Stairs all over! This was how she measured her life.
One set led to the basement and that's where she did the wash.
Somedays it seemed that there must be a least a dozen people living there, instead of just her.
Another set went to the second floor where the bedrooms were.
She only used the one and stored things in the other two.
A third set of stairs went to the attic.
Very rarely did she use that set of steps. The things in the attic were not ever going to be used again. Her wedding dress hung there.
So did her first husband.
By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)
I wish I could build a stairway to the stars,
And climb up high away from all the noise and cars.
Wouldn't it be grand to dance on the moon beams?
I'm just a silly girl full of old songs and dreams.
Let's build a stairway to the stars where we can climb into the twinkling night,
And feel as light as a feather until we're out of sight.
By Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@comcast.net)
Stairs to Nowhere
Riding down that lonesome road,
I formed a cloudy image in my mind,
A home to cover those marble stairs
That fire or famine left behind.
It was a lovely house with columns graceful.
It had to be rich I bemused,
For that would speak to stairs of marble,
Pink and quarried, discolored, used.
And I thought some folks were born to climb
And others to step on down.
Where did these stairs to nowhere fit
In the history of my town?
So I asked some men around the square,
And heard haunting ghost stories of dances and crimes.
Once they had been of winding marble
Before debutantes floated down in their prime.
Through the years the legends grew,
The land going forfeit for taxes.
Marble stairs to nowhere stand,
With some story for all who will ask it.
By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)
Flights of Fancy
Fancy resided on the seventh floor,
And she trudged up the stairs every day.
The ancient elevator worked no more,
Demolition soon to be underway.
The neighborhood had grown very seedy,
Tenament buildings and litter-strewn streets,
Now called home by only the most needy,
Dismal place where defeat and squallor meet.
At first, Fancy didn’t mind the long climb,
Simply looking on it as exercise.
She was forced to take one step at a time,
Unable to reach her home, otherwise.
One day, climbing the endless flights of stairs,
She felt a sharp pain and shortness of breath.
The dog died on those stairs, gasping for air -
The vet wrote “exertion” as cause of death.
By RickMack (Rmrickmack@aol.com)
The worn stone steps spiraled downward
Deep into the bottomless depths of the castle
Narrow they were with barely room to maneuver
No handrail to hold and nothing to cling to.
You'd never know the stairs were there
Hidden in a niche in the marbled walls
Pressing a lever the door swung open
Beckoning us to the steep gloom below.
Single file we stepped down and around
Circling and clinging to damp stone walls
Finally reaching the dark-shrouded pit
Of a dirt-floor room equipped with shackles.
We turned about and made our way up
Single file climbing again in circles
Winding our way to the top of the stairs
Back to the sun-drenched marble room.
(This describes a mansion I visited in northern England that had a stone spiral staircase descending to a prison room.)
By Frannie (Frannie516@comcast.net)
There at the end of the hall,
thirteen steep and narrow steps,
ground floor to the second and third,
then little short one to the attic.
Old tall house, built way back when,
front columns were lost in the war,
built by Colonel Jim,
palattial estate of family.
Plaster cracked, wall paper stained,
eeriest place you ever have been.
As a child we were told,
misbehave and to the attic you will go.
Crazy Zelma and Uncle Frank, supposedly are up there,
both died two hundred years ago.
At night, sounds scary as can be.
even my dad, a brave soul, would not go up there at night.
Stairs, oh those old stairs, creaky as they were;
stories and rumors always did abound;
hospital, cathouse, crooks hiding there,
Colonel Jim, was our grandfather, somewhat removed.
Me and Martha Jane, decided to explore the old attic.
nobody lived on the second or third floor,
they were a home for goblins and ghosts,
but the meanest ones up in the attic.
Slowly with shaking knees,
two flashlights and a kersosene lantern;
slowly, we climbed holding hands,
me, I was about to wet myself.
Second floor, easy, no sweat,
then up to the third story we went.
Stood at the attic door,
turned off the lights and went up one more.
Stood in the dark, not moving,
then we turned our flashlights on;
scampering, squealing and running about,
four barn owls and a family of coons.
We both laughed, lighting the lantern,
we began exploring.
Old clothes, furniture too,
whole clan of rats.
We laughed n’ danced a bit,
for we had made it to the attic.
Not telling a soul,
we had our own special hiding place.
Up there we would go,
make weird noises and rattle things.
Poisoned the rats and drove off the coons,
left the owls to rule the roost.
Yeppers, oh yes indeed,
those stairs were very scary to me.
Now the old home is mine,
no ghosts now up those stairs.
By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)
oh so many stairs i've climbed all the way to the top
steps that curve or are straight up
steps to sweep or not
steps that curve around a lot
back steps to a hidden door
now what is that for?
steps to the cellar
i painted them yellow
so we wouldn't fall
or trip oer a ball
steps to the attic scarey there
had to pull down a square
in the ceiling so bare
just to get some air
steps to my bedroom twin beds and a vanity
hollywood beds they were called don't you see
foam pillows that made you sleep like a log
and under the bed was always my dog
steps to go out front or out back
please do not step on a tack
or slip on the ice
that would not be nice
open the outside cellar door
oh my goodness now what is in store
steps and more steps all the way down
with shelves on the side for tools for the lawn
now that is about the end of my steps
you are all so glad of that i bet
By Amy (Fabulousfilly@aol.com)