The old home on the hillside waits, watching through the trees,
The roof is rusty reddish brown, the walls are cracked and grey,
Timbers rot in many places where the paint has peeled away
My Gran lived there for years, when the world was young and gay
Now my footsteps echoed loudly, inside an empty space
'Cause no one comes to visit like they did in Grandma's day
The new house built beside the road, is the owners pride and joy
Has all the latest gadgets, plus some wondrous kitchen toys'
It has not yet grown the atmosphere of that hillside home
A living place of safety,for when the heart has ceased to roam.
At the old home on the hillside is the place I like to be
It holds a store of memories from my young days, wild and free
It has the greatest outlook from wide verandahs all around
It absorbed the noise that children make, all their happy sounds.
Now I stand alone and listen, there is the silence, loud and clear
Only memories for companionship, and all from yesteryear
Author notes
Sadly, many 'old homes' are left to fall into ruin for 'economic reasons'.
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This is beautiful Bob, I love to go back in time ... seems they were hard times , but loving times...
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Thanks Mary. Life was hard, but there was a general attitude of caring and sharing to compensate for the harshness of life. We seem to have lost a lot of that, as society progressed to our present state of throw away. It's a shame that we can't go back to caring and sharing, even with today's technical advances.
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definitely no place like home... a rather melancholic piece from you. And I find a certain scent or notion will set off memories of my youth as well... enjoyed mate
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Thank you my friend, for your comments and for your thoughts. When I go to Coona shopping I see an old home on a hillside, deserted and falling slowly to pieces. A nice brick house has been built close to the road. This poem is my thoughts about the old home, taken from my memories of other places I have lived.
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Well penned !
Thanks for sharing your memories Bob
A great write...a joy to read
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Thanks Julie, These old homes are magical places to visit. Even the spiders make room for you to wander around. I have been in a couple that are still fully furnished, even though they have been deserted for 50 years or more. Wonderful places.
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Lovely BOB! I look around me today , houses like pidgeon coups going up on every spare piece of land.No Character, no warmth and no smiles, I like houses to be homes . Living breathing memories are stored in their walls... Excellent...mal
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Thanks for your visit and comments. I wonder will the newer brick versions of farm houses hold memories like the old homes, or will the memories leave with the occupants.
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This is a wonderful poem, evoking memories of days long gone but never forgotten.
Over here in the UK the 'old homes' are not left to fall into ruin, they're demolished to enable yet another modern eyesore (known as apartment blocks) to be erected.
My favourite part is verse 3 where the differences between 'old' and 'modern' are visibly displayed.
Well done my friend, very well done indeed.
Lawrie
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Thank you for your visit and comment, Lawrie. The 'old home' in this poem is in a rural situation where a new brick building is more in keeping with the apparent success of the property. The 'old homes' were usually all timber construction and were placed to give the occupants a view, air circulation and easy access to the majority of the property from the house itself. Motorised transport means the new home should have easy access to the road leading to the nearest pub, the school bus, the mailman and the social aspects of a town.
The charm, the atmosphere and the ability of the old home to be part of the scene are the things that I always love when I visit one of these old places. Sadly, they are slowly vanishing into the earth from which they came.
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Lovely poignant poem Bob. Thanks for sharing!
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Thanks John. I think I must be getting old or something. I remember a lot of good things from an era now gone.
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Well Done
As I approach my 7th decade, I am so very attracted to "yester-years" charms in today's world. I appreciate your write and admire your ability to capture all of it in such a small space!
Thanks for letting me visit "Gran's" place with you!
bj
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Thank you, my friend, for sharing with me the peaceful tranquility of yesteryear. I am in my 76th year and have fond memories of the friendliness I encountered so often in those days. Times were hard, but friendship was free.
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