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On my wall, there is a map of all the distant places I want to see- From ancient castles and palaces to grand natural phenomena-
home is in the sparkle of your eyes while you talk about something you love. home is in the stability of your arms as they wrap around my half-asleep body.
yell, scream, shout silence is scarce. with every word spoken, a new argument begins. each room of the house is a minefield. i tread lightly, but somehow always become collateral.
New york, New york How are you today? New York, New York So sorry to be away New York, New York It's been over a year New York, New York But I am still here New York, New York
If i jumped on a train Where would it take me? How far would I ride it? Would I be free? A passenger on its many painted boxcars
Home is the smell of a linen closet, with its never ending array of canvased colors consisting of extra bedding for the unexpected sleepovers. Home is the bruised hardwood floors
All my life I've been told that home is where the heart is But that was the last thing you took from me Leaving me with only scraps of wood for support As I crumble to bits and pieces from a broken heart
I knew I shouldn't get excited I shouldn't get myself worked up I got a little taste of freedom Now where am I? I'm fucked! You took the away the ocean with which I fell so deep in love
“Good night you two, I love you. You can stay up, Just promise me you’ll stay in your room, okay?” Father said
They faced the world standing proudly, forming a triangle with their backs to each other, their diverse facial colors, corporal features and costumes distinguished in the rising sun.
Stories and glories drip from the pages, Passions and desires breaking out of their cages. My restless mind no longer fights - Storytelling has bewitched the plight. The mystery's nonstop complexities,
Plant a kiss On whoever’s forehead you can Without awakening The more goodbyes the better, But too many On those who care too much
I want to go away from home Home is not here, not right now Home is where your happy I am happy but I'm not Happy Home is where your free I want to feel free Free of rules and madness
Nature is my home, it inspires me to be who I am the outdoors is a stress reliever, a safe place. No drama. No gossip. Just peace Nature is a place where you are persuaded by your own thought
We are all walking each others home, not knowing is a profound statement by a great teachers bestowing. The projections of inherit reflections, reveals itself in that individual social connection.
House of cards Easily blown away by wind It doesn't take long To note how fragile it became It holds memories inside Memories of the good times It has always kept the scent
Roast chicken on a Sunday evening. Homemade. Waffles and fortune cookies mending my prolonged childhood fear of the dark.
Money is given not earned, Dumpsters serve as restaurants, Fountains as bathtubs, Shoes are their tires, Makeshift shelters as home, No family but fellow brethren, And no dept because most already paid.
Memories created are stored in the colors of sky and sea, grass and kitchen counter. Feelings of music and pain are stored in the apple-scented air and sweet breeze of the place I used to be.
Home, Farewell, amongst the inevitable rubble As the nights fall does the ground darken Home, Farewell, amongst the oil black ground accompanied by the sound of a muffled radio
There is a place Where I go To escape But it is not called home When I get off the bus I walk just a little too slow And I think the reason why is simply because I Don't wanna go home
As I dwell on this long and lonely road One everlasting mile away from home You see me on the bench, jacket zipped Book open in my lap, my head dipped Poetry in motion,
And I’m back, once again at the drawing board. I know life’s a rollercoaster And I’ll have bad days, But I always find myself back here; Come with a headache, Write with a heartache
Scars Still present From when My old self Died And I began To hide And stay away Small scars On my legs From when Writing Couldn't keep
It is in these actions when my mind makes me realize maybe a place called heaven can exist Lips breathe the breath of life save me from drowning in an abyss
There’s this place I call home And I don’t know why but it seems to me That this place isn’t as simple as it used to be I was a little girl - Their little girl, she her she her
my grandparents' house has held many people, my opa built this house from the ground up and that’s how they built this family too.
Sometimes I forget to scrub away my guiltFor not looking back at my flag and waving in return.Mama says go home and eat;Talk and sleep and dance on the crossroad.I need to go home and remember who I amAs I stroll along the sun-colored street.The p
This morning I took a hike on a trail I once considered my stomping grounds when I was a child, and the reality set in
The glittering lights in Vegas can never compare to home. Now creeping into my mid-twenties, the love I have for the Bay will never grow old. I never usually take the time to swim in the midnight skies of the city
I can recall-perfectly, A Time, Made of Gold Not the gold, That you both laced around me, binding my neck and wrists.
I've come to this point, between home and abroad, where love is more potent, and yes is but a simple nod. Laughing for nothing, is our favourite pasttime, while eating sweeet treats,
Sometimes you look in someone’s eyes And see something you’ve never seen before Maybe it’s a new shade of blue That you never knew existed Or maybe it’s the twinkle
I moved to this neighborhood forty-two years ago today.I moved here six months before Elvis Presley passed away.Crosby Park is the name of my neighborhood.I've been here for a long time and I'll be here for good.
I dreamed of home last night Home The dream was dark and silent There was no plot, setting, or characters It was me In the dark
I had a smile to give you but I hesitated I waited until you looked away and then all the sudden my smile snuck out of the back door of my mind and then there was nothing I waited
My heart beats faster than my mind Which is running somewhere else other than here It escapes to my home in West Virginia which is a thousand mile away from here
I have come to find that familiarity is not belonging. An overwheliming sense of inauthenticity with those who say they know me best. My own blood. A deep sense of belonging and a welcomed sigh of relief with those
Familiar sounds, my childhood grounds But rest is far from me tonight The voice that hounds, tension abounds And you are far from me tonight I try to console my anxious soul
Hometown Spring was not silent，In early 1950s， Bird humming，water buffalo whispering in the pond， Flowers scented，streams crystalline，
My family has been stuck stuck in a vicious cycle of negative thinking, and they chose to label it a curse. See, my sisters and I come from strong women with weak hearts.
I'm not going to try to tell you you're not broken, but I'd like to be the one who kisses every wound that's open. And I know The Potter with the warmest hands who can put you back, together, better than ever, before. As so much more.
“It gets better” A phrase i heard a lot From people who didn’t know what else to say Or who haven’t the experience for advice. A phrase that felt like an excuse
Oh the great sea How it rocks to and fro Carrying its children Up above and deep below They are all loved, by the ocean held in its embrace
Between the World and Me It’s a long ride Home from school It’s a long walk
A small Alaskan town Enveloped in a calm, magical mist Where everyone grew up on a steady diet of Chocolate brown X-tra Tuffs, playing outside until dark descended, and rain that never stopped
Ignored red watercolor paint spilled on a glass table, Coffee mug creating crescent and full moon sections of rubbed away, Left on piano jazz playing through phone speakers,
My heart is aching! I feel torn in two. Between who I was, And between the new. Away I will go To venture afar, Away from my love With feelings ajar. Can I be worried?
Bruises of words blue and black Pain, and disregard, and bleeding attacks So I come to Lines of words white on black Ambrosia and nectar for scars Sketched in the mind On the sky, stars
It's Saturday I wake up Mom knows Breakfast shows up at 8 It's Saturday Dad's gone Off to work Won't be back till late Next morning On a trip
Home is where I rest My head at night Such a fickle word It seems to change all the time I’ve gotten used to The shifting
A delicate balance, strong and frail Warm and shivering, held in the palm Hands that cradle and try not to break On the edge of destruction, a startling calm. She has no wings that can be seen
Home to me is not a place Home to me is a person Relaxing embrace, makes me feel safe Your smile lifts my burdens I did not know true happiness
Leaving feels like choking on your favorite food. You think the end game will be worth it, but getting there is painful, and hard, and feels a little bit like you're dying. Because you are. In part.
my present quickly swirls into the past the feeling of home overcomes me at last. shades of masquerade envelope the room flickering shadows setting the castle a gloom. as the tornado of dancing swarms around me
And yet she's a ghost, Floating through the doorways of my heart. Beckoning me with every whisper Every word I'll hold on to To prove that she's tangible And not just a Figment Of my Imagination
There once was a cave, There lived three bears, A momma, a daddy, and a cub. They lived happily hunting and hybernating. Once, they were out hunting.
