home
Learn more about other poetry terms
Sometimes I miss being a kid
Being younger
Being cradled by my mommy when I get a scrape on my knee
Playing outside with my sister and laughing
Going to the park and having fun with my daddy
I was swept away, into an unknown place.
As I floated alone, I held a certain feeling.
One without a meaning, but gave sudden healing.
No longer clouded by worry or shame,
I was swept away, into an unknown place.
As I floated alone, I held a certain feeling.
One without a meaning, but gave sudden healing.
No longer clouded by worry or shame,
Trust me: all mothers are incredibly special
Wonderful, beautiful and phenomenal
Without mothers, there will be no living
Willkommen Zuhause
Willkommen auf der Erde
Wo niemand perfekt ist
Und nichts ist immer richtig.
Willkommen Zuhause
Welcome Home
Welcome to Earth
Where nobody is perfect
And nothing is always correct.
Welcome Home
I want to go home
As I watch the flashing lights
I want to go home
As they start to take him away
I want to go home
While I'm sitting in the tri=uck
I want to go home
My first home stood by shells and sand alike. I passed the days and nights down by the waves. Home two had fields and woods through farms to hike. Our fence was long but I climbed all the staves. The barn held horses, cows, and many goats. But Cr
I can't face my shadow without the sun rise.
The higher it rises then the more my mind settles and is at peace.
Red and yellow rays combined to shine and give me the hope I forget still exists.
A heart is like an egg.
i met the devil last night
she wore my face
and had slinked on my body like a coat
she looked like myself,
though a few years younger
Address this letter to the pieces of myself I left in Pennsylvania.
The broken shards of the boy I used to be
The return address to where I learned that fear was a four letter word I would carry with me always.
For the first time in a long time I am writing about being alone, but not in my usual way,
Usually when I talk about being alone, it is in a negative way, and it leaves me with only sad things to say.
All the adults think that their kids are just
Dying to get
Older,
Leave their childhood far away
End the Legos and playdates, leave
School hoping to get paid. Buy their first
Dream city
Cars honking, people screaming
Walls of art
Filled with graffiti
Six Flags and Disney
Might spot a celebrity
I noticed your wore down, determined hands held stories only you collect.
I noticed how your skin held scars through the physical.
I noticed your childlike smile and how I wish it could have stayed there for a lifetime.
in biology class
we learned that everything in the body
is constantly in motion
because stagnation fosters disease
i went home
The water's smooth and peaceful;
The fireflies stars, tonight,
And the moon glows serenly above me.
I lay in the grass, wind fanning my face;
The sky is midnight, velvet.
The bridge gate opens
The bus shipping us
from bank to bank
slowly moves
on the border-crossing bridge
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.
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 notice 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
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
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
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
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.
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
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
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.
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?[1]
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
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
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
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
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.
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.
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
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
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.
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 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,
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.
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.
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
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 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
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
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.
As I retire
I perform a similar routine
It involves a person
Sometimes it is dream
He is only a boy
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.
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 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,
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.
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
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
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
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.
