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Introspection Home Poems | Introspection Poems About Home

These Introspection Home poems are examples of Introspection poems about Home. These are the best examples of Introspection Home poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Light Poetry | |

OLD HOUSE

I’m looking at an old house
Called home    by someone

I will look at any old house    new    or    old    but
Home is ALWAYS an old house

Old people open doors
Walk the floors

Old people light the candles
Decorate the mantles

And    the roof ever slants
So young thoughts may go

Sliding down    to settle on ground
In front of home

Seasons come
Seasons go
 
Cloudy    bright
Rain    or    snow

Inside    though
Home is    ever    warmed

By timeless ghosts
Of hearth    reborn

I’m climbing the stairs of an old house
Called home by someone

To open a door
Find stairs     and    climb some more


To follow the footsteps of some vague someone
In an old house called home
...............................................................
For Trudy






Details | I do not know? | |

That Bullet Was For You

While walking through a hospital one day, a veteran I did see
He was in a wheelchair with both legs missing, and he did it for you and me.

I turned around a corner and down another hall
Only for my eyes to behold a family who has lost it all

A five year old cried out,"Why did daddy have to die?"
The mother held her son closer while she greived and began to cry

The mother of that young Marine, who had fought over in Iraqu
Wandered why her son so brave, didn't survive the enemie's attack

The father of that soldier, hung his head to cry
He was a retired soldier himself, why couldn't he have been the one to die?

His heart broken sister, sits in shock and tries to deny
The death of her older brother, he was killed and don't know why

A few days later, a family, everybody all dressed in black
Went to the funeral of a twenty-five year old who too our bullet in Iraq

The Bible says "thou shalt not kill." and "Love your neighbor" too
Maybe our soldiers aren't doing what's right, but they still take your bullet for you

They sleep in foxholes, and eat in trenches, and do all that they know to do
They rest in the sand with no comforts of home and they take your bullet for you

The restless nights turn into days, you wouldn't believe all they go through
THe rest of us sit at home and gripe, and still they take your bullet for you

The next time you hear a 21 gun salute, don't condemn as others do
The next time the taps are being played, remember, they took that bullet for you.


Thanks, Veterans for your sacrifice.


Details | Rhyme | |

Going Home

The path leading home is a narrow road
More so if you do not know the way.
The burden of many years a heavy load
As mirages of memories dance and sway.

I teeter on yesterday's sheer abyss
Avoiding the solid boulders of time.
Afraid that unknown turn-offs I'll miss
For yesterday's roads have no reason or rhyme.

The road back home moves over treacherous terrain
Winding through the lonely corridors of my heart.
Black crows keep pecking at my sickly brain
As the descent into yesterday rips me apart.

The road back home is desolate and bare
The landscape so foreign and unknown.
Easy to lose my way,easy not to care
For yesterday's promises are tossed and blown.

The road leading home is one of defeat
A journey searching for fragments of me.
For reality can simply not compete
With the illusions I call my memory.

Home is where the heart is, so they say,
Between self and heart lies many years.
The heavy toll simply too much to pay
For the way back home is obscured by tears.


Details | Narrative | |

Death Of The Saints

A cousin called the other day saying "Another cousin has passed away".

Well my husband said "How old was she.""

"Ninety-eight".

A stalwart woman who had served family and community well. Producing one child that 
became a missionary serving in a foreign land..

While talking the cousin asked "Did you know ______"?

My husband answered, "Well, I don't think that I knew them".

The cousin proceeded to tale this story.

"The man had been down with cancer for a while and passed recently..The funeral had been 
conducted and the hearse had gone on to the cemetary..The family car with the family was 
not to far behind..But when it pulled up, the wife of the deceased did not get out and the 
funeral home staff was gathering around..The funeral home director decided to go see what 
was going on ...."

The cousin said, " That this funeral home director told him". "That he had been in this 
business for thirty-five years and faced something that he had never had happen to him or 
any other funeral home director that he knew."

The funeral home director said, "When I got to the family car, I found the wife of the 
deceased had passed from a massive corornary."

She had said, "I don't know how I will live without him." She didn't have to learn. God called 
her home..

The roosters crow, the crows craw and are answered by the gobble of the turkey across the 
way..


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Cry only for those who cannot hear you

The wind did stir the thought in kind wanting - for if she knew my soul, just a spark 
of it, I would be a rich man...

So long this ribbon of love that flows over the rocks of age and distant torment...
The gate keepers sit alone watching, waiting for the violators who dare not call 
mundane theirs...

It is those shackles which bind misguided dreams that which make fertile ground for 
the barkers at the door, for what else does one need to grey the vision and dull 
delight?

You carry the scent of the well-traveled said the withered old man - I too know your 
pain, that which comes from never knowing home - those of us who seek blindly 
that which the world cannot give - home is not a place but a thought in time and 
nothing more than a stop to rest your ambition...

Cry only for only those who cannot hear you, for it is selfish to do otherwise and 
seek home in the gentle embraces of those that know you...

Be kind to those who would bite you, for in doing so it will bring light to a dark path...

AND

Always rejoice in life - it pisses them off and helps them to see the tragic flaw of 
their diluted beliefs...


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!


Details | Free verse | |

LOVE

Loyalty
One self
Virtuous
Eternity


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A PART OF SOMETHING

God created hands for building things. Sometimes before you build something, you must first destroy something else.