As I grew older I began to see my friends fall in love. I began to see them care for someone with a deeper passion than I have ever seen, And I began to see him feel the same way for her.
Where did the serene blue skies go? What happened to the crystal clear waters? Blackened nights and darkened clouds Leave creatures and humans suffereing, Suffocating, crying, dying.
Does Heaven have a stage? Does God have a microphone? Will I sing for Jesus when Heaven takes me back home? Does Heaven have a stage? A drum set and some guitars?
Our hearts are wild creatures, perhaps that is why our ribs are cages; I think not. For they are the silly crazy foolish little things that go about slipping and sliding, and more dangerously, falling in the dark.
Come away with me let's run into the night. Chase the moon tell her our wildest dreams N' bask in the moonlight. Watch the stars twinkle and shine so bright.
Dear “Home,” While there are many, your flaws complete you. I love your flaws because they add to your value, rather than take away. But you are more than just a home. Your foundation, while cracked, supports me.
Dear Father, I guess you were the onewho was supposed to show me how this works.The ins and outs of love,living, learning, and putting my happiness first.
They're too fast They speak of things I don't understand Their lips are quick but their minds are slow here I would rather be there Here the harrowing hardships are fast Not slow enough to listen
I had no arms to remove you, no voice to tell them to stop. But I had a door, and I let hope in for you. Dents line my walls, as the movers carried out my memories:
Dear rose, A hero that carries us all— Willing to caress us with a tender heart. Your sweet embrace is what holds lost pieces together. The Valley of the Rose.
Dear Life, As the wind blows within my hair, I take a deep breath and let all my problems go. My heart feels empty and lifeless. But I know home is where the heart is. I walk in the path of my parents shoes,
Dear Reader, here's a poem about home. i hope you enjoy. Rushing cars, aging scars. Honking horns and corner stores. People to and fro, not even a single hello? Text and call, bump and scowl.
Dear Reader, here's a poem about home. i hope you enjoy. Rushing cars, aging scars. Honking horns and corner stores. People to and fro, not even a single hello? Text and call, bump and scowl.
They calim To be your family But still They neglect you And tell you They don't want you They may claim To be your family But my love They are not Look here
20 November 2017 My Dearest,
I once paid bargain price for a ride on my River Styx It was a deal with the devil, not with my soul but with my spirit It was good economics Life’s edges display on the coast and I am sure
dear the one who feels like home when we were together you looked straight into my ocean of a heart and relieved me of some of its weight some of its noise
for Salma We ate five packs of Oreos on the bus when we weren't supposed to. We ate it messy, you see, cream and crumbs where the chin meets the mouth.
Atop the mountain lies an end,Past this hill, around the bend,A fruitful glade, a home yet found,Yes just beyond our living mound.
what's left to say in those whispering tones? got gasoline in my brain and ink on my bones. what's left to recall me; but the walls of my cell? they say it will heal. but i think that was hell.
“I don’t believe in heaven” These words fall with a tremor from my fingers to the keys And will eventually stumble from my lips to your ears It’s the unfortunate truth:
Let your house be a home for you, and if it's not then make some room for the God in you Open up your doors to the Spirit of love, alive in you, He is alive in you, let His wisdom enlighten you
As the storm passed the sea hushed. The winds aroma of salt and the calm waves send her in a sway. As a child of the cosmos, her soul belongs to the universe. Her lungs fill with moon dust.
A home that becomes your new dark place You can run from it as much as you want But you will always wake up in the same spot The nightmare is not a dream The nightmare is what you wake up to
Good afternoon Good morning Today we're going back To the 90's Only wish I could Back when Back then Everything was so simple Had a cute katana A pink little flip phone
Dear Washington, I miss you I haven’t seen you in 7 months It’s been too long I miss your forests Lush and alive More green than any place I’ve ever seen I miss your rain
In the grass up on a hill Outside the city, I see you Dear empty onion house Peeling and the feeling I get Unwrapping you For brighter insides, scrap the outsides
One foot in front of the other. Boots crunch golden, brown, red leaves. One foot in front of the, another. Wind carries smoke from wood fire. One foot in front of, one another.
Dear previous owners of the third house on the right,Screw you.The tiles are uneven and the cabinets are crooked and now I can't go home because of a problem you let get out of ha
You said you had to find yourself Which was confusing to me Cause I see you so clearly Your crystalline eyes like marmalade in the sunlight Your hair like chestnuts Cascading down your spine under your snapback Brushing it out of your face w
“did you get home ok?” this is my love language, the static in my ear reminding me of the fuzzy feeling I get down the back of my spine when my name crosses through your lips “did you eat already?”
Why do I work all day? Why do I not show up for dinner? Why do I not go to your games? Why do I never seem to be there when you need be? When I know you won't understand, That not everything is nice.
I dare not hope 'cause I know it can't happen Dreams aspired, Broken, shattered. I want to go back home where we loved each other Sure, money was tight but we did all right
You feel like home Or a moment worth celebrating over bob marleys' and rum Like a baby's first words And it was this poem
It was ages ago But my mind recollects these memories once more I can still hear the laughter from it's wooden door The dancing footsteps on the floor And my father's voice cloaked in a snore
I'm living in a castle made of sand. It looks to be made of some hearty stone, But I'm good at finding truth. Sometimes I pluck it out of ears, like a magician's coin. Truth is a bit more expensive.
I miss my home and all that it is, Full and loud, it is what it is, It is all that I miss. I miss my sister's smile, I miss my books and files, I love my cold kitchen tiles. The normal bend of my bed,
because i love you, i see ultraviolet whenever i close my eyes. i see my shadow, my reflection in the mirror, and i am no longer afraid. because i love you, i look at the world and i feel safe,
When will I see Fruitions of being happy What happened to respect exactly What's intact is that I watch my back Wondering when one close Decides to hide inside The lies of emotional ties
We search, seek, and destroy for distractions. Unfulfilled in distant lands…400 years still aint home. Bronze fingers.
if you prefer a specific type of living hell,if you want your brains to rot from the inside out,kid, you've found the right place.get your goddamn ass
Mop the floors, Dust the shelves, Stay indoors, Keep to yourselves, We can yell, No throwing anything breakable,
Today I finally felt was it was like to feel safe, to have that comfort of a home. I never knew what safety was. 15 different houses that I remember, that were and are supposedly "homes."
The lily is the flower for a home. But Californian poppies make me feel so home sick Roses make me angry, and any flower from Britain Is a flower for a whore. But lilies
Heat blasts from the oven The biscuits go in And replace the bacon Cinnamon rolls caked with icing Sit just waiting For those still starving Across the room The fire is stoked
Rubies glint on the sill in the light of the sun-- A light she'd once seen through miles of murk. "Happily ever after" she heard herself say, While her stranger of a husband prepared for his work.
They say "home is where the heart is,"But is that really true?I mean-- where is "home?"It's here for one person,There for another. What is "home?"Is "home" a building,A group of people?Is it even tangible?Is "home" a certain atmosphere? What i
A fire flickers in the hearth, warm and cheering, Glowing and growing, its essence my heart searing.
My Mom's quilted projects and crocheted afghan throws and all her wicker baskets collected wherever she goes, My late Dad's coffee table books and field notes from the past are precious recollections
Verse: Mist, in my eyes Ice, heart melts, freeze Dive, into ocean spacious as skies Lie, sea turned bed if dived too deep Still profound, unexplored Wonder, how change will give more
America,The land of the free and home of the brave,The ‘epitome of freedom’ that is said to have saved,Those who were previously held and enslaved From those in our society who corrupt and deprave. America’s real intentions are disputed, Our leade
I am from made up games with the neighborhood boys from polly pockets and popsicles I am from the backyards of suburban America
Can I try to escape from All my nightmares and demons Soon this era will be done The truth of time is too blunt To not cut like a sharp knife
38663 is the town where I learned to be It’s the town where I learned to climb a tree and scrape my knees I made life-long friends and stayed in playpens and slide down slides yelling “Weeeeee!”
