Poetry by: Gary
Park House History: A Poem
I made this building for her, so she would live with me and be with me as I took on the earth,
Our home wasn’t perfect, it croaked, but we raised four lovely girls for whatever it’s worth.
Then, our Maudie became sick and sicker and she was dying, we blamed ourselves,
We buried her in this miserable town and zoomed for Allegan, our past we have to delve.
I bought this place from a pair of grieving parents, I didn’t have anybody to care for,
My restaurant was less than impressive, but customers came in, always asking for more.
I bought this place and turned it into an antique store, being somewhat foolish with what I did,
I sold it soon, they, similar to a vulture, placed a nice bid.
I made it a boarding house, prosperous and great.
That’s nothing, I bought it and made it a summer hotel, so go and wait.
Hold on, some of us used it as a private house……
Collective pfft! You sound like a pest, mouse.
Come now, let’s just focus on rebuilding this great place and making it more spacious,
I mean, who wouldn’t want this place to be a bit more, beautiful and gracious?
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Me, The Park House Inn
I open my eyes,
His proud build, holding his wife,
I took his young Maude.
He left me his tears,
A restaurant owner bought me,
My gut filled with smoke,
Another bought me,
His presence cracked me open,
He said it was love,
His shoes clawed my floor,
His cane kicked my walls, the jerk,
I squeaked and he left,
Then, like a switch, dark,
I was a sad lonely dog,
I was loyal, alone.
Pitter-pat, again
There is life in me, nice life
It’s good, I like it.
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Dare You, A Park House Poem
A sunny room, facing a blue-gray house
A spiral staircase, leading to an attic bedroom,
A little ghost girl teases the guests to let them know she is here,
The building creaks with age,
The pine in the floor shines with polish,
The building smells of lilac,
Filled to the brim with knowledge and history.
The paint is as strong as metal
Which is to say, it’s so bright one could see it from the moon,
There are secrets, sure, but one really has to look for them.
But with money like an all-in poker game,
The one who reads this, could possibly visit the Park House Inn and stay there,
So, Reader, is your curiosity biting with it’s snake-like fangs, begging you to go?
Or are you scared of a little history buff?
I made this building for her, so she would live with me and be with me as I took on the earth,
Our home wasn’t perfect, it croaked, but we raised four lovely girls for whatever it’s worth.
Then, our Maudie became sick and sicker and she was dying, we blamed ourselves,
We buried her in this miserable town and zoomed for Allegan, our past we have to delve.
I bought this place from a pair of grieving parents, I didn’t have anybody to care for,
My restaurant was less than impressive, but customers came in, always asking for more.
I bought this place and turned it into an antique store, being somewhat foolish with what I did,
I sold it soon, they, similar to a vulture, placed a nice bid.
I made it a boarding house, prosperous and great.
That’s nothing, I bought it and made it a summer hotel, so go and wait.
Hold on, some of us used it as a private house……
Collective pfft! You sound like a pest, mouse.
Come now, let’s just focus on rebuilding this great place and making it more spacious,
I mean, who wouldn’t want this place to be a bit more, beautiful and gracious?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Me, The Park House Inn
I open my eyes,
His proud build, holding his wife,
I took his young Maude.
He left me his tears,
A restaurant owner bought me,
My gut filled with smoke,
Another bought me,
His presence cracked me open,
He said it was love,
His shoes clawed my floor,
His cane kicked my walls, the jerk,
I squeaked and he left,
Then, like a switch, dark,
I was a sad lonely dog,
I was loyal, alone.
Pitter-pat, again
There is life in me, nice life
It’s good, I like it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dare You, A Park House Poem
A sunny room, facing a blue-gray house
A spiral staircase, leading to an attic bedroom,
A little ghost girl teases the guests to let them know she is here,
The building creaks with age,
The pine in the floor shines with polish,
The building smells of lilac,
Filled to the brim with knowledge and history.
The paint is as strong as metal
Which is to say, it’s so bright one could see it from the moon,
There are secrets, sure, but one really has to look for them.
But with money like an all-in poker game,
The one who reads this, could possibly visit the Park House Inn and stay there,
So, Reader, is your curiosity biting with it’s snake-like fangs, begging you to go?
Or are you scared of a little history buff?