Poetry Forum

House-shaped

Edit3

We shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us. - Winston Churchill, 1944

A home is not a trap, a house may be:
The home may form, break - all depends upon
Each person who arrives, abides, departs,
Who loves or hates, who dies or procreates.
Each one shapes home-life - but the house endures.

The single man who buys a house invests,
Depreciation his alone to bear.
Appreciation swells his sole net worth,
But if he never marries, fails to form
A family, his house fills with the dust
Of years. So molded by its walls, he fits;
His house is comfortable, so is he.
But should he, childless, try to break its chains,
Each book, each chair and etching forms a link
That binds him, owned by all the things he’s bought.

As sad but grimmer is the fate of those
Whose family disintegrates but leaves
Their house of many years, once home, a prize
To be fought over. All its joy escaped
Like baby’s breath; too soon there’s nothing left
But walls and cellars, plumbing, attic, floors
Its former residents each claim to own.

We shape our houses, Churchill said, but then
They mold us. If the cast is too exact,
Too hard, we cannot leave until we melt -
For we’re no longer shaped to pass their doors.

Edit2

We shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us. - Winston Churchill, 1944

A home is not a trap, a house may be:
The home may form, break - all depends upon
Each person who arrives, abides, departs,
Who loves or hates, who dies or procreates.
Each one shapes home-life - but the house endures.

The single man who buys a house invests -
Depreciation’s his alone to bear;
Appreciation swells his sole net worth.
But if he never marries, fails to form
A family, his house fills with the dust
Of years, possessions, everything but trust
In others. He’s shaped by its walls, constrained;
His house is comfortable, so is he.
But should he, childless, try to break its chains,
Each book, each chair and etching forms a link
That binds him, owned by all the things he’s bought.

As sad or sadder is the fate of those
Whose family disintegrates but leaves
Their house of many years, once home, a prize
To be fought over. All its joy escapes
Like baby’s breath; too soon there’s nothing left
But walls and cellars, plumbing, attic, floors
Its former residents each claim to own.

We shape our houses, Churchill said, but then
They mold us. If the cast is too exact,
Too hard, we cannot leave until we melt -
For we’re no longer shaped to pass their doors.

Edit1

We shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us. - Winston Churchill, 1944

A home is not a trap, a house may be:
The home may form, break - all depends upon
Each person who arrives, abides, departs,
Who loves or hates, who dies or procreates.
Each one shapes home-life - but the house endures.

The single man who buys a house invests,
Pays tax directly, not through fee or rent.
Depreciation’s his to bear, repair;
Appreciation swells his sole net worth.
But if he never marries, fails to form
A family, his house fills with the dust
Of years, possessions, everything but trust
In others. He’s shaped by its walls, constrained,
Made part of town and neighborhood, which change.
His house is comfortable, so is he;
But as he, childless, tries to break their chains,
Each book, each chair and etching forms a link
That binds him, owned by all the things he’s bought.

As sad or sadder is the fate of those
Whose family disintegrates but leaves
Their house of many years, once home, a prize
To be fought over. All its joy escapes
Like baby’s breath; too soon there’s nothing left
But walls and cellars, plumbing, attic, floors,
A shell trapped relatives contend to own.

We shape our houses, Churchill said, but then
They mold us. If the cast is too exact,
Too hard, we cannot leave until we melt -
For we’re no longer shaped to pass their doors.

Original version

We shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us. - Winston Churchill, 1944

A home is not a trap, a house may be:
The home may form or break, depending on
Each person who arrives, abides, departs,
Who loves or hates, who dies or procreates.
Each one shapes home-life - but the house endures.

The single man who buys a house invests,
Pays tax directly, not through fee or rent.
Depreciation’s his to bear, repair;
Appreciation swells his sole net worth.
But if he never marries, fails to form
A family, his house fills with the dust
Of years, possessions, everything but trust
In others. He’s shaped by its walls, constrained,
Chained to its town and neighborhood, which change.
His house is comfortable, so is he;
But as he, childless, tries to break their chains,
Each book, each chair and etching forms a link
That binds him, owned by all the things he’s bought.

