HOME | DD

Description
As a monument to the masons who built her, this home, of over a 100 years still stands in beauty and grace. Located on the west edge of a valley, the view from the second story would be breathtaking, as the sun rose.

While the home is a ruin and no longer livable, it continues to speak of the present, past.

(A rework of an older image to enhance the brooding nature of the clouds)

This house belonged to Mr. James J. Dougall. Mr. Dougall built this stone house with a matchless view overlooking the whole valley. He named his farm "Hillside". The Dougalls lived in the house until 1919. Various other families lived in the house up until the 1950's or 60's.

With Gratitude I add the following from

yabbles

future of the past-

the air is stale, the light is dim
still its not hard to see
that once upon a time this house
it was the place to be

walls that once were whitewashed
are now a sooty grey
muralled ceiling reveals slats
where plaster's given way

ornate molding trimming the base
around the chandelier
with cobwebbed tapers half way burnt
on every crystalled tier

empty shelves where novels lived
covered with dirty crust
now are homes to mice and rats
and bunnies made of dust

the marble floors once used to shine
in a majestic way
it has been many years now since
they've seen the light of day

there are portraits still left hanging
though most faded and torn
depicting scenes of men and women
their expressions forlorn

perhaps they knew what was to come
of what things were to be
did they see in their minds' eyes
these things in front of me?

red velvet drapes have fallen down
french doors come out of hiding
showing the dead atrium
with dry fount residing

wicker chairs now skeletal forms
'round table made of stone
half the glass panes broken out
flowers no longer grown

perhaps lords sat with ladies here
to share a pot of tea
or rather did they pass the time with
a snifter of brandy?

only ivy flourishes here
it splays across the walk
this empty shell of memories
if only walls could talk

what would they say, what do they know?
my head with questions swells
if i could get the ghosts to speak
would they their secrets tell?

answers to my ponderances
its clear i'll never know
minute traces of lives once lived
are all thats left to show

the way thing were in times gone by
of things not meant to last
this place of once upon a time
this future of the past

mcs2000

Description
As a monument to the masons who built her, this home, of over a 100 years still stands in beauty and grace. Located on the west edge of a valley, the view from the second story would be breathtaking, as the sun rose.

While the home is a ruin and no longer livable, it continues to speak of the present, past.

(A rework of an older image to enhance the brooding nature of the clouds)

This house belonged to Mr. James J. Dougall. Mr. Dougall built this stone house with a matchless view overlooking the whole valley. He named his farm "Hillside". The Dougalls lived in the house until 1919. Various other families lived in the house up until the 1950's or 60's.

With Gratitude I add the following from

yabbles

future of the past-

the air is stale, the light is dim
still its not hard to see
that once upon a time this house
it was the place to be

walls that once were whitewashed
are now a sooty grey
muralled ceiling reveals slats
where plaster's given way

ornate molding trimming the base
around the chandelier
with cobwebbed tapers half way burnt
on every crystalled tier

empty shelves where novels lived
covered with dirty crust
now are homes to mice and rats
and bunnies made of dust

the marble floors once used to shine
in a majestic way
it has been many years now since
they've seen the light of day

there are portraits still left hanging
though most faded and torn
depicting scenes of men and women
their expressions forlorn

perhaps they knew what was to come
of what things were to be
did they see in their minds' eyes
these things in front of me?

red velvet drapes have fallen down
french doors come out of hiding
showing the dead atrium
with dry fount residing

wicker chairs now skeletal forms
'round table made of stone
half the glass panes broken out
flowers no longer grown

perhaps lords sat with ladies here
to share a pot of tea
or rather did they pass the time with
a snifter of brandy?

only ivy flourishes here
it splays across the walk
this empty shell of memories
if only walls could talk

what would they say, what do they know?
my head with questions swells
if i could get the ghosts to speak
would they their secrets tell?

answers to my ponderances
its clear i'll never know
minute traces of lives once lived
are all thats left to show

the way thing were in times gone by
of things not meant to last
this place of once upon a time
this future of the past

mcs2000