Wildfires are never supposed to be put out. Their sole purpose is to burn the entire forest to the ground, transform living things to fertilizer, making room and preparing the soil for new growth.
It is almost paradoxical, 
that there must be death before birth

My hands have stared the grim reaper’s reflection inside the pool of my best friends blood. An old student I used to tutor told me that I am the best brother she could have asked for
She said she will always love me
This was after I burned every bridge that traversed the gaps between us
Stared at her from across her desk
Told her that she will never be my sister. That our bloodlines will never match.
Our gene pools are just strangers that made the same wrong turn.
I spent so much time trying to find my way back that I never realized I was home in being lost I found something comfortable, without expectations. I only corrected myself after she spoke,
because I heard something familiar in her voice.
She sounded like family.

I have the scarred and wrinkled hands of a senior citizen
I’m only 22 years old
I once got my palm read
This gypsy woman told me that my lifeline should have been cut short when I hit 17.
That was a year ago.
What do gypsies know anyway
I have defied the odds my entire life.
Been broke down and built back up too many times to count
My fingernails chewed raw to the cuticle out of anxiety
I enjoy the taste of my own pain
Sometimes I use my own hands to destroy myself just to see who my real friends are who will build me back up when I can’t do it alone

My hands have a desire to learn how to cook, but I’m not that great.
So when I am alone,
I tend to be hungry, not just for food though.
I starve for someone to talk to
It never satiates, because it’s not you.
I know what it tastes like to completely give myself to someone.
My biggest fear is being abandoned.
When I look into your eyes, I am not afraid.
I need to cook you up a feast of myself, then feed it to you every day for the rest of our lives
Please tell me what I really taste like,
Be honest.

Years after my grandfather passed away, my grandmother moved into my aunt’s house.
Since I was 5, every time I speak to her she asks me:
“Spenser, did you thank God for waking you up today?”
I think to myself, I never did tell my eyes to open themselves. It just happened.
So I don’t know how to respond to her correctly.
I tell her that I love her, that I am writing a lot.
She tells me that she puts her hands together for me every night
Prays that I will get the job I want
I guess some prayers do get answered.
Sometimes two hands in the right position, matched with a conversation with God,
Can change things.
I even accidentally call that place home sometimes.

My dream is that my hands evolve into wolves, become part of a pack and work together with other hands to make a difference
Some days they will be the alpha male.
Full of confidence, at the head of the pack
Other days I need someone to show me the right way to go
Because if I’ve learned anything
It’s that I am not always right
I can not always be in control of everything
The only thing I have ever really wanted is to know
That my hands were truly
A part of something.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Speed of Life

In the childhood home her mother spins her child
Round and round we go happiness seems to overflow
And the childhood  goes by; faster, faster

A growing child with so much energy running and having fun
Careless and free he runs across the yard
He is growing up; faster, faster

Only in middle school and already a rebel
Sticking up for a friend and getting in a fight
He has courage but still he runs; faster, faster

High school has come at last
The odd man out he cries for attention
Into depression he spirals; faster, faster

At the high school prom he meets a girl
The hearts beet together and the music beats in their ears
They are falling madly in love; faster, faster

Barely a year and a kid on the way
To work and back the same routine, every hour, every day
A wedding is coming closer; faster, faster

So far a happy life, and a good career
They buy a home and outside he spins his child
Another childhood is going by; faster, faster

His life was long another one has started from it
But now the ambulance move; faster, faster
And his heartbeat fails; slower, slower


Details | I do not know? | |

The Beach of Promises

The Beach of Promises


1.


Fingers entwined, barely touching,
turquoise waters teasing your dancing toes,

strolling along that serene deserted beach,
our promised dreams within aching reach.


2.


Hands clasped, holding on,
sea-breezes tickling the nape of your neck,

walking together, alone, vowing to never breach,
the dreams dreamed on that faraway velvet beach.


3.


Hands in my pockets, alone,
traces of you linger, teasing,

lost in my scribbles, your memory fading out of reach,

my thoughts ablaze, now and then,
catching a whiff of your fragrance,

wafting through alleyways of nostalgia,
your hand in mine on our pristine beach.




Details | Acrostic | |

Reflections: Midlife Crisis

P     aranoia permeates, etching itself into your fractured face,
A     cacophony of constant pressure; life remains a stressful race,
N     othing to hope for, no positives like promotion in the workplace,
I      nability to love, relationships lift anchor and set sail without chase,
C     hildren crushing dreams under mortgages; age grows with disgrace
!!


Details | Italian Sonnet | |

Come and Join My Fantasy

Two Sonnets for your enjoyment, joined by the same quatrain. 

Come and join my fantasy Anyone with a mind can be a part You just have to listen to your heart Music adds such harmony All spirits have compatibility You will be happy as a lark You will feel the joy from the start One cannot describe the joy inside Join me in this peaceful place See the eagles flying with such grace This is the home of imagination Here dreams do come true In this place of our creation Interruptions are very few Love is found on every shore Ever after comes every day Happy is just another way Life in forever is never a bore Live the memories you have stored Here fairies and butterflies play Come in and with me stay You will never want to leave Come and share my fantasy On the wings of love fly free This is the home of imagination Here dreams do come true In this place of our creation Interruptions are very few


Details | I do not know? | |

The Women



The Women



(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)



Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,

they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.



They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,

and white was right in South Africa back then,

but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,

you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.



You, my mother, would not, could not break,

You stood firm, you stood tall.

You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.



You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,

the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,

my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,

by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.



You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.

You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,

you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,

you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.



Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,

all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.



I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,

the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.



I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,

you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,

of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.


I salute you!



(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)






Details | Ballad | |

My kiss from Heaven

My Kiss from Heaven

I used to have a Ouija board
I’d play with it for hours
I never really believed in it
I thought it had no power
It was just a novelty
To me, a piece of fun
Then once when I was playing it
Just before the day was done

All of the room went kind of still
And a silence touched my soul
It felt like angels were all around me
And my world felt kind of whole
My hand went whirring round that board
Like me, I could not stop it
I felt that I had no control
It disturbed me just a bit.