As sad, or sadder, is the fate of those
Whose family disintegrates but leaves
Their house of many years, once home, a prize
To be fought over, all its joy escaped
Like laughing gas or baby’s breath, reduced
To walls and cellars, plumbing, attics, floors,
Maintained with envy, gripped with empty hate.

We shape our houses, Churchill said, but then
They mold us. If the cast is too exact,
Too hard, unless we melt we cannot leave,
For we’re no longer shaped to pass their doors.

Blank verse; something of a song of experience. All comments and suggestions for improvement welcome.

(01-01-2016, 12:23 AM)dukealien Wrote: [ -> ]House-shaped

We shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us. - Winston Churchill, 1944

This is a nice quote. Where did you find it?

A home is not a trap, a house may be:
The home may form or break, depending on
Each person who arrives, abides, departs,
Who loves or hates, who dies or procreates.
Each one shapes home-life - but the house endures.

I'm not sure the enjambment from lines 2-3 really works. That is, it feels like one continuous line you've arbitrarily broken at a certain point rather than two meaningful lines in their own right. I explain this a little more below with your other enjambments. That said, lines 4-5 are fantastic, I really like them.

The single man who buys a house invests,
Pays tax directly, not through fee or rent.
Depreciation’s his to bear, repair;
Appreciation swells his sole net worth.
But if he never marries, fails to form
A family, his house fills with the dust As with the first stanza, you have an enjambment in "form / a family" that I personally think sounds awkward.
Of years, possessions, everything but trust In contrast, I think the "dust / of years" enjambment works well. The purpose of an enjambment is, generally speaking,
to raise tension or emphasis. Breaking up "dust / of years" puts this emphasis on "of years," changing the meaning of the
line from literal to metaphorical dust. Which works very well within the context of what you are trying to say in this stanza.
However, in the previous lines, "form / a family" puts similar emphasis on "a family", but really the unit of meaning here is
"form a family" as a whole, and I personally don't see any narrative reason to break it up. There's no other meaning to
"form" here, since you already said marriage earlier in the line, so the meaning is already clear. The additional emphasis
just feels forced.
In others. He’s shaped by its walls, constrained,
Chained to its town and neighborhood, which change. What does the "its" in this line refer to? From context it seems it should be "his town".
His house is comfortable, so is he;
But as he, childless, tries to break their chains, What does "their" refer to? His possessions you list in the following lines? I would probably not want to use "chains" here,
since you used chains two lines up to refer to something different, and I'm not sure the repetition is anything but confusing here.
Each book, each chair and etching forms a link
That binds him, owned by all the things he’s bought. I like these two lines, they bring this stanza to a head. On a somewhat facetious note, who has etchings anymore?

As sad, or sadder, is the fate of those No need for the commas around "or sadder" here.
Whose family disintegrates but leaves I'm not crazy about the use of "disintegrates" here, but I don't hate it, either. I'll need to think about that.
Their house of many years, once home, a prize I would end the sentence at "years". So: "many years. Once home ..." Otherwise it's a very unwieldy stanza-length sentence with lots of comma-induced fragments. It also puts additional emphasis on "Once home", to re-emphasize
the ephemeral nature of home this poem is talking about.
To be fought over, all its joy escaped
Like laughing gas or baby’s breath, reduced
To walls and cellars, plumbing, attics, floors,
Maintained with envy, gripped with empty hate. Not sure I see the connection of "empty hate" with the rest of this stanza.

We shape our houses, Churchill said, but then
They mold us. If the cast is too exact,
Too hard, unless we melt we cannot leave,
For we’re no longer shaped to pass their doors. These last two lines sound quite awkward to my ears. I think it might sound better to write it as "we cannot leave unless we melt", for one thing.

Blank verse; something of a song of experience. All comments and suggestions for improvement welcome.

A neat little poem. The first and second stanzas I quite like, I think the last two need a little more work.

