#cottage
A simple cottage
On a calm secluded hill:
Here contentment dwells.
~ Poetictouch
May 16
May 16, 2026 at 9:28 AM UTC
Aside from the landscape
of nature’s infrastructure,
the wandering winds,
with no warnings to heed,
seemingly endless,
push forth,
Chaotic commentary
for my otherwise quaint
cottage of quietness.
Mar 15
Mar 15, 2026 at 9:37 AM UTC
It’s not about Mercedes
But all about mercy in days
and mercy in needs
When mercy itself;
needs mercy in deeds..
Is the way of mercifulness
with mercy of cheese
and mercy of peace
in mercy cottage
that is bountiful of
mercy indeed..
Feb 9
Feb 9, 2026 at 8:56 PM UTC
In a secluded wood a lonely house sits
Amongst the trees looking forlorn
Until the winter and the Snow
Light up and relieve all the gloom
Its pathway now covered in a white blanket
And the steps now slippery with Ice
However, its lights glow like a beacon
Causing the whole house to glow
As the smoke pours out from its chimney on high
A white streak going up into the sky
It looks like a picture from a Christmas card
A warm welcome I am sure, would be had inside
To sit beside the raging fires
One in every room
To toast some bread, bake some spuds
A jolly time would be had by all
In fact, I know it would
You see, it’s where I grew up as a child
A house full of love and laughter
Memories never forgotten
As I walk down the lane, the steps remain
But the house is now a ruin
It is such a shame when things come to an end
But sadly time marches on
Moreover, my childhood was long ago
Oh to rebuild it to its former glory
But the pictures I remember
Assure that its lives on forever
Feb 1
Feb 1, 2026 at 4:08 AM UTC
Where the dirt road surrenders to the dune,
And sea grass whispers a forgotten tune,
There stands a cottage, weathered, salt-and-grey,
To watch the slow dissolving of the day.
It’s tucked behind a wild and wind-swept pine,
A crooked, friendly, welcome sort of sign.
Inside, stand a little library with sun-bleached rows,
A whispered soundtrack softly flows.
The window's open to the sea,
And you are sitting next to me.
No need for words, no grand display,
You understand my silent way.
The turning page, the distant gull,
A quiet, comfortable lull.
feeling a corner of the worn armchair,
run your fingers through my hair.
No calendar, no hurried pace,
Just sunlight on your thoughtful face.
The sand is tracked across the floor,
We do not hurry to the door.
This stillness settles in my soul,
It makes me feel completely whole.
A haven built of wood and sand,
The gentle touch of your warm hand.
This is the peace I've longed to find,
An ease of heart, and soul, and mind.
Dec 23, 2025
Dec 23, 2025 at 6:47 PM UTC
Quiet is the house
Quiet as a mouse
Do not wake it
Let’s be quiet
Tip toe
To the kitchen
Let’s grab a snack
A bottle of wine
Out to the lake
Down the path
To the Okanogan chairs
On a cool Muskoka night
Berry stained lips
Kissed under the stars
Arms wrapped themselves
Under the cashmere cable knit
Under the silk robe
My heart beat wilder than a bunny
You ****** the air out of my mouth and held it for a while, like a drag of a joint
You exhaled and reached and caught the air seconds later
You opened your palm to me
Our berry stained lips found each other once again in the darkness of the night
Oct 17, 2025
Oct 17, 2025 at 8:03 PM UTC
.
returning to my childhood home in thought
returning to mallard quacks tolling
and the hour toiled
by ever thirsty church bells
cold damp rock house with ammonites
and belemnites coiling in the walls
and a cooling ichthyosaur
futilely trying to swim in the silty soil
struggling to catch prey
beneath the foundation
its darkness is rummage
.
a flush lawn planted nilly and obscene
monkshood mint cotton grass and ling
warm mentions an evening fire
and the family room
i'm mooding through the memory
and it grooms apart organic
birthing not river not smoke
rat sized earwigs take to the air heat
over the boiling tar garage roof
and i return home back through time
child swinging on thick vines suspended
by the yew over the stream
the willows dapple and paddle
the fir trees return
fierce sproutings of involving shade
ridding the house
of the intruder new extension
riding time back
and the caravan my parents
would later park on concrete
is swallowed
the storms of a bad year return the old wall
at the property edge
and the cottage reforms an ancient pace
with its surroundings
.
it's no longer my families claimed place
re-seemed with ghoulish history
the workhouse returns
and files with hard poverty
the wall punches through
in what will be the kitchen
and the cottage runs through long
with the neighbours space
dormitory takes the whole upstairs length
and the legend of the garment thief
drops ghost and rumour to live again
and then all this too flees out of history
.
rushing back through time
and this all sinks into the levels
swamp life takes over
and the ammonites
moisten with anticipation
prehistory is sprout to begin
.