A message, well it seemed to come
It seemed to say to me
“Phone your father in the old country
And do it speedily”
So I did this, I phoned Mum up
She told me dad was sick
And If I wanted to see him alive
I’d have to get back quick.

Well I got back to see my dad
Then he died not too long after
I let him know how much I loved him
And we shared some tears and laughter
I ask, was this a kiss from Heaven?
It seems like this could be
All I know is I’m glad it happened
It changed my life for me.

11 September 2013 @ 1453hrs.
Peter Duggan.








Details | Free verse | |

Last Bell.....

Man, I remember the thrumming of that last bell of the school year.....
Like a prisoner being furloughed into the warm sun, buzzing of grasshoppers.
Field stickers burrowing into your ankles, joyfully, while you take the wrong way/long way 
back.
The sound of whispering gold as your armplane wings dislodge future assaulters of ankles.
I always liked sighs in the summer.....those sweet drones were the tones of freedom.
In the distance you hear Shirley scream as Brad tells EVERYBODY she likes Ralph...
You knew you should be gettin' home, but, confound it, this one brief moment was yours. 
Eternal.
There was a sound, like a shell to the ear, of all you had learned, escaping as if under 
pressure.
To thwart it was to stop a tsunami with an umbrella.....ineffectual....unnoticed.
But, also vacant, was common sense; probably why I went Jake's way that day....
Oh, he was there, lurking...lying in wait for my almost clock-work arrival.
Many a day I had screamed a million insults at him as he chased me like Satan,
Hoping "today" wasn't the day he caught up with me.
His exhalations never sounded labored, as if he was letting me get ahead.....
But not today!!!!!.....I JUMP......He LUNGES......and his teeth gain purchase on my seat!!!!
However, I escape....My bottom, that much cooler than it was before and will probably be 
later!
........................
.........
.....
...
Home.......... you see mom in the kitchen, drinking sun tea and waiting for you to arrive....
"So, How was school?"..."Uh, fine, I guess."     "What did you learn today?"......."Uh, to never 
underestimate the value of Gym Class!!"......"Well," she says, "if you took home economics, 
you'd be able to fix up your pants before Dad gets home and sees your underwear!!"......

Parents NEVER respect an Adventurer's near-fatal exploits!!!


Details | Free verse | |

The Glass Goddess

All around me
Great cities made of sand.
Green sky scrapers poke through the ground 
To thrive in life’s strict conditions
And melt away with the tide…

Great houses made of cards
Form lines, and tightrope walk existence,
Knowing that any moment, the wrong brick may fall
And buckle our world to its knees
As Mother Earth shouts Jenga! from the sidelines.

So while were here
We dance with the Glass Goddess 
Poised miles above reality,
Leaping over the heavens on our domino stilts-

We floor it in the sky
Living death in the fast lane, 
Seizing the day
Because any moment 
We could disappear 
Into



Jacob Reinhardt	
10/15/2013



Details | Rhyme | |

Instead

On television movie "Dirty Dancing" again
To tell honest truth I felt warm after glow
This looked like a fun thing to do from where I stood
I thought and on my "Bucket List" it will go

But when I moved from my sitting stance_no_no way
Even though this "Dirty Dancing" fanned my flame
At my age just don't have youthful energy left
I will just have to pen a "Bucket List" by name

A very long list of fun things before life's end
Seek map and then go down a never travelled road
Go on a surrey ride to hear the horses' hoofs
Would that my love and I for horse not be heavy

In a hot air balloon basket flow on warm air
Only so many years_go to states not been in
No longer sit at home breath very deeply sigh
I'll be able to tell generations where been

No longer sit home and watch each and every leaf
My life wil move now as if it was set on fire
Skateboarding looks like so much fun_might fall and break arm
Join circus learn to perform by walking high wire

When I look at my "Bucket List" I get so sad
Like New Year Resolutions that I never kept
Need a new list of very achievable things
When I seriously thought about this I just wept..


Details | I do not know? | |

The Nameless - for South Africans of all colours who fought for freedom


The Nameless


Slipping through the sieve of history,

the nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are roads renamed, nor monuments built.

Not for the nameless are songs sung, nor ink spilled.

The nameless rest.

Their silent sacrifice,

quiet ordeal,

muted trauma,

remain interred,

amongst their remains.

The nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are doctorates conferred, nor eulogies recited.

Not for the nameless are honours bestowed, nor homages directed.

The nameless rest.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

in every step that we tread.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

for their spirit is not dead.


“Your name is unknown, your deed is immortal”
- inscription at The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier WWII in Moscow


Special thanks to my dearest elder sister Tasneem Nobandla Moolla, whose conversations with me about life as a non-white person growing up in pre and post-Apartheid South Africa prompted me to write this dedication to the countless, nameless South Africans of every colour, whose sacrifices and dedication in the struggle against Apartheid tyranny must never be forgotten.


My sister’s middle name ‘Nobandla’ which is an isiXhosa name and means “she who is of the people” was given by her godfather, Nelson Mandela, my father’s ‘best-man who could not be, as Nelson Mandela was unable to-make it to my parent’s wedding as he was in jail at the time in the old Johannesburg Fort. This was the 31st December 1961.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Risk of Choice

It would be too easy to not believe
And not have faith in all He wants us to see.
But I don't want to risk my life being saved
Because of a choice I was refusing to make.


Details | Verse | |

Philosophical Poetry Week: Transient Tuesday

I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react

When you etch
Parallel clouds,
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
Becoming you,
This boiling crown

Chews thought
Into flagellation.
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.


Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple





My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.





Details | Limerick | |

Two-Fifty-Four

Two-Fifty-Four
©2012 C. Brent Cloyd

I bought a new scale at the Wal-Mart store.
Made it secure and level on the floor.
I took a breath, then stepped on.
The digits I saw made me moan.
Surely, I do not weigh two-fifty-four!

Let’s balance the scale, then I’ll try once more.
Adjusted proper, they’ll give the right score.
This time the scales will behave.
I stepped on, tried to be brave.
But with a grin they said “two-fifty-four”.

I would like to throw these scales out the door.
Wish they were lying, but I can’t ignore. 
I’ve gobbled many things sweet
And chewed on too much red meat.
My expanding poundage is “two-fifty-four”.

My belly is huge, my chin is galore.
Need to lose it, but process is a chore.
Need diet low in fat and starch.
So my stomach will not arch.
Hope to be smaller than “two-fifty-four”.

Would a brisk walk cause my health to restore?
Would losing blubber help me not to snore?
Let’s get started. Soon I say!
Well - after the holiday!
Cause my clothes don’t fit at “two-fifty-four”.














Details | Free verse | |

PARTED MEMORIES

It wasn't so long ago, that my new wife and I
had to find a place to live which we could call "Home".
We found an ideal place on the northwest side of our city,
easy transportation, good neighbors, and plenty of room.

When we decided to take the place, we knew it would be 
the bright, airy, comfortable, and loving home we wanted 
to make for ourselves.  Of course, there was work to be done
before we could move in.  Painting, carpets, and choice of 
furniture would occupy us for many weeks.

I don't know if every newlywed couple is as happy as we 
were.  Our love was enhanced by the work on that apartment,
turning its rooms from bare walls and floors into livable
spaces where we could be alone with each other.  We would even
have friends or relatives over - it made no difference in our
relationship...it was home.

Every relationship has its share of woes, and that apartment 
became a solitary point in our lives.  My idea of a career did not
jive with my wife's, as she so often pointed out.  I don't believe
it was the career, but the fact that I was trying to be someone I
wasn't, work with a company that I did not really know, and do 
something that was inherently destructive to our marriage.

I wanted to prove to her that she could be proud of me by providing 
for her the riches I felt she deserved.  My quest for the golden ring
only tarnished the ones we wore on our hands.  I was just too naive to
think that I was wrong.  I should have taken a step back and trusted
the partner to whom I had pledged my love.  By the time I came to my
senses, it was too late.  I had driven her away by my callousness.

Now, as I stand in this empty apartment, only the memories remain.
The laughter of that first dinner alone...her face in the candlelight, yet
I see it only in the darkened corner of the room.

There were the nights of love and affection in the bedroom...now only
shadows of the sweet passions left in the wake of her despair at
my leaving her alone to face the mornings.
  
Our living area was our pride and joy with the furniture we had so 
carefully chosen, the carpet of jade green, and the love seat where 
we watched our favorite programs...now, just a window to the soul
mate I should have been.

The apartment stands empty again, waiting for another young couple
to make it their own.  It was ours for a while, but now belongs only to
that place in my mind where I hide my personal treasures.  I loved her
then...I love her still. Home no longer, but in my memory.


Details | Pantoum | |

The Blue Knight { Pantoum }

<                                the city he calls his home the beat
                                  waiting for his next dispatched calling
                                  badge gun club cuffs and his new partner
                                  murder's rapes invasion calls to him
                                  waiting for his next dispatched calling
                                  alley's streets underground he searches
                                  murder's rapes invasion calls to him
                                  doctors lawyers fast food he's ready
                                  waiting for his next dispatched calling
                                  badge gun club cuffs and his new partner
                                  alley's streets underground he searches
                                  the city he calls his home the beat




Tribute To 
Police Officers 



Entry For
Jarred Pickett's
Pantoum Contest
G.L. All
                                  


Details | Verse | |

Le Vacance Pretentieuse: Going Home

What is it to see the soil of home again?
A welcome, snow-struck and a return
To cold; sharp white contrasts sunburn.
We converse in broken tongues to men

We know, hooked on holiday language
Comprised of wandering hand signs.
Collect the car and pay parking fines,
Drive through towns and over a bridge

Until we reach the Western gateway.
Oh when will we arrive at our house?
No camels there, only field mouse
Which are eaten by our cat anyway.

The plane flies for an age, slyly yawning
Through the stretching, pealing sky,
A knife through air; what it is to fly.
Our travels over; a new day is dawning.


Details | Haiku | |

MUSIC - HAIKU

Play The Radio Get Up And Dance All Night Long Music Heals The Soul


Details | Couplet | |

My Quiet Place

My quiet place is when my son is at school and my husband is at work the house is so quiet at times I can't remember the joy and fun. I get mighty lonesome at times but I know that I will have Caleb home soon and Wayne sometimes gets to drop by and say hello. He comes and goes so fast I get to feeling like we don't connect with eachother very much. 
I get in my comfy chair and open the door and blinds to see the nature outside. Nature is my most written about subject especially the birds and flowers. 
The different colors in the sky and flowers are a great inspiration to me. I know others who can be in a room full of people and tune out life and keep on writing. That is not me.
I need to be in a comfy envrionment.

My home is a quiet lonesome
Other dwellers roam free
My home is lonely with just me
Others don't care to be

Informed of my heart and souls depth
My home calls me to go
Where One knows and is known truly
Beyond the sky's rainbow

For Sara Kendrick's contest My Quiet Place


Details | Narrative | |

Before The Light

There are too many times when my eyes open and it’s still dark.