(01-01-2016, 12:23 AM)dukealien Wrote: [ -> ]House-shaped

We shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us. - Winston Churchill, 1944

A home is not a trap, a house may be:
The home may form or break, depending on
Each person who arrives, abides, departs,
Who loves or hates, who dies or procreates.
Each one shapes home-life - but the house endures.

The single man who buys a house invests,
Pays tax directly, not through fee or rent.
Depreciation’s his to bear, repair;
Appreciation swells his sole net worth.
But if he never marries, fails to form
A family, his house fills with the dust
Of years, possessions, everything but trust
In others. He’s shaped by its walls, constrained,
Chained to its town and neighborhood, which change.
His house is comfortable, so is he;
But as he, childless, tries to break their chains,
Each book, each chair and etching forms a link
That binds him, owned by all the things he’s bought.

As sad, or sadder, is the fate of those
Whose family disintegrates but leaves
Their house of many years, once home, a prize
To be fought over, all its joy escaped
Like laughing gas or baby’s breath, reduced
To walls and cellars, plumbing, attics, floors,
Maintained with envy, gripped with empty hate. (not sure what you mean by maintained with envy...do you mean that the envy of others is the
motivating drive to keep up the home nice rather than more loving emotions? If that is the case perhaps adding a word or rephrasing to indicate)
We shape our houses, Churchill said, but then
They mold us. If the cast is too exact,
Too hard, unless we melt we cannot leave,
For we’re no longer shaped to pass their doors.

Hi,

This is thoughtful and evocative. Although I certainly have been touched by the nature of a house/home, I have not really thought about it in depth. I can think of a person who I grew up with, who is still kind of a friend. She lives in a sterile seeming McMansion, a sterile seeming home for desperate housewives even though she has two children. You have to take off your shoes upon entry. Did she shape the home or did the home shape her, or a combination of both? My home gets really messy sometimes...

Your piece is sad. It made me think of the difficulty faced by a man who buys a home only to never fill it like he intended, something I have not thought of before. Indeed there are plenty of homes who go through divorce and that changes them (the home and the people). The quote you found to introduce your poem works wonderfully.

All in all I think you have a nice piece here. I really like the idea of writing poetically about the nature of the home. Actually, I think you could do more with this if you wanted in a longer poem or with a series of poems. There is so much you could do with this topic in depth. What a great idea to write about, from a poetic, sociological, and psychological standpoint.

For me there is nothing sadder than the vacant foreclosure home, overgrown and unkempt, but bearing evidence of one having been a beautiful home.

I wonder what my emotions I will go through in the future over homes, such as seeing a home sold and/or etc?

I love your ending about no longer being shaped to pass through their doors, wonderfully put!

Blank verse; something of a song of experience. All comments and suggestions for improvement welcome.

Thank you very much, both @Apache and @Casey Renee, for your welcome critiques. My first edit of the poem, based on your suggestions, is below and in the updated initial post of this thread.

I haven't followed all @Apache's thoughts, though the second-to-last line is almost exactly as suggested. Although blank verse isn't constrained by rhyme, meter and a set number of feet per line are temptations to use filler. For example, the original version of the last line of the second to last stanza was simply throwing the bad-emotion kitchen sink at it without much thought; both critics caught that, and I've tried in this edit to make it do some useful work.

@Casey specifically, glad reading the poem has deepened your appreciation of the less bright side of life - resignation, in particular.

@Apache - I first saw the Churchill quote in one of Paul Johnson's history works (probably history of England). There are several variants, which is odd because it was apparently spoken in the House of Commons - all you should have to do is consult the minutes. (One variant is, "We shape our buildings, and thereafter our buildings shape us." I like the alexandrine better.) A somewhat similar quote - which could also form the basis of a poem, good idea you have there for a series - is Orwell's "The white man wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it."

P.S. I have etchings (also woodcuts and lithographs), and would hate not to have walls on which to show them. Wink

Edit1

We shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us. - Winston Churchill, 1944

A home is not a trap, a house may be:
The home may form, break - all depends upon
Each person who arrives, abides, departs,
Who loves or hates, who dies or procreates.
Each one shapes home-life - but the house endures.

