by Ted Kooser
(click on the title to read the remainder of the poem)
I read the above poem recently and thought immediately of the abandoned houses that haunt the back country roads in Maine. Their stories are palpable. Ted Kooser imagines one story, with an ominous tone, in a setting spiked with broken dishes and spines, boulders and leaky barns. His poem inspired me to revisit an old post and some pictures I’d taken long ago, and to write the following:
Once upon a time…
The house had good bones
its story still stirs the air
like a haunting whisper
Once upon a time…
Big house
little house
back house
barn
like vertebrae on a spine
skinned with a coat of cheerful yellow
crowned with a jaunty red roof
waving a welcome
with blue and white curtains
at its windows
Now, open windows are blank eyes
Dulled yellow paint
peels from bone-dry clapboards
the red roof bucks and heaves
a fractured spine
No bark echoes in this yard
No drying clothes dance in a soft spring breeze
No child’s laughter trills
Even the birds seem silent here
Look
Listen
In a gaping window
the dusty curtains flutter
like a broken sigh
There is no graveyard
for houses that die
Molly Hogan (c) 2017
If you’re interested in learning about the “big house, little house, back house, barn” architecture so evident in Maine, click here. If you’d like to read some more poetry at this week’s Poetry Friday Roundup, head over to A Year of Reading.
Nix the comfort zone 
Fascinating architectural history, used to perfection as poetry!
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I actually had some misconceptions about this architectural history, so I was glad I looked into it some more!
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Thanks for a first of the day vivid imagery of our Maine.
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These poems speak to me. I have a general fascination for abandoned farm houses and just houses in the middle of nowhere. I like the sound of feel of ‘abandon’ in the poem and that sort of eerie-ness .
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Wonderful images, the pics and in your poem, Molly. I love the ending and “like vertebrae on a spine”.
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Thanks, Linda!
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Property in my area is so ridiculously valuable that no abandoned houses stay that way for more than a moment before they’re knocked down and rebuilt. Good for the city, I’m sure, but it does feel like we lose out a bit on the history, mystery and poetry of these historic buildings.
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I do love the sense of mystery, but these wonderful old farmhouses decaying by the side of the road always make me sad.
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As part of my work, I am lucky enough to drive along lots of backroads and see lots of farm houses–both lived in and abandoned. Your poem (and Ted’s, too, of course) capture their haunting beauty and the secrets they seem to hold.
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Driving along back roads offers lots of poetic inspiration, doesn’t it? Thanks for stopping by and commenting.
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I enjoy imagining those stories, too. I love your poem! Ruth, thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
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Thanks, Ruth! These houses do set my imagination to work, creating all sorts of possible scenarios.
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Both poems are so poignant, Molly. I always wonder what they would say, if walls could talk.
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I always wonder what the walls would say, which is why I loved how Ted Kooser structured his poem. All those clues tell a story–a disturbing one.
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Ted and you have given us a powerful duo. Love them both, especially the ending: “There is no graveyard / for houses that die”
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Two powerful poems – very well matched. Your last two lines though… They got me. Wonderful sad.
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Ted Kooser is an all-time favorite. Have you read his Poetry Home Repair Manual? It’s full of practical poetic wisdom. I love your poignant, wistful poem. It reminds me of a house I used to pass on my way back to Orono from Rockport. I haven’t been that way in years, but the memory of that sad, abandoned house has stayed with me. Thanks for the bit of history, too!
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Thanks, Catherine. Guess what book I just ordered from Amazon? Thanks for the recommendation–this will be some perfect summer reading as time frees up for writing!
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Beautiful poem, though sad. It’s certainly fascinating to try to imagine the stories behind abandoned buildings. Your last line certainly packs an emotional punch. Enjoyed the Kooser poem, too, which was new to me. Fabulous post!
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Thanks, Jama. 🙂
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I have felt this same way in Maine. I came across a foundation once in way-northern Maine. Cottage roses still bloomed on either side of the door that opened toward the coast. The stairs were gone. The walls and roof were memories. But those roses still thrived. I wonder if the woman who planted them knew they would outlast her and her house.
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Your memory reminds me of a Kate Wolf song–The Lilac and the Apple Tree –have you ever heard it?
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I looked it up, and you’re right. She took a similar memory and wove it into a wonderful dialogue between the lilac and apple. It was another time. Such small houses in remote places. Very moving and poetic.
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Molly, I have a fascination with country settings and old homes. What you described is both haunting and sad. I have seen some of the old, abandoned farms in central NY but never heard of the architecture you describe. Great job!
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You nailed this poem….I’m from a similar area in western NY. The old houses and the old barns are sad and weepy. Beautiful job using Kooser’s poem as a mentor text. And, the photographs really illustrate the sadness. Well done. I love your poem….there is no graveyard for houses that die.
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Your poem took me on a journey of this old abandoned house, I could feel the curtains swaying and the paint peeling, and the lack of life surrounding it. Although, “There is no graveyard
for houses that die,” this old house and your poem have much life in them, for ones who will be open to it, thanks!
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Enjoyed your poem! All the story layered in the description, those hints of things we won’t know. My parents bought a decrepit farmhouse and fixed it up. Now it is back to being jaunty and welcoming!
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