It’s useless to think that I’ll go back to sleep, and it’s no good at all to lay in bed and watch the passing parade of worries that comes marching down the Main Street of my mind. When I do that, the entertainment seems to take on its own life. The parade grows longer, more spectacular, with the noise of marching bands, my thoughts, growing louder. Clowns scurry ahead of the band leader, throwing red balls in the air. There are too many balls to count.

The best thing I can do for myself is to rise from my bed. But there are days when it seems too much to bear being home before the rest of the world rises. There’s just too much emptiness in my small house. 

I leave, escaping to DD's, where I sit and sip my coffee over a newspaper. Sometimes there are others sitting waiting for the light to come, too–like the woman who gives an animated “Hello” to everyone she meets, staring too long into our eyes. She takes out her cell phone to call a friend about the rashes on her legs. Something is biting her during the night. Raj and the other DD workers snicker, and I am drawn to–but at the same time repelled by–her morbid troubles.

Sometimes, in the winter, it seems as if the time I spend in the dark before the light comes is endless. I don’t think it’s normal for darkness to last so long; it’s probably one of the punishments for eating the apple in Eden.

I much prefer the early light of June and July, when the morning allows the gentle unfolding of life around me. Somehow, when the sun is in the sky at 6:30 a.m., a passing gasoline truck rattling my windows does not sound so lonely. Nor do I mind the sun revealing the stains from spring rains on my windows … or the birds loudly announcing their presence in the trees. Their manic chirping awakens schoolchildren eagerly counting down the days til summer.

When the darkness is especially long, and I have already sought out the comfort of others who cannot sleep, I will sometimes return home and do what I am so reluctant to do — sit still. I take up my position in a special chair near a window that looks out onto the street. I close my eyes and listen to the heated rhythms that only my body can make. My breath … my ins and outs.

But I wonder; why is it so hard to be still? Especially in the dark before the light.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Petty Posh-WahZee - Liberation and Ostentation



The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation


The Not-So Distant Past:

The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves,
their battered, fragmented bones, mixed with a handful of torn rags,
are all that remain, a mute reminder of their selfless valiant sacrifice.

They endured brutal Apartheid harassment, detentions without trial,
torture in the cells, and mental anguish when loved ones disappeared,
they left their homeland, to continue the struggle against racial bigotry,
while countless others fought the scourge of white-minority rule at home.

Nelson Mandela and many, many others, spent their lives imprisoned,
on islands of stone, and on islands of the cruellest torture, yet they stood,
never bowing, never scraping, they stood, firm for ideals for which they were prepared to die,

and many, many comrades did die, at the hands of the callous oppressor,
and many, many comrades perished in distant lands, torn from their homes,
while the struggle continued, for decades, soaked in blood, in tears, in pain.


The Present:

19 years have passed, since freedom was secured at the highest of prices,
delivering unto us, this present, a gift of emancipation from servitude,

a freedom to walk this land, head held high, no longer second-class citizens,
in the land of our ancestors, whose voices we hear and need to heed today.

I do not care much for fashion, Lewis-Fit-On and Sleeves unSt.-Moron,
yet the ostentation that I witness baffles even my unsophisticated palate,

our ancestors' plaintive whispers are being dismissed, left unheeded, as
we browse the aisles for more and more, always for more and yet more.

Asphyxiated by the excess of the Petty Posh-Wahzee, we find ourselves,
perched precariously on the edge, of a dissolution of all that is humane,

babies go hungry, wives are battered, our elders left in hospitals for hours,
I cringe as I scribble these words, perhaps too sanctimonious and preachy,

yet I know, deep in the marrow of my brittle bones, I know, I know, I know,
this tree of freedom planted by the nameless daughters and sons of Africa,

needs to be shielded, nurtured, protected from our very own baser impulses,
so that the precious tree of freedom, may bear the fruit that may feed us all,

for if not, then we are doomed, to tip over, and into the yawning abyss, we shall fall.








Details | Rhyme | |

I'm Not the Kind of Dad That I Need to Be


I’m Not the Kind of Dad That I Need to Be! I remember reading the Bible to my son. But what a mess, my life has become! My children told me, they were proud of their dad! Now they say they’re embarrassed and sad. I once lived a Godly life! I really did! Just look at me now! And how I live! Things in life I once called wrong and sin. Are now causing me to stumble again. God's word I had loved! Jesus was my treasure! I "traded my soul" for what gives me "pleasure." I’m not the kind of father that I need to be! What kind of example will my family find in me? Will I grow stubborn to God as I age? Replacing his peace, for anger and rage? I need Jesus to bring peace to my troubled soul! I ask YOU Lord to make me clean and whole. Restore unto me the joy of my salvation. By your blood, make me a new creation. Words alone cannot truly express… This family God's given to me. I am so blessed! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Free verse | |

marking time....to my friends on poetry soup.- the Lord helped me fight death and won.

i don't want to be just marking

time.  i died on november 20,

2008, during surgery.  i was

on a vent when i awakened 

december 2, 2008....my sisters'

birthday. what made me llive

i'll never know.  i know there

are things to do on this side

of death.



i have no time for marking time.

i have a stupid bag hanging from

my side now.  i am supposed to

"get comfortable with it".  well

that was a laugh.

that was a laugh until i thought

of the people that had these

things with no hope of ever

getting away from them.



i am so lucky.  14 days i laid

on a vent, then 22 more.

i came home 3 days, 



then 


i had
great pain in my chest...
.
well this is great i said,

a pulmonary emboli, 15 more

days, three days home.



then back to e.r. blood pressure

too high.  this bought me 

4 more days in e.r.



i am home now and finally 

have spent 19 days home.

i feel every pain and i feel

every time that i feel good



yes, i am never marking

time again.....there is

something about fighting

for your life and your sanity

that straightens things out.



i don't recommend it but

i wish i could let your hearts

know what i know.

janetta


Details | Ballade | |

Creating words in the garden

Creating words in the garden

I’ve been sitting in the garden
It’s a lovely Sunny day
It’s supposed to be our winter
But I know she’s on her way
That spring season I love so well
I can feel it everywhere
So I’ve been sitting in the garden
Without one single care.