The single man who buys a house invests,
Pays tax directly, not through fee or rent.
Depreciation’s his to bear, repair;
Appreciation swells his sole net worth.
But if he never marries, fails to form
A family, his house fills with the dust
Of years, possessions, everything but trust
In others. He’s shaped by its walls, constrained,
Made part of town and neighborhood, which change.
His house is comfortable, so is he;
But as he, childless, tries to break their chains,
Each book, each chair and etching forms a link
That binds him, owned by all the things he’s bought.

As sad or sadder is the fate of those
Whose family disintegrates but leaves
Their house of many years, once home, a prize
To be fought over. All its joy escapes
Like baby’s breath; too soon there’s nothing left
But walls and cellars, plumbing, attic, floors,
A shell trapped relatives contend to own.

We shape our houses, Churchill said, but then
They mold us. If the cast is too exact,
Too hard, we cannot leave until we melt -
For we’re no longer shaped to pass their doors.

(01-02-2016, 08:11 AM)dukealien Wrote: [ -> ]Thank you very much, both @Apache and @Casey Renee, for your welcome critiques. My first edit of the poem, based on your suggestions, is below and in the updated initial post of this thread.

I haven't followed all @Apache's thoughts, though the second-to-last line is almost exactly as suggested. Although blank verse isn't constrained by rhyme, meter and a set number of feet per line are temptations to use filler. For example, the original version of the last line of the second to last stanza was simply throwing the bad-emotion kitchen sink at it without much thought; both critics caught that, and I've tried in this edit to make it do some useful work.

@Casey specifically, glad reading the poem has deepened your appreciation of the less bright side of life - resignation, in particular.

@Apache - I first saw the Churchill quote in one of Paul Johnson's history works (probably history of England). There are several variants, which is odd because it was apparently spoken in the House of Commons - all you should have to do is consult the minutes. (One variant is, "We shape our buildings, and thereafter our buildings shape us." I like the alexandrine better.) A somewhat similar quote - which could also form the basis of a poem, good idea you have there for a series - is Orwell's "The white man wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it."

P.S. I have etchings (also woodcuts and lithographs), and would hate not to have walls on which to show them.

Edit1

We shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us. - Winston Churchill, 1944

A home is not a trap, a house may be:
The home may form, break - all depends upon
Each person who arrives, abides, departs,
Who loves or hates, who dies or procreates.
Each one shapes home-life - but the house endures.

The single man who buys a house invests,
Pays tax directly, not through fee or rent.
Depreciation’s his to bear, repair;
Appreciation swells his sole net worth.
But if he never marries, fails to form
A family, his house fills with the dust
Of years, possessions, everything but trust
In others. He’s shaped by its walls, constrained,
Made part of town and neighborhood, which change.
His house is comfortable, so is he;
But as he, childless, tries to break their chains,
Each book, each chair and etching forms a link
That binds him, owned by all the things he’s bought.

As sad or sadder is the fate of those
Whose family disintegrates but leaves
Their house of many years, once home, a prize
To be fought over. All its joy escapes
Like baby’s breath; too soon there’s nothing left
But walls and cellars, plumbing, attic, floors,
A shell trapped relatives contend to own.

We shape our houses, Churchill said, but then
They mold us. If the cast is too exact,
Too hard, we cannot leave until we melt -
For we’re no longer shaped to pass their doors.

I am liking your edits. Smile

nice poem. difficulty following the logic of some of the lines. crit below.

