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Night Owl Poetry – Dorinda Duclos

~ "The silence of the night awakens my soul"

Night Owl Poetry – Dorinda Duclos

Tag Archives: house

The House On Grayson Place (The Disappearance)

18 Thursday Jan 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in Poems, Poetry

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

#poetry, dorindaduclos.com, empty, fear, Grayson Place, house, Night Owl Poetry, poems, strange, The Disappearance, woman, writing


Remember the house on Grayson Place

Not quite sure just where it’s gone

It appears, now, to be an empty space

Perhaps it was never there, all along

A pile of grassy dirt lays claim

To the lot, where it once stood

The neighborhood’s never been the same

Not quite sure it really should

Remind us, of the woman, who

We could hear, from dawn til dusk

Her howling shrill, would pierce right though

Ever long, and rather brusque

We knew better than to get too near

Strange things happened much too fast

How she filled us with this dreadful fear

A woman, who was marked, an outcast

 

Part One can be found here

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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The House on Grayson Place ~ #poetry

15 Monday Jan 2018

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in Poems, Poetry

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

#poetry, dorindaduclos.com, Grayson Place, help, house, maids, nasty, Night Owl Poetry, old hag, photograph, poems, staff, Stories, writing


Hurry up, she’d always say

Having all the time in the world

Speaking curtly to everyone

She watched, as they unfurled

Making sure the laundry was folded

And the beds, all properly made

Vacuuming carpets completely

Ne’er forgetting to dust the lampshade

She held them all accountable

They’d cower, at the look on her face

Making sure they were tormented

In this house on Grayson Place

Stories are still told about her

How nasty she was to her staff

Yet, no one really knew of her existence

She’s just a woman, in a photograph

 

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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#FridayFantasy ~ The Broccoli Tree – #whimsical #dark #poetry

04 Friday Aug 2017

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in Friday Fantasy, Poems, Poetry

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

#poetry, broccoli, death, dorindaduclos.com, fantasy, Follow, Friday Fantasy, happy, house, Night Owl Poetry, poems, sunsets, tree, whimsical, writing


Imagine how our life would be

If we all lived in a broccoli tree

On top of the stalk, our house would sit

Oh, can you just imagine it?!

Beautiful sunsets, out our backdoor

Who could ask for anything more!

Follow me, I’ll pave the way

For you to come, perhaps to stay

The light is always on, you’ll see

Just how happy you can be

Hurry now, no time to waste

But remember, you must never taste

For if you eat from the broccoli tree

The house will fall, and dead you’ll be

 

© Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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The Place Someone Called Home – #NaPoWriMo #poetry

01 Saturday Apr 2017

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in #NaPoWriMo, Poems, Poetry

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

#NaPoWriMo, #poetry, Day 1, dorindaduclos.com, explore, fantasy, haunted, house, National Poetry Month, Night Owl Poetry, poems, spirit, story, writing


Somewhere near the center

In a town much like your own

Lurking in the shadows, is

The place someone called home

 

Graffiti paints the outside

Where once the stone stood proud

Covered over by nature’s roar

Standing alone, now, in a crowd

 

Of wooden barriers hiding

Branches and trees converge

Should you find an entrance

I do hope you’ll soon emerge

 

For town folk tell the story

Of a spirit, there’s no doubt

Who lures you to explore within

But never lets you out

 

 

 

©Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Photo via Pixabay CC0

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No One Home ~ #ThursdayDoors #poetry

17 Thursday Nov 2016

Posted by Dorinda Duclos in Photography, Poems, Poetry, Thursday Doors

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

#poetry, #ThursdayDoors, birdhouse, dorindaduclos.com, house, Laurelwood Arboretum, miniature, nature, Night Owl Poetry, ornament, poems, small, trees

img_2928
Who could live inside this house?

Perhaps it’s meant, for a wee mouse

No, even he would be too big

To sit upon the tiny twig

That leads up to the open door

My finger fits, but nothing more

I can’t imagine what could be

Inside this house, upon this tree

I could knock, then wait a few

I guess it’s something I could do

Knock, knock, knock, there’s no reply

Giving up, I heave a sigh

Maybe it’s just here for show

And there really is no one to know

 

Author’s note:  My husband found this little ornament hanging on a tree in one of my favorite places, Laurelwood Arboretum.  Someone had a sense of humor!

 

Photo and poem ©2016 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved

 

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