Sep 23, 2025
Sep 23, 2025 at 10:08 AM UTC
Red rivers send shivers that leave me aquiver
In my bed- what I said would get to her head and
Bite marks grow dark as the greedy soul harks
On my words as the birds sing unheard.
It's morning, not mourning the time we had lost.
It's now dawn, the night's gone for that was the cost
That we paid, for love made it all worth the ending
Of day- for I say on the next we'll be fending.
The love is still there but the lust in the air
Is gone from this place as rest shows its face
And when we sleep past noon, the sun as our moon,
I'll pull her close tightly, cause I love her.
And I'll wait for you idly, my lover.
Nov 25, 2024
Nov 25, 2024 at 9:41 AM UTC
If you Google it, the search comes up as a dot it is so small
growing up years ago they said the population was 500
but that had to have included the people passing through
for we had an ESSO, Schell, Gulf, BP and Texaco gas station
Being on the way to cottage country we were that stop
far enough from the big city for cottagers to be ready
for a bathroom break and a fill up at the pumps
Crime was something we only read about in the papers
Our claim to fame the lake, and ice fishing
You could drive your car to the island in the dead of winter
passing by fish huts painted in an array of colors
The ice road delineated by trees to avoid getting lost
Sure we had the odd break in at a cottage but nothing
that got our name in the news
Oh, we also had two churches and a one room school house
we arrived when I was in grade two, Miss Mitchell was the teacher
Growing up in those days meant hours playing
If we weren’t swimming, we were future hockey stars
or baseball players, Ian and I at the back of the school
pitcher and hitter challenging each other
Hours upon hours at a time spent with kids from down the street
Sure there were the petty fights but mostly with my brothers,
but what can you expect when you have four boys growing up
each vying to become adult like
Those were, in my mind, the days of innocence
before computers and the world became larger
and the internet allowed you to see it all,
the poverty, the deadliness of war, man’s cruelty
Once a place I wanted to desperately get away from
to get lost in the city, an introvert looking for a place to hide
I now find myself reminiscing of those long lost days
where life was simple and a day could be spent daydreaming
Andreas Simic©
Jun 17, 2022
Jun 17, 2022 at 7:08 AM UTC
a long way
to a place many never go
surrounded by tall trees
with a path, many don't follow
an open home
railing
abandoned
Sep 5, 2021
Sep 5, 2021 at 7:40 PM UTC
I want to go live in a cottage in the woods
By myself with a few pets here and there
My friends would live not too far and would visit every day
My family would visit once a month and only on holidays,
Except for my extended family who would not ever come to my house, I’d only see them at theirs
I would have a cat, a bunny, and a dog
Maybe a chinchilla
I could bake cakes, cookies, and pies by the window in the kitchen
I could have a garden filled with flowers and fruits
I could have a stone pathway leading to my house
I could practice my witchcraft in peace and live happily on my own
I usually close my eyes to imagine this perfect place
Where I can dance in the rain and watch Studio Ghibli every day
I hope that I can have that one day,
To live peacefully on my own without a care in the world
Jan 19, 2021
Jan 19, 2021 at 12:23 PM UTC
Travel towards the sun by day, until weary then turn left if may. A cottage in the middle of nowhere you seek, will be just beyond your reach.
Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 7:07 PM UTC
It was our second visit in six years to Ivy cottage
Inside the kitchen I crossed through the bookmarks of time
What will the future be like for the kids?
At the top of the stairs looking down another bookmark
Will our next home look as nice as this?
Those thoughts and wishes have come true
All I can say Ivy is thank-you
Thank-you for your park of 1000 acres
Thank-you for the swallows who chased me
Thank-you for the future that now faces me
Aug 15, 2020
Aug 15, 2020 at 4:09 AM UTC
First is a tree who's name wasn't taught
Next, then of course, a tree now forgot
And then many maples
A spruce and a birch,
Then the last leafless branch
on which these words perch:
Now Into blue sky
Through swirled clouds I search
On this dock as a bible
In this lake like a church;
My soul does the backstroke
Toward the blue dream, I lurch.
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 2:01 AM UTC
“Haven’t you heard the cottage in the clearing-”
“-upon the mountain?”
“-yes it belongs to a demon.”
And I gripped my angel’s arm to keep them from interfering
with the two mothers' conversation.
“My kids tried to enter it one day
they thought it was abandoned; figured it’d be okay.
But it wasn’t empty! The home came alive!
With shifting shadows that let sinister creatures thrive!