(01-01-2016, 12:23 AM)dukealien Wrote: [ -> ]House-shaped

Edit1

We shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us. - Winston Churchill, 1944

A home is not a trap, a house may be:
The home may form, break - all depends upon
Each person who arrives, abides, departs,
Who loves or hates, who dies or procreates.
Each one shapes home-life - but the house endures. ..... thoroughly enjoyable S1

The single man who buys a house invests,
Pays tax directly, not through fee or rent......how is tax paid indirectly through fee or rent? can't understand this.
Depreciation’s his to bear, repair; ....how would it change if it weren't a single man?
Appreciation swells his sole net worth.
But if he never marries, fails to form
A family, his house fills with the dust
Of years, possessions, everything but trust ..... may disagree with the assertion, but ok with it being your POV in the poem
In others. He’s shaped by its walls, constrained,
Made part of town and neighborhood, which change. .....how is a 'single man' made 'part of town and neighbourhood' in a way that a married man with a family is not?
His house is comfortable, so is he;
But as he, childless, tries to break their chains, ....who is 'they'?
Each book, each chair and etching forms a link
That binds him, owned by all the things he’s bought.....nice

As sad or sadder is the fate of those
Whose family disintegrates but leaves ....suggest "families disintegrate" and "leave"
Their house of many years, once home, a prize
To be fought over. All its joy escapes
Like baby’s breath; too soon there’s nothing left
But walls and cellars, plumbing, attic, floors,
A shell trapped relatives contend to own. ..."trapped relatives" for me somehow weakens the image of the "trapped individual" home owner

We shape our houses, Churchill said, but then
They mold us. If the cast is too exact,
Too hard, we cannot leave until we melt -
For we’re no longer shaped to pass their doors. ...very nice

Original version

We shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us. - Winston Churchill, 1944

A home is not a trap, a house may be:
The home may form or break, depending on
Each person who arrives, abides, departs,
Who loves or hates, who dies or procreates.
Each one shapes home-life - but the house endures.

The single man who buys a house invests,
Pays tax directly, not through fee or rent.
Depreciation’s his to bear, repair;
Appreciation swells his sole net worth.
But if he never marries, fails to form
A family, his house fills with the dust
Of years, possessions, everything but trust
In others. He’s shaped by its walls, constrained,
Chained to its town and neighborhood, which change.
His house is comfortable, so is he;
But as he, childless, tries to break their chains,
Each book, each chair and etching forms a link
That binds him, owned by all the things he’s bought.

As sad, or sadder, is the fate of those
Whose family disintegrates but leaves
Their house of many years, once home, a prize
To be fought over, all its joy escaped
Like laughing gas or baby’s breath, reduced
To walls and cellars, plumbing, attics, floors,
Maintained with envy, gripped with empty hate.

We shape our houses, Churchill said, but then
They mold us. If the cast is too exact,
Too hard, unless we melt we cannot leave,
For we’re no longer shaped to pass their doors.

Blank verse; something of a song of experience. All comments and suggestions for improvement welcome.

(01-01-2016, 12:23 AM)dukealien Wrote: [ -> ]House-shaped

Edit1

We shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us. - Winston Churchill, 1944

A home is not a trap, a house may be:
The home may form, break - all depends upon
Each person who arrives, abides, departs,
Who loves or hates, who dies or procreates.This line has too many syllables, the word procreates does not flow well
Each one shapes home-life - but the house endures.

The single man who buys a house invests,
Pays tax directly, not through fee or rent.
Depreciation’s his to bear, repair;
Appreciation swells his sole net worth.
But if he never marries, fails to form
A family, his house fills with the dust
Of years, possessions, everything but trust
In others. He’s shaped by its walls, constrained,
Made part of town and neighborhood, which change.
His house is comfortable, so is he;
But as he, childless, tries to break their chains, Again, the childless causes the flow and rhythm to stop
Each book, each chair and etching forms a link
That binds him, owned by all the things he’s bought. Again, bought does not go with the rhythm of the piece

As sad or sadder is the fate of those
Whose family disintegrates but leaves
Their house of many years, once home, a prize
To be fought over. All its joy escapes
Like baby’s breath; too soon there’s nothing left
But walls and cellars, plumbing, attic, floors,
A shell trapped relatives contend to own.

We shape our houses, Churchill said, but then
They mold us. If the cast is too exact,
Too hard, we cannot leave until we melt -
For we’re no longer shaped to pass their doors.