I took me notebook out with me
To try to write some stuff
Too soon I’d wrote four little poems
And then, I’d had enough
And so I went and made them safe
On my trusty word machine
Having been there in that garden
My world felt so serene.

In the presence of serenity
The words just flow on out
I don’t know where they come from
Somehow they come about
When I’m sitting in the garden
And beauty beckons me
It seems to be my inspiration
For creativity.

9 August 2013 @ 1624hrs.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Canvas of Night


The Canvas of Night


Stars like sprinkled sugar,
lay strewn across the canvas of night,


enthralled by the wonder of the cosmos,
my dreams take to the heavens in effervescent flight,


I bathe in the beauty, soaked in sublime delight,
absorbed in moments of bliss, transfixed by the serene sight.




Stars like sprinkled sugar,
lay strewn across the canvas of night,


and my being is infused with feelings of hope,


for even in darkness  I find the sprinkled sugar of hope's light.




note: special thanks to one of my heroes, the late Dr. Carl Sagan, for making science accessible to younger me, many, many moons ago.





Details | I do not know? | |

Where Wild Violets Grow

Where Wild Violets Grow

Scribbling these verses,
caressing your bare back,
simple rhymes,
flowing from my fingertips.


Scribbling verses,
sprinkling odes to fragrant promises,
your smile lightens the burdens,
off my heavy heart.


Scribbling verses,
soaked in countless kisses,
the moonlight waltzing on your skin.


Scribbling verses,
feeling you,
your love never ceases to flow,


through the streams of my mind,
to a place of our own,
where wild violets grow



Details | Rhyme | |

I Noticed the Words Jesus Loves You above Your Door

I Noticed; “Jesus Loves You,” Above Your Door!

I noticed a sign, “Jesus Loves You,”
 above your front door.
I want to know about him!
I want to know more!

Could you tell me without 
any hesitation...
About Jesus and his plan 
of salvation?

Could you tell me about
 being born again?
And share with me how
 much you love him?

What is it like to become
a Christian?
And to serve Christ,
 As a daily mission?

I want to know how God 
has changed you!
I don't really know whom else to turn to.

Are you one that I can
 really depend?
I assume that Jesus is 
your best friend?

Please listen to what 
I have to say...
And spend some of your time
 with me today!.

By Jim Pemberton    


Details | Quatrain | |

Decisions

Lord, I do not know what to do;
Please, lead me by Your side.
Decisions I'm facing are lost and through;
Please, lead me to do what's right.


Details | I do not know? | |

Unashamed Self-Promotion

:-)


Greetings, good and kind fellow Soup-ers!

'Tis wonderful, I say,
to be a Soup-er, so if I may,

I humbly request you to lay down your pen dipped in fine ink,
and visit my blog which can be found at the following link:

http://afzalmoolla.wordpress.com/ 

Now if this blatant self-promoting of mine seems rude,
I ask for your generous forgiveness, dear fellow Soup-er,

And wish you a day, that is peaceful, kind, and just plain super!

So cheers from the scribbler for now,
and as I take leave, my fellow Soup-ers,
I, in courtesy, to you all, do bow!


:-)





Details | Rhyme | |

heart, mind, and soul

father time in my chest
keeper of its own pace
just skin and bone depth
influences time and space
what are we but drifters
 in an unknown

see truth in a literal
belief before my face
stars with no funeral
light will win the race
here i am, not for long
death starts at home

where is this leading?
which story could it be?
despite all my reading
writings the cup of tea
i dont need to know it all
as long as im not alone



Details | Light Poetry | |

face book

Face book


Come home from work 
See my girlfriend crying
 She can’t get on face book
And whole day she trying

Well I try to fix the computer
To get she on the internet
The girl cries so much
Two handkerchiefs soaking wet

What’s up with face book?
Sending this girl crazy
 Chatting with Amanda whole day
And now she gets so lazy

So I call her mother
To complain bout she daughter
She said she call back later
Julie on the computer

So went to her father
And said she don’t cook no more
She on face book since morning
Till I come home at four

He call me out side
He hiding from his wife
He said leave face book alone
That is part of them women’s life

The stove not light for the day
All it has is bread and cheese
She says darling I’m hungry
Go order some Chinese

This face book and women
Is a bad combination
It causing problems in homes
All across the nation

A woman updating she profile
From almost all about
When she quarrel with her husband
She leaving that part out

hannah taking out pix for face book
She runs out of lipstick
She takes two buses and a taxi
Telling the driver to do quick

So I call president Obama
Tell him face book causing hell
He said boy shut your mouth
He wants no problem from Michelle

Now face book is ok
To meet family old and new
But do they have to post
Every little thing they do

A man post he on vacation
On the beach in Tobago
While he home in couva
But nobody don’t know

I try to organize some friends
To protest against face book
When I gone them on the computer
These men already hook

So I have to stay quiet
Because my girlfriend very sweet
I pick up the phone and said
Darling what you want to eat


Details | I do not know? | |

Love Endures

Love floats by,


reaching,
tantalising,
meandering,


tip-toeing past pain,


leaping through walls,
weakening the barricades,


of the most private heart.



Love settles in,


trusting,
searching,
dissolving,


quietly beyond anguish,


erasing the desolation,
soothing a battered spirit,
enveloping the shivering soul.