This is a shape poem; start at the very top and read from left to right. For simplicity's sake, I uploaded the poem as an image.
They say that Home is where the heart is. That may be well and good, But truth be told, As I grow old, I think they misunderstood. My heart resides with family, with lovers, and with friends.
They told me that home was a place that made the hairs on your neck finally rest. A place where the chills were replaced with warm and love. But these walls do not protect me, remind you-
I’m from sunlight shining, Birds singing in early afternoon. The fortress beneath sheltering pine trees, Narrow paths I’ve walked a thousand times.
The Broken Hinged Door By Zoe Pierson It’s seen the good, the battered, the blessings, and scorn. The late nights of sneaking out, the arrivals of long gone people, the past, the present,
My home is not a particular place My home isn't a building to see My home isn't always a glamorous space My home doesn't belong to me I feel most at home in October
Maine is ME I'm diverse. A bit of a rocky coastline. Blistering cold yet Delighfully warm. Spontaneus and changing Like New England weather Unpredictable. Different from the others.
When I think of home, I do not think of walls and floors. I do not imagine an occupied dome With some windows and doors. Home is where love is felt. Home is where you learn to smile.
A home is best, when suitcase’s rest, upon a family’s shoulders; Through the line, often assigned, To places disregarded by foreigners.
I believe that many say, time changes It molds, grows, shapes, scrapes, You I, with tired limbs, heavy eyes, a crazy sleep schedule
Shoveling driveways, my ligaments at risk of a deep freeze, I earn my worth.Saving money, temptations of Pinterest, I earn my worth.Studying units, sleep deprivation clawing at the backs of my eyelids, I earn my worth.Building a GPA, drowning in a
In this house, we eat supper as a family, no elbows on the table, But remember, keep your emotions neutral, that way you won’t be called mentally unstable,
So long ago I barely know Much of It now I remember not Of what I thought So long ago I barely know
I was born with a heart Before it fell apart So I’ll tell of glory For THIS is My Story, I was born where it snows
This darkness of mine is not worthy of my home’s beauty And you care not, for in you there is no darkness at all. You know not of the rolling hills that I sat and longed for mutely.
From empty streets lined with overgrown trees and shrubs To concrete jungles and bumper to bumper traffic From morning sunrise To morning glare from tall glass lined buildings
My world is empty my world is full my world is dark and harsh but not cruel my world is old my world is new my world is mine only wish i could show it to you my world is fast
What Makes Me Feel Good? Coming home and having two adorable dogs jump on me. Knowing they will never make me feel bad. They won't ever judge me. They will always love me no matter what.
Tonopah is where I like to be, Tonopah is full of rich history. Tonopah is a place for exploration, Tonopah is my favorite destination. Tonopah is a place everyone should roam,
Many things in this house are broken this family is not one of them. The stove door is off the hinge, the lights are dim, and we need propane. Mom is well though, and Sisters off flying planes.
Can you sing great nightingale? I never knew you could sing so well. Do your blood bleed red like ours on papyrus? Do you pray to the goddess isis? Very few have seen you, are you a women of good or evil?
I love my hometown, but she doesn't love me back. Now my bed is in a city I don't want it at. If I don't make it home, please tell me where to go. I know we haven't seen each other, but don't let me go.
Your silouette was an outline of time, as if time had decided to develop a tongue to speak only in shadow, only of shade.
Beautified by mountains, lakes and wildlife, Africa is innocent in alluring sunrises and sunsets. She is that child born beautiful and strong, Loveable in majestic dances and laughter,
Pack up the boxes We are leaving Home. Watching my parents cry We all feel so alone. "If you cannot pay the mortgage, You need to leave. You have a two weeks warning Before we take the keys."
I should be sleeping But I miss my bed And someone holding my hand Wiping away the tears as I try to fall asleep But instead I'm alone Lying awake in a home that's not mine
Child, I have been around for a long time. Long enough to comprehend the importance of home. As the bells in my heart chime, I remember the place where I was born. East or west, that place is best.
The best part of my day is dawn. I feel the least pain then; but then I hear footfalls, “Clung clung clung” down the hallway. My pain approaches; the commencement of terror.
Leaving home is the drop in your stomach when your swimming and think you can touch the bottom but you can't. Leaving home is when I want to get off the ride even though it was my idea to get on in the first place.
The possibilties endless There in the comfort of home Tomorrow will come my sweetheart Wherever your heart may roam Remember that I love you No matter what they say For you will always be there
Ever since i was young i grew up all alone i carried a hammer to try and repair my home but nothing seemed to work until i was relieved and shown the power of poetry on a bet tv show
Voices in the dark Madness, that defiant spark Words, Rhythm, Poetry, Rhyme Escape, Express The Truth is mine. My speech on paper, The world unkind, Speak out with thunder
You rant to the sky and lay blame to the earth, for it's gravity is keeping you from flying. As passionate as you are, your fire starts to die as the sunlight begins to fade.
The water ripples silently Like all my thoughts combined, I listen for the creak of oars; Such sound I cannot find. You’ve been away too long, My Love,
I taste the magic when it begins to seep, heady, sweet; the soft slip into darkness. You are so beautiful-I don’t know what it is, but your wizened trees and your sweet
Relief only comes during the late hours of sunset, When the cool wind finally arrives Just to curl around your legs, Sighing with content, just feeling this moment of peace
Bright flourescents filling up the Friday night sky, as the big red ball that was high has now left the sky Sweat beads roll down down your face There is a special feeling to this place
Seeing my life through a different set of eyes As of yesterday, a true friend reminded me of my prize In every way, I’ve dealt with remembering wondering why
The day I watched my first slam BAM I was back at the day I heard he died And all I could do was cry A star football player, dead at sixteen
Which way should we go In this land of woe The sky has fallen to darkness The people broken and heartless Which way should we go
Oh, when will I see the mountains once more? I want to feel the crisp air on my face. The day I had to leave them my heart tore. At my home there is not such a fast pace.
New York is where it began, I knew I'd be the worlds greatest fan. I had an imperishable fever to roam, my hair would never need a comb. I knew to be truely free I would have to lose all that was "me."
Your heart is a house with open doors, And I will gladly come home To the aroma of tomato and basil Lingering on your breath,
Eyes were like a window Transparent as glass Revealing nothing but the slate concrete and ruffled grass beyond them Gripping his sky-clad hand hard, We trekked down the quiet road
How do you know what can’t be lived withoutIf you lived life before attaining it?It is simple.You hadn’t been truly living at all.
All I need is love, all I need is family. Nothing but the above, who return it readily. With open arms and warm hearts, I am Home. Home is not a city, Home is not a place.
I know where the forks are in many houses I know which light switch brightens what room I could tell you how many stairs on each staircase But I couldn't tell you which I'd choose
mine is the house with the jungle yard,where snakes may catch you off your guard,but the snakes eat the rodents and the birds eat the bugs,and i peak at the school bus through a wet shrub,
Heavy, the feeling that burrows itself in the pit of my stomach. It’s an ache that desires a concept I’m not sure I’ve ever grasped. Right now, there is a house, containing a room with my few possessions.
Your teeth will always be there, even when you're not smiling. When the tears break and fall down your face, sitting on the front porch swing,
Building nests inside of you and calling you homeYou are the creaky doors and windows whose noises are a necessity for me to fall asleepThe grave I want to spend all of my eternity in after my black hole heart collapses in on itself and I cease to
Want and need. Simple words, but refer to greed. What is it that you want? Money? Friends? Family? Solitude? What is it that you need? Money? Friends? Family? Solitude?
A lover I once had was like a stone. Constantly cold and forever unamused, they seemed an unlikely candidate, but despite all of this, they made me feel at home.
