Visit blogadda.com to discover Indian blogs Head in Clouds, Feet on Ground: The Old House: A poem

Friday, 7 November 2025

The Old House: A poem

 

I visited the old house today,

The windows glazed over with dust.

The plaster peeling

Seepage here and there

Rubbish strewn about

The wiring loose in places,

The plumbing a bit off.

The patina of Time is not attractive.

I came here with wonder,

Eyes full of dreams.

I built a home in this house,

Filled it with laughter,

The gurgles of children,

The pattering feet.

I added storage,

A place for everything.

The House embraced it all.

Now it creaks and seeps.

Accusingly it weeps;

“You left me,” it says,

“Others occupied me,

Doing as they pleased,

Their comfort wreaked havoc

On me.

“You come and paint me from time to time

Add some plaster, scrub away the grime,

And leave again, glad

That I seem all right.

You don’t see I am sad,

 Giving up a little every year.

They say I look fine

For my vintage.

“But you! You should know

You lived in me after all!

Lizards dart out now and then

Mostly hidden.

I am tired now.

“So much wrong with me.

Maybe it would be better

To demolish me and start over

Brick by brick,

Or cell by cell?”


This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon 2025

7 comments:

  1. This though sad is a situation with all old homes.Sometimes we do what can be done.Very insightful.Visiting from the half marathon.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Houses hold memories and have feelings too. Your poem is really poignant.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Such a straight-from-the-heart poem. I can so relate to it with old buildings being redeveloped in my neighbourhood.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Such a lovely piece — I really enjoyed how the old house becomes a whole world in your words.

    ReplyDelete
  5. The sad house is talking and complaining to the owner- very interesting concept and holds ground till the end! Every house has a soul and recites a story… I do believe in that!

    ReplyDelete
  6. A beautiful and nostalgic poem! This is so true of old houses. When my ancestral home was brought down, I remember being heartbroken!

    ReplyDelete
  7. The poem beautifully captures how houses, like people, carry the weight of love and loss within their walls.

    ReplyDelete