Array ( [sid] => 183715 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => We Built A Mansion [time] => 2016-11-03 12:42:36 [hometext] => [bodytext] =>

We Built A Mansion
Born from many of my dreams
Built by the sweat of my brow
With the help of my father/'/s
Know how
The basement stands so tall and proud
Most of the worlds business goes on down there
Not so loud but always a crowd
Movers and shakers
Deals being done
You can find all kinds there
Even the Quakers
The hardcore moneymakers
As you walk up the stairs
The air is so much cleaner there
Made to admire
Nothing for sale or to acquire
Beautifully furnished
So serene, always clean
Just there to tour
And nothing more
A walk up the other stairs
Is a sight to see
Only for my family and me
I share the space
With my mom and pop
It/'/s so big, all the kids
Come to play, skip and hop.
There is even a kitchen
Way up top
All kinds of cookies and candies
Even the kids gum drops
I try not to be mean
But I/'/m a stickler
So it must be kept really clean
Up into the attic
It/'/s so peaceful and serene
I often go there
You know, just to be free
There is a stairway
That leads to a locked door
Only God has its key
No, not even me.
Only the chosen can open the door
Once you walk up those stairs
Open the door
You can/'/t come back anymore
My father last November
Walked those same stairs
God gave him the key
Sometimes I wish it was me
Gone for now
He followed the light
Off to a better place
His future forever
Shall shine bright



Dedicated to my father........ 6/4/34 to 11/7/15
From a calming dream I often have. [comments] => 5 [counter] => 378 [topic] => 21 [informant] => jamesstockdale [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems ) Your Poetry Dot Com - We Built A Mansion


We Built A Mansion
Date: Thursday, 3rd November 2016 @ 12:42:36 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: jamesstockdale


We Built A Mansion
Born from many of my dreams
Built by the sweat of my brow
With the help of my father/'/s
Know how
The basement stands so tall and proud
Most of the worlds business goes on down there
Not so loud but always a crowd
Movers and shakers
Deals being done
You can find all kinds there
Even the Quakers
The hardcore moneymakers
As you walk up the stairs
The air is so much cleaner there
Made to admire
Nothing for sale or to acquire
Beautifully furnished
So serene, always clean
Just there to tour
And nothing more
A walk up the other stairs
Is a sight to see
Only for my family and me
I share the space
With my mom and pop
It/'/s so big, all the kids
Come to play, skip and hop.
There is even a kitchen
Way up top
All kinds of cookies and candies
Even the kids gum drops
I try not to be mean
But I/'/m a stickler
So it must be kept really clean
Up into the attic
It/'/s so peaceful and serene
I often go there
You know, just to be free
There is a stairway
That leads to a locked door
Only God has its key
No, not even me.
Only the chosen can open the door
Once you walk up those stairs
Open the door
You can/'/t come back anymore
My father last November
Walked those same stairs
God gave him the key
Sometimes I wish it was me
Gone for now
He followed the light
Off to a better place
His future forever
Shall shine bright



Dedicated to my father........ 6/4/34 to 11/7/15
From a calming dream I often have.

This poem is Copyright © jamesstockdale


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