Love stays, it is true,


love endures, as do you






Details | I do not know? | |

Lessons

     I tried to drown my sorrows, but they learned to swim.  Which taught me you can't run, you can't hide from our less than perfect side.  Even though the dog paddle is all you know.  Try hard to swallow your pride.  Because sorrow is along for the ride.  Sorrow teaches us to realize and appreciate the times that don't bring tears to our eyes~~Blessings  Catfish      3/17/2014


Details | Free verse | |

The Bird that is Loved and Loathed

It burns and it stings.
It hurts.
More than drowning beneath 
the ice.
More than remaining in a 
kindled flame
She hits and I no longer cry.
Why mother, why? 

It burned and it stung.
The markings remained, 
returned, and were relived
Looking, loving, and little 
known loathing were the known 
ways of living.
Never was their pity for the 
child that cried
Never was their relief for the 
child that tried

You were that lovely bird that 
understood the complications of 
felicity 
Nothing looked the same in 
those dewy browns of yours.
My everbeating would cry tears 
of joy.
The others-they were yet to 
appear.
Caring Mother, o' so fair
 You were that beautiful bird 
filled with care.

The others came and were not 
alone. Their two suitors sat on 
the throne.
Rampage and rage why did you 
come?
I began to wither and wither 
slumping along. So very soon I-
the child of fines- became a 
human raceme. 
The droops of the Lily of the 
Valley became the slumping of 
my heart.
My lovely bird the enemy had 
taken you and the person you 
were is far from near.
For that divine nature left its 
intricate self and you became 
irretrievable my big bird.
All of your fairness died.
With that went my pride.
 
Mother, Mother what moved 
you so? 
Your intense spirt vanished only 
to supplement a monster. 
Mother, Monster and your tar 
filled lungs. 
How did I kill that liver that was 
so, so strong?
The lesson of pain was one you 
came to learn.
My darling bird why did you 
turn?
 
My lovely bird and your big 
brown eyes
I'll tell you once, but never 
twice.
Pain is only a flower for it 
blooms and dies
And a mistake can be killed as 
quickly as lice.
 You dear bird hurt me well. 
Though, haven't you heard?
Weakness is a souls greatest 
strength.
You brought me up, then you 
brought me down.
You haved helped, hurt, and 
hindered my blazing spirit.
A hero in my heart-I left you 
down in your deep black 
slumber. 
Escaping those terrible nights
To go for the town of delights. 


Details | I do not know? | |

You and I



You and I.


You.

Your heart blazed,
with a warmth of spirit,

soothing,

alluring,

soaked in truth.



Your smile burned,
branding me permanently,

gentle,

tender,

enveloping my being.



Your love was complete,
from the depths of your soul,

unsaid,

yet fierce,

bathed in silent knowing.



Your dreams were poetic,
fluttering in the afternoon breeze,
infused with the distilled essence of rhyme.


I.

I squandered your generosity of spirit.

I vainly discarded your priceless poems.


Now I stand,

alone,

empty,

desolate,

wasting away,

rotting inside, day by day.




Details | Rhyme | |

LIFE

Two hearts beat, now beating faster; beating until they're one 
Two souls breathe, now breathing deeper; breathing until they're done 
Two lovers see forever, and forever is where they run 
One child comes home tomorrow for life has just begun 

Even when the rainbow's glowing, the skies can seem so gray 
Even when the wind's not blowing, the tides can turn your way 
And when the water's raging, beneath skies that seem so blue 
It's just your body aging, and it has nothing to do with you 

So now when our God comes calling, I'll hold your hand and stroke your hair 
Yes, as snowflakes start falling, I will look for you everywhere 
And Mother, as you start flying, remember as you rise above 
Marlene, you are not dying, but finding everlasting love 

One child goes home tomorrow to embrace the Father and the Son 
One child who knows no sorrow, for life has just begun


Details | I do not know? | |

A Simple Wish

a simple wish...

no fancy words
no more clever rhymes
no more slickly crafted verse

just a simple wish
to cherish the moments
in-between the hue and cry of this life

no more the dull-edged jab
no more the anger and the strife

a simple wish
beyond the wasted hours and the days and the blurry fears

a simple wish
of a simpler life

after all the bitterness of the passing years

and so

to retire from the hustle
to flee from the hollow wasted breaths that have been breathed

to bid the emptiness farewell

while

ushering in the new tomorrow

bathed in the soft glow of hope

and kissing adieu to all the hurt and all the doleful sorrow...


Details | I do not know? | |

I Stand, Alone



I stand, alone.

Scratching for my truths,
peeling away the veneer,

I stand, alone, before this
impregnable cliff so sheer.

Cocooned in my solitary shell,
wrenching a smile from a tear,

I stand, alone, a little odd,
and definitely quite queer.

I stand, alone.


Details | Imagism | |

Why oh why the leaves do fall

 
I watch the trees daily change their clothes
the leaves all different colors by natures design
they hang around for days on end
then suddenly begin their final journey
falling ever so gently to the ground
a dance they perform with yearly splendor
for all to enjoy in wounderous glory.
We pile the leaves in ever higher piles
ande take great delight in jumpin among them
to feel the cool fall dampness they excrete
and also, to delight in the crunchy sound they make
wondering how long we shall be able to continue
in this most joyous of falls experiences.
When fall passes into wintery white
some leaves most brave and strong
continue to cling seemingly forever
to what has been home since their beginning
a home they seem not to want to give up
for a fate they know all to well is inevitable
the end of yet another beginning
for many more of their kind.


