The Listener's Home
by SilverCeltic Moon
Monday, February 27, 2006
Rated "G" by the Author.
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*Picture is of the house this poem was written about. Located in Colrain, MA. Near the MA/VT border ... about 50 minutes from where we live.
“ 'Is there anybody there?' said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
Of the forest's ferny floor:
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men”
..from the poem entitled "The Listeners" by W. De La Mare
The house stood on the side of the road
tilted and settling into the rocky ground
and its rock foundation - like a tired woman
sitting down after a long day of hard work and chores.
Next to it, separated by a catwalk
made just for the Nor’easters that New England
is famous for, was the quintessential red barn.
Its hayloft door hanging open like the tongue of a dog in July.
Stalls and rocky hard ground stood abandoned inside.
Silence grew instead of crops.
A crumbling silo, that was once tall and proud,
stood on an ailing farm that once was productive and cared for.
Who built that catwalk? Who fed the horses and cows
every morning before sunrise? Who tended to the chickens,
baled the hay, filled the silo and came into the kitchen of
the old white farmhouse at the end of the day, hungry for his dinner?
Who swept the floors of the large kitchen, gazed out the back door
looking to see if her husband was done with the morning chores yet and would
want some breakfast? Who stepped out onto the back porch and called
out that dinner was ready? Who took pride in her home?
Brushing away memories like cobwebs, we walked the land.
We stood at the door of the old barn, now tilting like a aged man without his cane,
and saw the evidence of hard work and pride that had been let go....
eerie in its silence as if it were waiting for a new life to begin.
We peered through the windows of the house.
Walls that once held plaster, showed the bones of the boards beneath.
The front porch sagged and the back porch had fallen to the ground in ruins.
The floors inside were sagging to the point that no one could walk on them.
We saw the remains of a rose printed wallpaper in one of the rooms.
We saw a once beautiful home that someone had built and lived in ...
reduced to the sad state now called “inhabitable” in the real estate listing.
A house, barn and outbuildings that could only be razed or burnt down now.
Sadness soaked the land and filled our nostrils.
Memories of its past life as a happy home
buzzed around us and filled us with longing.
We wished to go back in time to see it in its prime.
As we got into our car and backed out, we could almost see
the faces of the people, who once claimed the land and house home,
peering out at us and calling to us......“Come back!”, “Save us!”...”Stay!”.
Sadly, we could not.
SilverCelticMoon's Mystic Market
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|Reviewed by Lois Christensen
|Such a nice abandoned house. Maybe ghosts are present there now. I know a man who came from Rhode Island and he wants to move back to New Eng states in the future. Just a friend of mine, but I liked this poem very much. They were hard working people who lived there to have all those pets and animals, even a horse.************|
|Reviewed by Janet Bellinger
|You created a perfect setting for a haunted house. All those memories watching from the windows, as you so aptly put it.
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|I love the way you created and shared the ambiance through your verses. Thank you. Love and peace to you,
|Reviewed by Barbara Terry
|Chrissy said it best I think. "If only walls could talk...maybe some can." I like this very much tho. It does haunt the soul, and makes one lament for the ones that built this house and other buildings, now watching from Heaven as it crumbles. A very sad epithet for such a wonderful home.
I am ½ Irish, ¼ Scot, and ¼ Welsh. So I also have Celtic roots. Thnx for sharing this wonderful story that has now made this home once again immortal.
May the Lord Jesus bless you, and those whom you love, and be with you always, and at your side constantly. With much love in my heart, joy to the world, peace on earth, & ((((((((((MANY WONDERFUL SISTERLY HUGGGGSSSS)))))))))), your little den sister, Barbie
"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I have the right to be."
|Reviewed by Retta (Reindeer) Mckenzie
|Ah, this haunts the soul, excellently written, just brought back a few memories,
|Reviewed by jude forese
|excellent story tale ... superb imagery and atmosphere ...|
|Reviewed by Tinka Boukes
|Enjoyed this one....thanks!!
|Reviewed by Chrissy McVay
|I like this! If only walls could talk...maybe some can.|
|Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader)
|I've seen a lot of those derelect houses over the years. Oh the stories they could tell. A wonderful story poem.
|Reviewed by Peter Paton
|That dilapidated and crumbling house is meant for somebody Celtic
And once ensconed in it, the circle of life will take off again, as the Lion King said in the film !
Very atmospheric write
|Reviewed by Birgit and Roger Pratcher
|A most compelling write, so good to read!
Birgit and Roger
|Reviewed by Felix Perry
|It is so sad to see these old farmhouses abandoned by their owners and time. They have a history so rich and vast that it is such a shame to see them fall into dis repear, well said
|Reviewed by Mr. Ed
|We wished to go back in time to see it in its prime.
I often feel the same when I come upon such a forlorn place on my rural wanderings.
A truly powerful piece, SilverCeltic.
|Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner
Richly imaged, powerfully written; excellent!!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
|Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
|Incredible in every way; super job, Silver! BRAVA!
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D
|Reviewed by E T Waldron
|Silver, this is outstanding!I was there with you! superb images and mood. Such a bittersweet ending. Beautiful work!
|Reviewed by Debby Rosenberg
|haunting tale...very descriptive|