Original version

We shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us. - Winston Churchill, 1944

A home is not a trap, a house may be:
The home may form or break, depending on
Each person who arrives, abides, departs,
Who loves or hates, who dies or procreates.
Each one shapes home-life - but the house endures.

The single man who buys a house invests,
Pays tax directly, not through fee or rent.
Depreciation’s his to bear, repair;
Appreciation swells his sole net worth.
But if he never marries, fails to form
A family, his house fills with the dust
Of years, possessions, everything but trust
In others. He’s shaped by its walls, constrained,
Chained to its town and neighborhood, which change.
His house is comfortable, so is he;
But as he, childless, tries to break their chains,
Each book, each chair and etching forms a link
That binds him, owned by all the things he’s bought.

As sad, or sadder, is the fate of those
Whose family disintegrates but leaves
Their house of many years, once home, a prize
To be fought over, all its joy escaped
Like laughing gas or baby’s breath, reduced
To walls and cellars, plumbing, attics, floors,
Maintained with envy, gripped with empty hate.

We shape our houses, Churchill said, but then
They mold us. If the cast is too exact,
Too hard, unless we melt we cannot leave,
For we’re no longer shaped to pass their doors.

Blank verse; something of a song of experience. All comments and suggestions for improvement welcome.

You have a really nice rhythm, almost like a rap or a spoken verse. But there are spots where you lose this flow which detriment the piece as a whole. I like the theme, and the last stanza in general really speaks to me. It brings the whole poem together by alluding back to the first quote you started with. It also leaves the reader with something to think about. I would work around with your word choices and organization, but other than that very nice.

Many thanks, now, to @ronsaik and @mlund for their further, valuable critiques. Edit 2, responding to them, is below and added to the initial post of this thread.

@mlund - I think I see what you're getting at. For example, in L4 I read "who dies or procreates" as ./././ - three iambs. I believe you may be giving it a natural reading, ././.. with two less-stressed syllables ending "procreates," giving the line a weak conclusion. This is my problem, not yours: I tend to adopt a singsong, "Reading Poetry" manner when reading aloud (or just with lips moving) which negates metric substitutions either good or (as you note in this case) bad. I have not changed this or either of the other llines you critiqued, but recognize the problem and will try to come up with fixes for them - word choice, or word order.

@ronsaik - I've made changes to address your objections, which have helped a lot IMHO. For example, the lines dealing with taxes and stuck-in-the-neighborhood were not only hard to interpret, they were simply unnecessary, and I've cut them completely. Thanks!

[Aside - the one about rent is a personal peeve a la Bastiat: when you own a house, you see the property taxes on your bill; when you rent, you don't see the taxes because the landlord pays them... but they come out of your rent just the same, unless you're under rent control. Then, those taxes come out in non-monetary form - deferred maintenance, for example. Bastiat's distinction between what is seen - the tax - and what is not - the increased rent or reduced amenitieis - is important, but it was a hobby-horse too far for this poem!]

I've also made another stab at ending the third stanza to some purpose, which included adjustments elsewhere to match and paralelism with the end of the previous stanza. Endings of the other stanzas, which critics here have generally approved, were retained.

Edit2

We shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us. - Winston Churchill, 1944

A home is not a trap, a house may be:
The home may form, break - all depends upon
Each person who arrives, abides, departs,
Who loves or hates, who dies or procreates.
Each one shapes home-life - but the house endures.

The single man who buys a house invests -
Depreciation’s his alone to bear;
Appreciation swells his sole net worth.
But if he never marries, fails to form
A family, his house fills with the dust
Of years, possessions, everything but trust
In others. He’s shaped by its walls, constrained;
His house is comfortable, so is he.
But should he, childless, try to break its chains,
Each book, each chair and etching forms a link
That binds him, owned by all the things he’s bought.

As sad or sadder is the fate of those
Whose family disintegrates but leaves
Their house of many years, once home, a prize
To be fought over. All its joy escapes
Like baby’s breath; too soon there’s nothing left
But walls and cellars, plumbing, attic, floors
Its former residents each claim to own.