I’m from the coast of sun kissed skin due to 100 degree weather I’m from the smell of freshly made pan dulce from the supermarket and tacos from crowded swapmeets
I can't live without the constellations In his eyes. Or the way his chest moves When he sighs. I can't live without the sunshine In his laugh. Or the weight in his feet From the past.
I used to think all I need is a minute So I could think about life instead of live it All I need is some money to get by Maybe a car to drive and a house to reside I need parents who care instead of scream
Aunties are alternating Chef Shifts grandmothers are setting grandkids’ portions The is house drowning in the amazing smells and tastes of High Blood pressure, diabetes
The pale cloak The gentle rain the empty home So full of pain was once a castle but it didn't last long the foundation was rattled so it no longer stands strong
It always begins the same. You slide behind a cold cold wheel. The solid black night stretches on forever. You slip trance like as the lights fly by. Each one a life with choices and consequences.
He knew nothing but his home, and his home was the land. It raised, clothed and fed him, and he unto it. He was a piece of the whole, like a finger to the hand. It was vast, extending from each horizon, it was infinite.
If I were alone I'd wish I were home,<br/> However home has nothing left for me.<br/> I'd feel a strong bond to the times I went wrong and in regret I'd cry and plea,<br/> please let me live, laugh!<br/> Play in the bright
Alone, no that's not right. I need 'him' there right by my side. At least I have an ear to talk right off. Someone who will speak right back. We can joke around to make time past.
If you asked me what all I'd need, If I was stranded on an island with just one thing... I would have to think, Just barely, And finally deside, It's my puppy.
My home is the sky where I fly freely. Where Mother pulls the aba off my back and Father leads the way while we soar. Where Sister’s wings are soft and vibrant and we chitter and chatter and twitter
I found his wicked smile so alluring Black and blue dreaming Victim of pure deceit But your love's pristine Divine empowering I missed you Your touch and embrace
I’d like to tell you about – But I can’t. I shouldn’t go around telling people – It probably wouldn’t interest you anyway. I should probably just go, before I accidentally tell you –
Mother fails. Denies. Cries. Unused to failure, she is forced to admit He won’t apologize. It took me awhile to finalize The difference between “hypocrite” And “illness.” Mother cries.
When the sick man began to submit, Those around him began to realize, But Mother said to be compassionate. It started with an argument. In my eyes he was penalized. When the sick man began to submit.
She sat cross-legged on the ground, a little girl at her father’s feet. He had to leave. So she walked him to the door And locked it behind him. Up the stairs she flew, barging down the hallway and into her room.
The wood is cracked, The paint chipped, The gutters sprouting weeds. Leaks and watermarks make up the walls, Warped windowsills no one dares to heed. Down the stairs cement hits your feet
I need my phone My phone is my home My home is in a case My case protects my phone My home is my phone
Alone, I stand alone on this enclave Nothing to see, nobody to call home With this I will not become a slave Instead I must grow deeper in love with the brome Love is something I will never leave behind
home is built upon wood and cracked hearts with doors slamming like gunshots and the dining room tables has been split home is a funeral in my chest
In my town Animals are left behind By visitors who "forgot" The giant dog from their back seat Or the cat that sits on their shoulders As if they were merely a toy Or a trinket Or a shirt
I miss my home. I miss walking down the noisy streets. I miss hearing the laughs of the happy children in the streets. My home, my roots, my family. It’s where I long to be and I hope that one day it will be free. Free from sadness, free from pove
Dear Mama, the beauty of your soul is wonderment to my wondering self. When I was tender, I fall from walks. I stumbled in sickness and I cried, but you came around and said; "my child, my child! Don't cry, don't cry!
The feeling of jubilation resonated over me My heart was content and satisfied with glee Until one day I realized that my world had ended and he had passed away My grandfather My best friend
This is my home I don't call it my home by choice but simply by association I work a full time job and have classes every day I simply dream of laying down and resting if only for a moment
America just some island Columbus "found" in 1942 the place where we covet what doesn't belong to us where we try to obliverate what ever is not the same as us
A bar The travelers Drooping shoulders of men Hazy clouds of secondhand smoke Homebound
Right here, right now I wish my hands were magic, instead my touch turns to dust, and they can’t keep hold any more.
In my hand I hold a sword To defend or to slay? As one you are the victim And the other you have prey. Future odds determined by what A past has written. What good is old and wise
My hands fell on morning Hard leather, cigarettes Tint midnight memories. Smoldering red sun snuck Up on me. Heartbroken Mother draped in her gown Waves me off. From my home
Since moving to this faraway place Such a short time ago I've found some things to remind me
Come home my sister, Come home my brother; Let these dark days be over, And light shine upon the pathway That carries you on its back, To the warming house you know. A cloaked figure shadows,
They say home is where the heart is If that's true then I must be home; Because for a long time I was filled with stress but now I'm with ease
In the country, nestled in a valley between mountains of green, is the home I dream of for me.
I’m homesick for your body like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I can’t wait to run my fingers over you Like a key searching for a lock on a door On a dark night Only to bring the holder back to the warmth
Wounds, that illuminate...That spirit, that planted the seed…unknown!Just a biological relationship…is not a home.The soulknows you not…Depart from thee.
Every now and again I pretend That I am a princess on the run
Last night we laid in our bed and giggled about absolutely nothing. Whispering in our dimly lit room, my head pressed against you, I heard the rhythmic thumping and slow gentle rise and fall of your heart beneath your chest.
the river rushes past my feet toes scrape the surface ice cold the dirt rushes past my feet ground is hard with frost hurry hurry hurry the tarmac rushes past my feet
Home is not where my heart lies Home is not where my soul rests Home is for homework Home is for sleep Home is for petty fights Home is for drama Home is for whining
Home is a very obsure term The building I once lived in Is not home anymore The bed full of blankets And my favorite stuffed animal Is not home anymore The family that I love
I am a survivor, a Rose
Johnny came to visit when I was nine He only had the chance to just that one time He still smiled as often as he always did But his smile seemed almost crooked I asked him why that was and he said:
My own country, but I don’t own my land. I used to put my hand through the orange sand. My brother and I would count pejig, nij.
Here I am happy and healthy as I should be Thanking you for each and everyday But back then I was lost Too lost to find my way home Struggling to stay strong My whole world collapsed
I wander these streets just following my feet not knowing where to be just knowing where I've been by myself I Itravel but I never walk alone I'm a stranger to these people
I remember sitting on the swing, mid-summer With my head in my mother’s lap And a slight breeze tickling our cheeks As the cotton candy skies faded to a navy hue
What does it mean To love yourself first? Well, loving yourself means
Umbrella Soft touches graze my arms the cooling touch sinking through my shirt
Define 'happy'.... feel smiling so quickly your brightness radiates out, and blinds you. But even blind you see 'happy' because the sound of your laughter, in blacked-out eyes, paints the northern lights on your mind.
I sit in a grease sweating Chinese take out box, but some call it an airplane seat
You're a whole head above me, you leaned in close, But I turned away, this is more dangerous than I'd hoped. We're standing by my car, in the rain. I'm still not even sure why I drove all this way.
¿Dónde está papá, el final del libro de cuentos? The weathered one—The one that cascades a waterfall of shimmery glitter,
When I reach my home, Which is surrounded by none other Than the reach of woodland across the way, I keep my eyes cast down And ignore the long winding road
I never sleep now, I'm awake when the sun comes up, you know how much I hate that?
There's a place all my own. Shared, but just for me. I go and I am revived. I cry all tears for that year, and I laugh enough for a century. I am grounded and secure, surrounded by love.
The word is out now And my body is shaking. I'm cold and tired; I've been running too long. They know what they say And I can't walk away, How much I'm bound by the ways
Cough, cough. I sort sheet after sheet Checking for stains Checking for rips Checking for tears I sniffle, Allergic to the mold The dust The filth Cough.