It hissed like a serpent preparing to strike
but its shadow was not unlike
a human in form, tall and thin
with claw-like fingers, a pointy-toothed grin,
and slitted eyes that glowed amber in the dark-”
“I’m glad my children know to only play in the park.
No demons to be found on a swingset
Or buried in the sands to upset
children wanting to explore-”
I interject, “Isn’t this just some old folklore?
A tale told to tiny children to make
them more obedient… or perhaps to fear the snake?”
“What are you doing?” My angel asked
But I did not reply.
“Oh I am sure that my kids exaggerated a bit.
Childish imaginations are like a wicked kit
to build extraordinary nightmares from shadows.
A frightened animal becomes a monster which addles
their minds, tells them not to stray.
But it is an 'evil home' they say."
“That is absurd! It’s just an old cottage!”
My angel was incensed.
“And no child should be digging through its remains,
no matter what secrets it contains.
So if there is a demon, I do not care,
As long as it stays there.”
“And besides, a storm is coming, haven’t you heard?
If the cottage survives its assault, that would be absurd!
Leave that evil thing to rot in the weather-”
“Yes, that’d be a splendid thing! I’d tether
my hope to it like a boat to its dock
and wait out the storm. I'd wait out the clock
to see horrors end their own existence.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Good riddance!”
And the mothers walked on, angel pulled my arm
turning me to their pinched face.
“Why do you speak such a way?”
“It got them to leave me be.”
“You could’ve said, ‘I live there and I’m no demon.’”
“That would never work.
I’d rather feed into their fears and keep them away
than gave them a single face to openly hate.”
“You’re absurd!” My angel declared
and then grabbed the collar of my coat,
turning it up to protect me from the sting
of the oncoming wind
And perhaps also from the maelstrom
they feared untied boats would be caught in.
Protect me from the frightened visions of children
completing a dare.
And keep me safe from their mothers
who speak about me without knowing I'm there.
And keep me safe from myself
when I speak of why I should not receive care.
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 1:50 PM UTC
call you miss peach
mushroom princess
sugary sweet
my fairy child
cottagecore queen
(hello)
goodbye i think it's time that i leave
i know that now's no good for you and me
we'll be together one day baby (maybe)
but until that time i'll set you free (oh)
did you cast a spell
because i fell head over heels
i know your type well
fairies and elves get me hurt
because i fall too **** hard
(hi there) hello
looks like it's time that i go
you and me won't work out too well
we'll be together one day (unlikely)
until that time you won't be mine (oh)
call you miss peach
mushroom princess
cottagecore queen
not trying to be mean
but you're just a little too sweet
(hello) goodbye i've got to go
i think it's time that i leave
now's not a good time for you and me
won't be together baby
until you decide to fly by me (oh)
call you miss peach
mushroom princess
and you'll never be
not trying to be mean
but you're just a little too sweet
my cottagecore queen
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 11:43 AM UTC
Separated by half a world but united by their dream,
Two dreamers who would be lovers share in true loves theme.
In cottage upon a hilltop among trees in blossom their love stands,
Nightly, imagine being there together whilst tightly holding hands.
Each knows of the other dreaming love half a world away
Alternating as one loves by night and the other loves by day.
Thoughts so very similar of the love they wish to share.
Knowing that only by dreaming, together can they be there.
Imagined love by day and dreamed love to ease the night,
In mind alone, things that lovers do, tells each the dream is right.
Only by dream and imagined time there in that lovers place,
Can they know the others kiss and passion born of loves embrace.
And So nightly I will go by dream to that cottage on the hill
Where again she awaits and for our love, time is standing still.
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 11:59 AM UTC
Across the water a house I’ve seen.
It’s stature consists of modest means.
Simple and weathered with limited space. Its view would leave a permanent grin on your face.
With a river at its doorstep and neighbours for trees.
Looks like a cure for suburban disease.
Surrounded by colours of yellow and green.
It’s the richest abode that I’ve ever seen...
©
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 4:05 PM UTC
I want to press your kisses between the pages of a book
Like dried flowers from a June day
Your lips flutter over my cheeks, my nose
the throbbing valley of my throat
And I'm convinced you must be a hummingbird
Each kiss feels like a bouquet
You must have drank from the foxglove and yarrow before you
flew to me
Your heart stutters under my palm
Throbbing fast and full of sweetness
Tell me
Do you understand how delightful you are?
Come
Drink the sugar water from my garden
The cottage is always a little sunnier with you around.
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 10:40 PM UTC
Owl screaming in the night
Bears looking for a fight
At the end of the path
Near the lake, a cottage
There I will rest
Healing my feet
In the chimney
Fire burning bright
When morning comes
With no danger in sight
Then, I will carry on
Building my own freedom
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 3:07 AM UTC