'Screwed VI'   Placed 6th

Poem Details | by Gwendolen Song |
Categories: absence, eulogy, poverty,

The Old House on Hoover Street

~THE OLD HOUSE ON HOOVER STREET~

There it sat empty and sad
Windows shattered and the bottom one boarded up
There it sat helpless and alone
No one there to protect its contents
A shabby two story on one of the most sinful streets in these parts
A dilapidated shack with its heart ripped out
Who dare go there now but demons and bats?
Why would anyone want to step foot into this hell hole of a trap?
Bring the bulldozers in I say!
Bull doze this bad memory of someone’s life! 
Rats are scampering about on its main floor
Bulldoze the pain of this once old house
Allow someone to rebuild another with a fresh new dream

Gwendolen Rix
9-1-14

Poem Details | by JAN ALLISON |
Categories: bereavement, house, memory, parents,

TRYING TO HOLD ON TO THE PAST

Mum, I never dreamed our lives would be so tough I want to run away, I’ve just about had enough Once you had a husband and you were a wife Now we’re clearing out relics of your life For six months now you’ve been in a home Dad has passed away but you are never alone Now the house has been sold and we must clear All those precious things you once held so dear We’ve got to be strong and see it right through Sadly it’s a difficult job we have got to do We cannot continue to hold onto the past Still our memories remain and forever will last 29th August 2015

Poem Details | by Autumn Patrick |
Categories: conflict, death, hate, house,

The Crucible

Evil is among them,
Or so it truly seems.
Lies afflicting witches,
Is what holds the town of Salem at bay.

Abigail's mistake quickly turns into a terrible mess,
that leads to eternal damnation.
They tell the town that witches are among them,
to gain privileges that others cannot.

John and his wife have kept a cold house, 
because of John's choice to lay with another.

The lies continue for days and days, 
and people in the town of Salem even start to hang.
Abigail's lie leads her to control the town,
But what she doesn't know now is that she will eventually go down.

Poem Details | by Teddy Kimathi |
Categories: dark, death, fear, horror, house, imagery, violence,

The Locked Room II

Everyone knows where the key is….
Yes, the key to open the door that separates
vile darkness from ordinary darkness,
when the lights are out. 

No one wants to open the door.
No one is brave enough to open up a history
that ought to be undisturbed,
in its pristine state.

The exorcists have blessed water,
that they intend to sprinkle on the room’s walls,
which once was sprinkled with blood,
akin to a slaughterhouse. The room smelled
of blood, death and violence.

Whenever they get close,
the walls groan,
as though they are alive. Disturbing mist
envelops their feet, as whispers
ooze out.

The room seems to insist
it wants to be locked….forever!

Poem Details | by Tanner Anderson |
Categories: cry, death, depression, emotions, writing,

Empty House

Searching for a message, one that I could only see.
I looked in the closet, hoping for a piece of me.
Digging through a wreckage looking for the key.
Walking down these hallways, dark and incomplete.
Faded paint and broken glass, blood stains cover the floor.
Dead grass across a lawn filled with empty spaces.
The Clouds above grow closer, as Darkness takes over day.
Memories fade as the cold sets in.
Alone and Desperate for some hope and faith.
We die without knowing of our true fate.

Poem Details | by CAROL ANN CROWLEY |
Categories: death,

Ghost In The House

One night while sitting in my home
I thought I heard someone moan
Am I hearing things cause Im alone
But then a picture fell off my shelf
Just a coincidence,I told mysef
Now I hear footsteps outside my door
Then a  creaking on my bedroom floor
I see her now standing next to me
I close my eyes, no this cannot be
All dressed in red and quite dead
As she hovers next to my bed
I hear her whisper in my ear
Take my hand, come my dear
You really have nothing to fear
I let out a scream filled with fright
And then she vanished into the night.


carolann crowley  9/5/2019


Poem Details | by Mona Karaki |
Categories: courage, death, flower, garden, home, house, visionary,

Soldier

With strong feet i step into the battlefield
A gun in my hand behind gods shield 
Leaving the dearest to my heart behind
I see the flowers at the side of the mourning streets
A part burned a part of them weeps
Sounds of thunder fall down from the sky

But i keep on moving with my eyes wide open 
trying to keep my head up high


At some point i remember the smell of peace
At home in my garden where birds used to sing

I'll face death just to be born again
I will kill death with my own bare hands if i can

And if death might lay me down for an endless sleep

I'll wake up in my garden right at the centre of my dreams

And death in both ways i will defeat






Poem Details | by Mydavolu Venkatasesha Sathyanarayana |
Categories: childhood, daughter, children, husband, mother, on work and working, people, sad, social, sympathy, uplifting,

OUR HOUSE MAID'S DAUGHTER

I looked one more time at the scar
on her pretty forehead.
Our house-maid’s sweet little daughter.
She is just four years old.

Endured many scares and black scars
along with mother, so bold
facing tantrums of sot-father.
She is just four years old.

Today came she with news to share.
With puerile fervor told
“Becomes bride my father’s sister!”
She is just four years old.

“He is as strong as a wild boar
good groom; not a drunkard.”
Shocked; saw those deeper inner scars.
She is just four years old.



Poem Details | by Timothy Barry |
Categories: absence, addiction, anger, bereavement, blue, confusion, dream, how i feel,

Our House

Sitting in a circle square
resolute to share our pain
life as kiddies was not fair
each salute did slice a vain

Dark denial was our training
both true and false fell deep
as the blows they came a raining
none of us did peep

The memories they start to heat 
like some old lava lake
as a gaggle we retreat
cause all we knew was fate

So now we have no room to land
no space to call our own
none of it was even planned
no place was ever home

See a plot of land just there
all emerald well defined
grant it lord and well be square
just like you were so kind

Poem Details | by William Robinson |
Categories: allegory, death, life, time, house, house,

THIS HOUSE OF MINE

This house of mine is getting old;
Its paint is chipped and peeling. 
The roof has leaks, the chimney leans,
And there are cracks across the ceiling.

Foundation's gone, the floor sags
Almost beyond repair.
This house of mine is falling down,
But, somehow, I don't care. 

This house has been subjected to
Abuse in many forms.
It stood the test for years and years,
And has weathered countless storms.

This house of mine is property
On which I can't improve.
This house of mine is getting old,
But, soon, I'm going to move.

Poem Details | by JAN ALLISON |
Categories: child, grief, house, sad,

Behind Closed Doors

On their wedding day
Carried across the threshold
Now nursery door is closed
Mother softly sobbing
Her newborn baby was stillborn

Such a sad sad sight 
Peeling paint, broken hinges
Couldn’t bear the memories
They had to move away
Crumbling relics of times gone by

Jan Allison
16th July 2014
Written for Door to a Wayra Contest Sponsored By Nette Onclaud
~Awarded 4th Place ~

Poem Details | by Joseph Jeremiah Naye |
Categories: eulogy,

The House of Chloe

Tambourines in the air,
Whistles and bustles in a 
 rhyme.
In the house of Chloe,
Melodies of the heart.
A reenactment in the farm house
 of old
  rhythms.

Grand mother's tongue in cheek,
She is gone,
Gone home to be with the lasses
Free from the world of the masses.
The house of Chloe never the same
 again.

Mirth and laughter gone through the 
 back door.
Enter the dragon with sternness  and 
 a rod.
Not to be spared for our scrawny behinds
 my mama.
The house of Chloe has changed course
 never the same again.