I have always lived with strangers in my home. The agony of not having a true family is greatly disturbing. You see, demons terrorize my household.
you aremy placewithoutmadnesseven withall theearthquakesanddisasterson theinsideandoutsideyoufeel likethe wayhome
your mom told you this would happen. she told you that these people would become your best friends your confidantes your family. you didn't believe her, but you should have.
the first time in my life i ever smelled a stick of incense was at my friend lindseyswe were in the fifth grade and she was my very very very best friendshe watched all the cools eighties movies
There it goes again perpetual mosquito, flying ‘side my head Calm after the storm, after the calm before the storm With the galaxies aligning and the initial combustion engine
Flickering lights Sleepless nights I wonder When will my home be in sight? I travel alone Like a dog to a bone I search But never once glance for a phone What am I looking for?
8/19/12, age 18 At five years old, my hometown seemed like Wonderland, Countertops that towered over me, the aroma of baked goods Infiltrating the crowded sidewalks, coercing me to want a taste.
When a house is dirty, we clean it. We sweep away the dust and scrub away the stains until there is nothing left to remind us of the wreckage
What we are
Skies blueSun shiningTake me back to the landWhere my fathers come from Let me speak the languageAnd listen to the musicGive me more of the foodThat my ancestors once knew
His face was like looking at time itself Everything moving froze in his wake A chilling daze spread throughout his cheek As if one had now crossed over his own cemetery His nose was curved up into a vicious beak
perhaps dreams are a gateway to a new reality
i have visited again the place where i grew up i can taste the meals she makes and feel the love she gives us all the scent of freshly blossomed blooms fills the air around me.
A white blanket of snow settles upon her shoulders. Her bones creak when you step on them a certain way. She was generations old and had witnessed almost
Echo, you privilege soul Stand by as I pillage your home Watch as they rave your condemnation We have yet to live.
I hang around In this room I pretend that I own, I feel so ungreatfull for the life I've been thrown, and the friends I have grown, In a house full of homies and I still can't help feeling alone,
Home is gone gone... My home is a sunset going away down in the dark going splish, splash in the puddle of tears splish, splash, stomp, whin. trying to not say goodbye.
Home is where the heart is But if the heart is not at home Does it curl up in a ball Or does it find a place to roam Home is where the heart is But in this house it is not warm
Too short a time to get to know you Falling falling I kept on Falling So different yet so the same We could have sailed the world together You'd be the captain and I your first mate
Everything just seems really fragile The sophistication of a thought virus That erupted in my soul
For as long as I can remember, I have always felt so lost;
I. when the boy drawn to priesthood kissed me, his mouth burned. with triple-layer onion skin and a crucifix tongue, he tumbled down from a cloud at 9 and snapped his legs in half.
Sweet black molasses sap, Spilled from the spicket, tapped into the forbidden tree, Danced and fell behind red lips, Touched and fumbled by pale pink tongue, A raft in the nightly liquid desert,
My bones are hurt really bad My fur is not so pretty I know I have to deal with it untell you arrive I am scared for my new home But please do not be sad i am sure I will get use to you
I stumble upon the shattered road The cries of war engulf me Debris, dust, smoke… where is our home? Piercing gun shots resonate near me
Don’t laugh – you might wake her up. Keep it together, don’t tell her what’s the matter. I hope you enjoy shouldering troubles alone
My home got taken at a young age. I was catapulted into a state of rage, A state far away from any one I've ever known. Loneliness was my only friend. I did my best to try and pretend
These delicate blades of grass beneath my bare feet like her hair before sleep - home.
Your honeysuckle tongue has all the backlash of a whip,
He held her hand, He held it tight; Something about leaving Didn't feeel right. He kissed her lips And then her cheek. He wished he was there longer; He'd been home about a week.
When the ocean is far awayand the wind is full of sand instead of salt,I dive back into the green pools offorgotten peace in your eyes.I swim through lakes of cheap vodkaand expensive memories.
In a silent night, In front of the cold computer's screen,
Wherever I go I know that I know That you're missing me Like I'm missing you My far-away friend I hated the end When we said goodbye But I'll see you again
A great author once said "whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist"But as men we operate like parts in a machine, just going along with a system.The government, the controller of the machine, making rules, putting schools to control society; t
Home is wh
Finally My soul can breathe Familiar, welcome Expand my lungs Tickle my nostrils Climb up my throat To sit on my tongue I taste the counters The drawers
Is it really going to be this way?
My home is a feeling, not a place The feeling I get when I see the face of my dear and trusted family The one's with no blood shared yet bonds we see. O how I yean and yearn for ye
Home, where I relaxed. Relaxing was part of the bubble. Bubbles pop. Poping meant leaving my comfort zone. My comfort zone was small. Small, my exposure to the real world.
What is beauty?Magazines, movies, TV will have you believeIt is a mold:Flawless skin, no blemishes, no poresBodies so thin you get hungry on their behalf
Look at me: You see an ordinay real person, A man of good wit and a little shy. Look within me:
three-thousand miles away on a barren planet where kaleidoscope skies paint murals of the aliens. a town where all your friends’ families are also yours, unchained doors down every street.
They say home is where you hang your hat
Let the ev
Driving on an old country road Take me to natures mountain home Tennessee old Country Roads
She looks at the moon She starts to sing a tune a dream she had this afternoon In the desert she would roam Looking for a place called Home Were that is she doesn't know
I lost my
I lost my
I grew out my wings and flew to a new place, They said that's what they're for, so I sought out my space. A space for me to find my own- To color my feathers, To say that I've grown.
In the midst of moments, constantly transitioning from one to the other, we struggle to grip onto time. Past, future, simply living in the present. Loosing our footing on the ground we call home.
She stopped on by to say hello Although she knew no one was home She really hoped with all her heart That she could find somewhere to start
When the house shakes, the walls crumble. Then the weight of the world is on my shoulders. I'm surrounded by water. I can't see. I can't breathe. I can't think. Further, and further I sink.
Living in hell is living with you my love. I am living in hell thanks to you. Loving you, and patiently waiting for the right time to see you, and finally seeing how that moment vanish from my... our hands and my... our wait.
Someone once told me: " Leave abstract words to the politicians and religious figures to fatigue." What I have gotten from that: Abstract words are a waste of time.
I love your every being Every molecule, every cell that makes up the body holding me. You know every mark on my body The one and only spot that tickles The little joys in my life that keep me alive.
I feel it moving inside of me My mistake, my blessing, my baby I wonder if it knows how I feel If it can feel all of my fear I should have known better they say It was all my fault they say
You are a crushing wave, You are a hurricane, Of mercy and love. You are the call we've made,
Looking in the mirror
I know I g
This wasn't for me, I did this for you. Each cut and each bruise, And every beating in between. No food, Just water, Day by day. and there goes the weight.
To have faith is to defy logic. It takes faith to think positive. It takes faith to believe that there's a Creator
Some would say that their life is better than ours; some would say our life values more than their own. What is your definition of life?
Dreaming in the twilight, Watching the sun fall into night, Looking out from Grandmother Window. Lacy curtains hung with care; See the moon, reflecting there.
Dreaming in the twilight, Watching the sun fall into night, Looking out from Grandmother Window. Lacy curtains hung with care; See the moon, reflecting there.
Home. What is it? Where is it? Who’s there? But you don’t know, Won’t know, Because you’ve never been there. You’ve never seen their faces, Never closed the spaces,
I want to go back to that place, that place I call home. America has always been there for me, But Japan keeps calling me back. Where I lived is now foreign to me. Nothing seems right,
I like to think when two roads diverged in a yellow wood I took the one less traveled, but instead, I feel as if I have forged my way amidst the trees and debris somewhere between them both.
to start a letter no one knows, this generation has yet learned to grow in love, or simplicity, to be of what used to be,
Home is a small place that somehow still has room for everyone. Home is filled with strangers. Definition: Family you've yet to come to know.
