Where No One Lives

I’ve posted this poem before, but I know some of you probably missed it. I wrote it after Sherry and I stopped to look at one of those old abandoned houses you see every now and then on the backroads, and even the highways, of Texas. Looking at the neglected, decaying house, I could see in the various fixtures the lives of those who had lived there….

Where No One Lives


Wind shrieks through broken window

A house where no one lives

Rusted wheel cries out an answer

From a well that no water gives


Leafless tree that once bore fruit

Alone in weed filled yard

Long since dead and barren

Lifeless limbs are grey and hard


Splintered door on rusted hinge

Sings a mournful song then closes

By the porch a broken trellis

Once filled with yellow roses


Porch swing sits against the wall

No chains to make it swing

No lovers or children to hold

When April brings the spring


Broken boards, once a home

Shelter no longer it gives

Tis but a pile of broken memories

This house where no one lives


Copyright © 1998 C. Maashburn


  1. Waynette said

    I like it. Very haunting. I can see the house

  2. Sherry Mashburn said

    Come on, people. You can’t tll me this poem doesn’t conjure up that deserted, dilapidated farmhouse out in the country you’ve driven by.

  3. lol, could we see a photo? 🙂 (ducking)

    Beautiful poem!

    • Actually, Yvonne, I have a framed copy of the poem in our living room, and it is next to a painting that very much fits the scene. I’ll see if I can take a picture of it. And I do understand the “ducking” reference. Yep, You’re a Mashburn! (smart ass!)

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