We shape our houses, Churchill said, but then
They mold us. If the cast is too exact,
Too hard, we cannot leave until we melt -
For we’re no longer shaped to pass their doors.

It is a style choice you are certainly not incorrect in making, but I would consider not Capitalizing every line-- it's an older style and tends to suggest you are following some formal form, like a sonnet, which you are not.

Quote:We shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us. - Winston Churchill, 1944

A home is not a trap, a house may be: This is a nice opening, but I am not sure if you explore it -- You describe how "home-ness" is lost, but I don't really see the trap.
The home may form, break - all depends upon
Each person who arrives, abides, departs,
Who loves or hates, who dies or procreates.
Each one shapes home-life - but the house endures.

The single man who buys a house invests -
Depreciation’s his alone to bear; Pet peeve, but Depreciation's bothers me, would prefer to see it without the "'s" or spelled out
Appreciation swells his sole net worth.
But if he never marries, fails to form
A family, his house fills with the dust
Of years, possessions, everything but trust I wonder if you need this, or could just end on "fills with dust." then "He's shaped..." I think the dust standing for those types of things is inferable from what precedes.
In others. He’s shaped by its walls, constrained;
His house is comfortable, so is he.
But should he, childless, try to break its chains,
Each book, each chair and etching forms a link
That binds him, owned by all the things he’s bought.

As sad or sadder is the fate of those "or sadder" is a needlessly distracting call for the reader to make a comparison that isn't the point of the poem.
Whose family disintegrates but leaves
Their house of many years, once home, a prize
To be fought over. All its joy escapes By saying "Their house, once home" you've set it as after the fact, so perhaps "All joy escaped like..." (past tense)
Like baby’s breath; too soon there’s nothing left
But walls and cellars, plumbing, attic, floors
Its former residents each claim to own.

We shape our houses, Churchill said, but then
They mold us. If the cast is too exact,
Too hard, we cannot leave until we melt -
For we’re no longer shaped to pass their doors.

Beyond the above, I think the language is still a touch, hmm, not sure how to describe -- formal, stilted? -- I think this could be tightened further and you would't lose what you think you would.

@Akira - Thank you for the excellent critique. To the charge of formality and even stuffiness, I plead guilty. Perhaps it's the heading quote ("thereafter," f'petesake), but I do live in this stuffy, dusty old house with etchings on the walls... Wink

Aside from that, I've implemented your suggestions in Edit 3 (below and prepended in the original post of this thread). I'm not absolutely sure that "escaped" is correct in S3 - we're in a sort-of subjunctive there - but it works just as well. Your suggestion of cutting the "s" from "Depreciation's" caused a cascade of changes in S2 which included cutting the list following "dust;" I think the poem's better without it, as you said. Still asking the reader to make a comparison at the beginning of S3, but at least it's a new thought instead of meter-filler.

Edit3

We shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us. - Winston Churchill, 1944

A home is not a trap, a house may be:
The home may form, break - all depends upon
Each person who arrives, abides, departs,
Who loves or hates, who dies or procreates.
Each one shapes home-life - but the house endures.

The single man who buys a house invests,
Depreciation his alone to bear.
Appreciation swells his sole net worth,
But if he never marries, fails to form
A family, his house fills with the dust
Of years. So molded by its walls, he fits;
His house is comfortable, so is he.
But should he, childless, try to break its chains,
Each book, each chair and etching forms a link
That binds him, owned by all the things he’s bought.

As sad but grimmer is the fate of those
Whose family disintegrates but leaves
Their house of many years, once home, a prize
To be fought over. All its joy escaped
Like baby’s breath; too soon there’s nothing left
But walls and cellars, plumbing, attic, floors
Its former residents each claim to own.

We shape our houses, Churchill said, but then
They mold us. If the cast is too exact,
Too hard, we cannot leave until we melt -
For we’re no longer shaped to pass their doors.

dukealien

Apache

REW

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REW

Achebe

mlund

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Akira

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