Sometimes in life there are perfect moments.
I treasure the time I spend with you
I have never owned the roof above my head,And that in itself is rather sobering.From birth I have been renting my right to exist in this world,
Slip slowly past the run down bar Past the street of collector cars To the place where the painted bench sits To the house where I lived There’s the street that I ran down
Slip slowly past the run down bar Past the street of collector cars To the place where the painted bench sits To the house where I lived There’s the street that I ran down
The landscape is barren The wind blown is warm Some bathe in the sunlight Some burn with its scorn Some lie there in waiting With unquenchable thirst Except the water is gone
Taking A Loss By: Eric Turner To know how it feels to lose someone that was never really there, yet you wanted them very badly to be...
Broken down and abundant hope contaminates the air choking the fulfillment of the undeserved knocked out unconscious on the side of a curve racing through the rain lies an unsteady heartbeat
Sculpted from minerals and then the spirit flows,
Control. Let it go hold it in Breathe Control. Hit a wall Scream so loud Breathe Control. Uncontrolable emotions Cry like mad
your words, they stingjust like a razor blade upon my skinsinking deeper with each cut you slit
Rusty nails pin these twisted roots of the house, which so adorned, is now decrepit. Flies decorate the windowsill Constellations of shattered glass The ember cracks, a small, resilient base reduced to ash.
Moving the mug from knee to knee, Scratching his foot sleepily, Legs crossing, uncrossing gracefully: This is the state of settled unease.
The light shines through the leaves burning iris after iris
My True Home Towering buildings in downtown, small plazas too. Strip malls, restaurants, and outlets. Sidewalks, ocean, palm trees and gorgeous homes. Tampa, Florida; my state.
Oh my dear, I can hardly wait.Soon we two shall dance with the teasing belladonna hoping to ensnare us bothYou have been too long without a partner, but you have been beautiful
Pain made your hands like houses.
The worst thing about depression is, you don't care about anything. I don't care if my father knows I hate him for all he has done The tears, the tourtue.
I never understood why people get homesick until I met you.
Its these that scare me more than anything its that what's said today
Not a home, simply a house. too loud to hear a mouse always fussing constant fighting
I have a house I call my own, within a white cerebral sky. It’s lively and it flows, but someday it’ll die. Splattered with pink, red, and white,
"your body is the house you grew up in" he used to tell me, "all the paint may not be fresh and there are cracks in the doors but they make you more comfortable to live in, my dear"
Fighting, it's all that they can stand to do. Crying silently, I ask myself why they constantly argue. It is not my mother and father that argue; for that has long past
Your powers all I need- The only thing I see. You see, what'chu got Is all they all really need. My dream job
A brown leaf in an autumn breeze
Love May I lay with you? It is not to fill in my void, gutted by loneliness. Nor to feel a sexual pleasure. Though I can, it would not be to tell you my life story.
Where You AreAnd where you are is home with meIn a home that’s cozy and a bed soft as can beI know you dream of those lonely nightsWhere the darkness crept in on you and you could never fight
It all started when I was just a thought in my mothers mind A guessing game for the ages I waited Waited in the corners of my mothers heart In the nutrient enriched darkness of uncertainty Of care
It is 2 A.M. on Friday morning. The world is asleep while I lay restless
on cloudy days she sits alone
His eyes are like home, A warm place, A fresh breath of air, That let her know he was safe. His smile is lovely, A sweet sound, A good mood, That let her know he would share happiness.
Favorite song is my saving grace Laptop that I purchased fails
As I retire I perform a similar routine It involves a person Sometimes it is dream He is only a boy
I crave an ambitious path
She feels beautiful, free in the mind. She thinks people follow; she's left behind. It's rotted her soul, her heart and smile. Takes a pill to feel sane,
The day you pressedyour body against mine,was the day I was sureI could, without a doubt,build a home formyself,beneath your trembling arms,and heavy breathing.
Welcome to my Nightmare She broke another bowl today. It was the second one this week.
We demand.We expect. We desire. We want to strive. We want to live. We abuse. We forget. We ignore. Many suffer for us. We tend to forget them. We need to stop. We need to help.
You ask me what's important to me, what makes me happy,
He had dreams without Ambitions; A house, but not a Home.
I woke up early in the morning When I looked out the view was boring All I saw was old homes and grey cement No more green orchards Now I was tortured Stuck looking at the rubble
Back home I spent a lot of time in the rain.I spent hours walking around my neighborhoodNot in light sprinklings or simple showers,but in the heavy downpours that punctuated my childhood.
Maybe it’s 17, and you’re running down the road at 2 am, hoping that the boy you love is running
"What's a home?" What do you call a place Where you are unconditionally love? Where you feel completely safe When your life is really rough?
It’s a drink on Saturday nights, But you better be at church on Sunday. It’s high school football, Friday night lights, We all dread work on Monday. The late summer nights, starry and warm,
She went for a swim. When the sun was high and vicious and scalded the ground she walked on, she went for a swim.
I am the mountains and they are me,
I got a new mattress today. Fresh, clean, and filled with springs To hold me up when I’m unable. My new mattress hugs me goodbye Every day, when I leave to go to school,
Look Up And see the big red building spreading out in front of you like a horizon begging you to reach out and touch it. Home. And you stand
I hide in my personal cave; I cocoon myself in the comforting darkness. If I'm quiet enough I can hear the monsters. They screech and holler at each other as if they are in pain,
What they don't tell you about the first time you come home
Home is feet running to meet you The sparkle of a child’s eye A moment of bliss Home is the innocent laughter The precious tears A memory of a night
Oh beautiful Mother, with limbs branched outward, rustling the voice of your brother the wind.
I am the one the leaders should answer to, I am the one that began a nation, I am the one who fights, the one who dies, I am the one you depend on. I am the people!
Kids are lighting fireworks on the two streets that make a Horseshoe where the Dallas county line breaks off into anarachy; a word that looks like two lines of dirt made by the same child’s hand.
The sheet rock itself was frayed. Not much pressure would break such a thin wall. The entire lenghth of my arm touched break to break of the impact-hole
I terminal-ran at the bottom of midnight from my red-eye flight out from under Greenwashington, DC. It was the firsttime on myown. The run was on a desperateloop away from all my family.
“Wherever we sprang from in the first place, that's where we're headed now.
Easy come, easy go
Last year I sketched our dream home with two balconies and a koi pond in the backyard. It was simple pen and paper
A home does not simply mean a place you live in. it's the comfort and familiarness to you. Home is where your heart belongs. it's where you feel completely safe and comfortable.
When I was young I thought my home was great When I was ten he hit me I swore it would never happen again When I was 15 I left my perfect home with perfectly broken bones When I was 18 I shut the door and never came back
When I was small and scared,
Mrs— Raise your hand. Creeping hand…. inches into the air…. Mrs— Mrs. you think that you know me. You know the way I act in school.
When I look to the sky, I know... I know I used to be there, a small clump of atoms in the stars of someone else's sky, As I peer back 13.7 billion years, I know...
Difference is separated in a community Where it's hard to find another To break away from negativity Just to be together. Sometimes belonging never really feels equally connected
You left for a year,After my grandmother dearLeft for Heaven to watch you.I thought you'd come to stay,As we had to fly away
Blow Pop Smack Blow Pop Smack Chew Chew Sigh Chew Chew Blow Pop Smack Sigh.
home is not lost but can not be found home is not destroyed but can not be saved home is where you feel welcomed but also feel lonely home is where you are free but also are imprisoned
One morning I woke to the sound of my Family's despair, and I ready myself for the day ahead and descend down my aunt's stairs. Why me? I asked myself sorrowfully.
There's a lot that I'm thankful for, but there is one particular thing that I'll forever be thankful for. In my time of struggle, my aunt and uncle took me in, making me feel like one of their own.
You never know what it's like to grow up alone I wasn't complaining, just simply saying But it is really hard to come home to a broken home It's not that I'm asking for a better home, just simply explaining
I am the ship that has carried pirates and runaways through the saltiest seas just because I'm too kind to let souls sail alone. I am the one with the treasures Every ruby, emerald and diamond
Racing around the bustling city people line the main road that runs for miles Dodgeing traffic As mothers and fathers repetitively drag their kids to school to go work long
It is a busy place, say the worn marks in the floor where many shoes and chairs have hit in the years before; A homeschool family lives here, say the schoolbooks on the table
Home is not where you live. It is not your mother drowning in alcohol, or your father's disappointed looks, or the secrets hiden in your room. It is your body quivering
Walking up to the front door, I see your eyes widen with disbelief. “This mansion is your home?” I shake my head and unlock the door, “No, this is my house,” I correct you
When I was little, about 6 or 8 my dad built me a dream house. He built me my club house he built it with his bare hands. Those days when he was in my backyard creating his masterpiece was the most time I had ever consecutively spent with him.
The world we live in Is it real? are we real? Do we exits? are all this part of Our imagination. Is it because We been here, in this same spot
His green eyes look at me I am so in love How this boy own my heart He makes me swoon when he says my name I am his army I am his voice He is my pride He is my love
We cannot know what pain feels like Though evidence suggest it is unpleasant We cannot know who they were before Though evidence suggest they are now sick We cannot know who their loved ones are
From the first sight I was in love. With towering giants of green and deep red, Crashing waves against rocky shores,
I am from glossy pages still unread, from Miracle and hydrofluorcarbon. I am from the ochre and unkempt backyard. I am from the Peace Lilly, the forest of Pines, whose branches reach high above.
Running away. Maybe for a day. See who cares, When I stray to far from the walkway. Just pray That I'll be ok And hope I'll be back today.
Tiny steps at first, Lost, Unsure, You never know where you're going until you've already gotten there. One step, Two, You see the world in bright colors. Running, Laughing.
You live, you die, you laugh, you cry That is how life goes, but i wonder why Some say it is like a roller coaster It takes you to your highs and lows Others say it is like a journey
Surrounded.By familiar faces that guide me.Yet still, I am lost. Confused.But not numb. I feel frightened by the disarming smiles.Betrayed by the broken promises. Hurt by the distance.
Have you ever had a moment where you kinda just think This isn't where I'm supposed to be And you're just not where you want to be.
Destroyed from the inside out,A tragedy sinners do not mourn.No pity for a star. Here bright and burning,Here dark and cold,Alive as a star,Dead as a star.
My head hurts. / My throat screams. / My hands shake. / This is no dream. / My eyes water. / I crouch down. / I cover my ears, / To shut out sound. / I miss my home. / I miss the quiet. / It's just too much. / All of this riot. / I want a hug.
The Veldt "To play out your life in the style you want is life's greatest gift - Discovering that style you optimize on is life's greatest secret."
We tread along the path, Searching, Always searching. I look left, You look right, We are one, Searching, Always searching. We climb the highest mountains,
The petals fall off the flower And drop slowly toward the floor Each second between the petals I spend inching towards the door For, I just can’t wait to leave Though I wish that I could stay
I see a world below but nowhere to say hello I am up in the tree speak to me For time is too slow and I can't let you go Let me hide in the sun's rays because I know you can't stay
Fault of Destiny As a female it is destine to endure the pain of feminism. The curiosity of Eve will forever haunt the innocent. A normal female
Less than two weeks and Im unsure I can bare much more. I wait for letters that don't come from people who stopped caring. To do things I don't want to for the right to do what I love.
Here lie bindhis. As broken CDs Battle the bustling bobby pins. The bent spoon curls in the corner. Pointy pencils Puncture the plastic wrapper. The mighty matches meet their foes,
sometimes i walk barefoot in the streets of queens the smell of wet cement is all but too familiar to me pile of dog shit on the sidewalk gum stuck to my filthy native feet
Mosquitoes swarmed above my heads That was my bed time story Mother stood outside hand washing the clothes At a quarter to ten It’s okay you can ask No we didn’t have a washing machine
My heart's in the theatre, where all my dreams were made My heart's in the theatre, where those same dreams were laid, to rest, until I came back and found them once again,
The wind in the willow the will o' the wisp A treehouse down where I used to live Up in the willow the willow that weeps Outside the orchard my maple held me
There’s always talk of moving Always the possibility of leaving Packing a bag and never looking back There’s always that glimmer of hope that sparks inside of me, But a skeptical shadow over powers everything,
Ratta - Tat - Tat I hear you coming from your room, “how’d you get out?” I asked Rosy cheeks and a big grin a three year old can make, “I climbed down” he says,
Mi patria Mi gente Mi raza Derrama sangre, Como la Corriente Pintando las calles. El vino bendecido
A flame that consumes; destruction that follows wherever it goes. But with a home in the middle of all that pain; it seem like it is never going to make it back out.
I grew up amongst the golden turfs and extensive rows of olive, Where songs of contentment and love were played, Where mothers and fathers cared for their young,
I built a place of brick and stone, Somewhere to lay my head, The light shines through the southern face, A window near my bed. This place I made shields me from all, The elements outside.
Silent elfin streams drift through and between small hills covered in dead coastal redwood leaves, soft and plush, my toes slide between little needles and soil made of decomposed forest.
Toddville, the place where I live A small town right off of a busy highway Home of Monroe Township Fire Station Forgotten school house Toddville, all the things I see Bouncing balls in the ballpark
Here in the big city that never sleeps… The building of Empire, the Midtown rush, From places to go, and people to meet, Reborn every day from chaotic hush. The boulevard of lights and New Year’s Dreams, Isle of immigrants, Lady Liberty. Horse-dra
Smile or pain Which will it be to speak with a voice or let action take the lead Should I go south, through a maze I know around or should go north to maze that looks unbound
Birthed by summer water pumping from fire hydrants - as we drown each other in laughter but that was before firefighters burnt down our banter with their wrench.
cracked rum eyes drum drum drum huh-umming a tune swirling like a ball in a jug a warbling happiness, tickling edge of tongue not whitman’s yawp but I’d like to think it’s similar
The brilliant colors
I am from out-of-the-notebook poetry, happy and sad. From broken Luna ukuleles and loud music. I am from the constant but happy silences, echoing into the night.
My tongue twists in rapture, Captivated by the banquet of sounds to choose from. Without doubt, this sundry is a soundboard forced to play only 1-4.
We all have been stuck the mud once or twice. we say we cant find away but its always there. Welcome home. Your not alone. we're by your side now. The better has come.
I look at you, and all I seeIs raw emotion, pure, unrefined.Tepid air dances in from outside, Deathly still yet comforting.Your blue-green eyes bind with mine in this dim light;
I once lived in a town with a bar on one end and a church opposite The days were filled with haze and the nights lingered as the hands on the clock kept ticking
Land of the freeLand of the apatheticLand of the dreamersLand of the broken Home of the braveHome of the hopefulHome of the better tomorrowHome of the bitter
Cigar smoke, possibly from Belgium, wafting through the air. Children’s laughter; the chime-like sound of babbling brother and sister, perhaps. A thin silhouette
at age sixteen. finally learning my father was a fiend. i've been lied to all these years truth has been set free, now i'm holding back tears. my life represents pseudology.
I leave the place I once called homeNo turning back, no scared thoughtsMy future uncertained, untoldMy quest, I know, is long and boldI walk on what seems like forever
Wayne, New Jersey Heimat ist ein schöner Ort Der Ort, wo ich lebe Großer Vorort Mit dem Kleinstadtgefühl
(poems go here) Wish Heaven had a phone so I could hear your voice again. I thought of you today, but that is absolutely nothing new. I thought about you yesterday, and day before that too.
It may move up and down, It may move side to side, It may be corrupt, It may fight with itself, It may not be perfect. It is the land I know, It is the people I love,
My Mothers perfume lingering to my nose With her tight hugs of comfort. The strong embrace of a bestfriend wiping The tears away with laughs and smiles as Wide as can be.
Everyone seems to have it, That one place that feels like home. Well I am no exception, And this is my home away from home. I have been going here for over six years, But it feels like a lifetime.
I know that sometimes when you fall down you have to stay down for a bit Because that fall knocked out Every breath of hope you carried And you don’t want this world to see you cry
He aimlessly cries for a place call home as everyone keeps telling him “soon” Reaches out with fragile arms Into an empty space of an eggshell white Only to be told “don’t do it”
This house is full of the sort of warmth that comes from good conversations and good books. A welcoming place that won’t change you, but will help you change if you want it.
To my anonymous adolescent, I’m sorry. Sorry for suppressing your existence and never giving you the chance to clock in and serve your time here on this earth.
back home in back woods back where rain smells like more than sweat and the after taste of fish but is breath we breathe infinitely
I left the birthing house a while ago. A haven of mournful mothers and cries of new breaths pierced the air— absent the slap of fathers.
Last summer we tiptoed across driftwood panels. Barefoot, but carefully alert we’d watch as poison ivy clung onto both sides of the boardwalk, embracing
To the lakes, Oceans, Waterfalls, Oceans you fill with purity The fish and sea creatures swim You give us all you can give To the waves that move on your surface Down riverbanks you flow
She stumbled She fell She got up and she walked. She stumbled she fell She got up And she walked. She stumbled She fell And she stayed there.
Scared and alone No one around for miles To just lend an ear. You traveled for days Just hoping to find someone Who would care. People cannot fill this void, Humans cannot make you whole.
Why recycle? Because it is a simple chore to do, To do by putting paper and plastic into bins, Bins whose markings show, Show the arrowed triangle of refuge, Refuge that will reduce waste,
I want to feel the ocean breeze, I want to feel the light of the moon As we lie together on the sand, I want to hear nature's melodious tune.
Inevitable. My fate is inevitable. That last sweet goodbye will cling to my mind like moss to a tree for the rest of my life. Sometimes that moss is so beautiful. The tree's greatest quality.
Above the river's bank rising slowly in the sky, casting a reflection upon the water. Saving the world from total darkness the moon finds its place among the stars
My first home was in my mother’s womb, wrapped in the warmth of her love, and surrounded by the rhythmic bum-bum of her beating heart. The sound of comfort to me, the sound of safety,
Staring out the window, I take a final look, At the place I spent my Childhood; the place I found Both friends and enemies. The one place I always found Someone to talk to.
Snow drifting, falling to the ground Fire burning, family all around It's the time I've been dreaming of so long The first snow I walk outside, staring up in bliss Spin in circles, shriek at all I've missed
I am from beloved dolls, from bubble wands and crabapple trees. I am from bright colors and playful spirits,Bookshelves and stacked boxes. I am from dandelions and low-branched trees.
Home? What is Home? Home is where the full heart bursts With love and laughter In joy immersed. Home is where the spirit feels Safe, secure, revived, And healed.
How is she supposed to know That you're love was really so When nothing but lies were told You've broken our hearts Tore her family apart A home no more Only an empty house More burdens to hold
The effects of a past riddled with bullets; empty shells, empty lies, hit the pavement, resounding with the weight of all lies past. You can't tell me, with all of these wounds, parts of us didn't die.
She is light. Filled with wonder and beauty - She's the goddess of light. The drum of your laugh; The tinkle of her sigh; A Caress from you instills in her Flight.
There's something magical About the unpredictable weather. Something cathartic About the fiery orange and soft pink of the expansive sunsets. But these simple treasures can't defeat the feeling of
I'll hold you still, even still So trust me and this bridge we've built Made of wood and stones we haven't thrown I won't cast against you why you have grown
Dear Anthony, I'd like to set aside order for a moment And what's inadvertently thought of as important To spill my heart on a palette With words left uncalloused Waiting to engrave
I don't understand. That's all I can say. It's my life you have banned! It's the same thing every single day...
They talk, they hide in fear of me. They fear that I will find their whisper, Seek their faults, shout no surrender, Until their gossip, dead and lonely, be And until then, I wait and see
Trees provide a shady canopy, a majestic river flows throughout the ‘hood. The air maneuvers its pathway swiftly, with a faint whistle of the little engine that could.
A hand of tension One finger down at a time Three...Two...One Eyes close The wind blows The rain falls The house falls The cradle tips A tear drops Our hearts break
HOME Home is where the heart is. It‘s where I hang my hat. The comfort of my Dad’s chair Is usually where I sat.
They took it You spent years Pouring your heart Soul and sweat Into the wood and nails The blisters and measured Imperfections Until one day Your beautiful masterpiece Was complete
When I’m homesick I go on google maps. But this time I can’t seem to find what I’m looking for. See I know my address and they say home is where the heart is, But the heartbeat here doesn’t sound familiar.
Why do you think I argue? Why do you think I scream? It’s not because I hate you, And it’s not an evil scheme.
I live in a place where talk is cheap. Three cents a rumor and scandal comes free. Daily dish for a penny, spilled beans are on sale. Discount subscriptions for The Juicy Detail. Tragedies, pregnancies at huge blow out prices!
I can't remove the sap, with spots of dust and needles clinging to my love and life lines.
When you look at a tree, With its monstrous trunk And shining emerald leaves, You see only a tree.
The thunder sounds different here - like a metal trash can thrown gently to the ground. It echoes weakly, dissipating sadly on hesitant wings. It’s not the same as at home where it rumbles and grumbles,
I like radio static and sleeping by rivers in a tent, with wood smoke as my blanket and campfire glow as my pillow.
The sun emits fading rays Warm breeze brings still air to life Twirling and spinning, the wind invites leaves To dance in unison, touching the warm earth Arriving at tiny bare feet A little girl giggles
They say, I ought not be involved, With the people here, The culture of my peers. Their ways are defiled, By their own makings, But you come from better stock, So you must not,
I watched the flames lick the ivory walls, Of my house, Of my home. Now I trod on sodden ground, Like a sponge under my feet. I pick up the pieces, Charred memories. A single tear leaks from my soul.
I love burying myself under the soft waves and forming a new, blind world under the wet, blue blankets
I am from the shores beyond, whose travels for the Dream took so long I am from heavy New England accents and snow storms strong I am from busy streets to dirt roads From tall pines to naked sidewalks
life’s not a puzzle at least not for me i’m like the sand between your toes there’s no one place for me to go i get by in the creases of it all i’m not a piece i just hold them all together
Everyone was born with parents, How long they stayed is different. Everyone once had a home, Whether it was the streets or somewhere warm. Everyone once held innocence,
It’s like stepping on to another planet; into a dream. The sights, the smells, the tastes, the colors, the people, the stories. It’s a beautiful chaos, enticing you in with its exotic hand offering to hold yours.
Our bodies the same, alien to us both. Their neatly planted garden I trampled with my feet. She locked me in a closet, the bitch. Fat black cat, emerald eyes that burned through my window.
Home is where my heart lives Home is where my heart breaks Home is all that heals my aches If it were not for my home than I would truly be all alone
Urban streets, bustling with life in bright afternoons, Become quiet and cool on cloudy days and early nights-- A barren wasteland without thrum of foot traffic And screams of emergency sirens.
these five cold walls construct a tiny room with a metal-barred door to keep me here. this place has been my home for quite some time now and i grow old and weary in waiting.
No one knows where home is. It's not exactly where your heart is, Where you grew up, Or where you spend the most time. It's where you mind wanders the most. It's where you feel the safest
It's been a while since I left home. The fighting and the bickering Were like nails on my brain Gouging at my thoughts And always digging deeper. You think it stops when you leave That it's out of sight
Explosions of galaxies fill the night air. Prayers of a hundred hands kneel before the sky. And I'm weary, Lord. I need hope.