Details | Cowboy | |

Things Change

Now, I find it kind of funny how quickly things change
Once was a time when everyone wanted a home on the range
A place where they had room to stretch & grow
Out where the cattle bawl & the west winds  blow

The city folk have all gone country or so they’d like to think
Why, there are new houses going up faster than you can blink
You remember that prime grazing lease? Take another look
Its looking more & more like an architect’s pop-up book

They come out here to escape all the big city worries & trouble
They said they weren’t concerned if their commute doubled
Now they are talking of bringing a super market in
And an increase in crime spreads our deputies thin

They thought that grazing cattle made a picture quite quaint
Now those same cows holding up traffic is an oft heard complaint
They throw out words like eco-friendly & enviromental plan
then scrape the land as clean as momma’s griddle pan

Yes, everybody wants a home out on the range
And I am just a cowboy trying to reconcile the change
I watch the valley whittled down into an urban scene
 and wish that I was back again in childhood fields of green

(c) Februaury 2004


Details | Lyric | |

THE BOW LEGGED GIRL

      THE BOW LEGGED GIRL
I took all of your tank tops and your hose and your sox,
and I put them all together in a little brown box.
I put all of your dresses and your shoes in a sack,
and I wrapped it up because I knew you're never coming back.

I took your funky records and your Playgirl magazines
and dropped them in the trash with all your green and purple jeans.
I took the clothes I bundled up and gave them away,
to the Salvation Army, it seems like yesterday.

You never told me you were leaving town,
you never told me you were leaving.
You never told me you were leaving town,
you never told me you were leaving.

I met a wino on the street, she looks just like you,
she wears a see through blouse and she walks bow legged, too.
She sings those funky songs and plays the guitar outa sight,
and she takes a bath in cheap perfume like you did every night.

She still sings about Viet Nam and love we don't show,
guess she doesn't know that Viet Nam was 40 years ago.
She's out protesting every day and carries a sign,
 and bites her toenails ev'ry night just like you chewed on mine.

You never told me you were leaving town,
you never told me you were leaving.
You never told me you were leaving town,
you never told me you were leaving.

She has a job but all she'll say, it ain't chopping wood.
And it's funny how her money lasts, and she lives so good.
She bought a brand new car one day, a green Cadillac,
and it's got a bar up in the front and mattress in the back.

I don't know why she thinks she has to work every day,
cause I never had a job I just live on my welfare pay.
She picks her nose and rolls each bugger in a sugar ball,
and just like you used to do, then she eats them all.

You never told me you were leaving town,
you never told me you were leaving.
You never told me you were leaving town,
you never told me you were leaving.

I married her in the park, it seems like yesterday,
and I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't run away.

She brought her uncle home with her from work the other night,
and her uncle and my cousin all got drunk and had a fight.

She got locked in the bedroom with the meter readers dad,
and they had a lot of fun all night, but I felt awful bad.
He took her home with him a while, but she wouldn't stay,
I wish you'd come back home to me, and run her away.

You never told me you were leaving town,
you never told me you were leaving.
You never told me you were leaving town,
you never told me you were leaving.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Billy

On a street long ago 
with a sidewalk and curb, 
Back when houses seemed huge, 
In a child's wide-eyed way.
 
On a screen porch, played quietly, 
As not to disturb. 
For my mother was having 
A headache that day.

All the front yards were deep, 
Nestled back from the street. 
With a walkway of concrete 
And large, shady trees. 

Every morning, I waited 
to yell, then retreat, 
When the giant man walked by, 
never noticing me. 

All I knew was the little 
They let children know, 
That he lived with his mother, 
On the far side of town.
 
He was big and slumped over 
And walked very slow. 
Not a person remembered 
Him utter a word. 

As he passed by our walkway, 
I readied my shout, 
Then remembered, "Play quietly", 
Mom's head hurt today.
 
I recall as he stopped, 
Slowly turning about, 
Then he started his blunderous
Footsteps my way. 

I was puzzled and frozen,  
A chill up my spine. 
When he reached our front steps, 
I could hear mother say,
 
"Hello Billy", then ask 
if his mom was okay,
As she latched the screen door,
Nudging me back away. 

Mother always recounted 
What happened that day. 
And she spoke of the good heart 
That lay deep within.
 
It was only that once 
I missed shouting his way.
Billy worried, not hearing 
His four year old friend. 


Gene Bourne
08-17-14


 


Details | I do not know? | |

A Happy Place

I.	Creation

Before the troubles of the world infect the soul
The magic of imagination creates a womb
Devoid of torment, pain, and stress. Rainforests, 
Jungles, beaches, other worlds of elation where 
You are always the victor in battle, the one
Who finds true love, alpha and omega. Never 
Landing in withered trees or dead grass, only
Strong trunks and rolling plains, an ocean 
Of stars, a blanket while lying comfy on
Palm fronds floating down calm dreamy 
Rivulets of turquoise streams. Locomotives 
Wind down vast forest covered country sides
Their tracks gliding to the warm earthy
Humming sound only they can make.

Only now with danger, inherent only to your peaceful fire
Bring you to this happy place, a place desired.

II.	A Home all Your Own

In the world of yesterdays and tomorrows
And days lost in the gyre of solstices we
Create a world unto ourselves. Paradises 
Lost to the antiquity of children trapped
Inside their adult armor. Lies tipped with 
Poison seep into the wells of being, melting 
The oil from the canvas’ that dreams are painted on.
Cheap reminiscences flash through tattered wafting
Curtains. Nightmare doppelgangers wait in quarries 
of fire breathing mountain giants laying siege to 
Rapture found in a good escape. Chemical 
Demons like iron maidens brandishing your
Favorite drugs, syringes close in creating 
An eerie starry night

To you alone
In a home all your own.

III.	Repent to your inner child 

To regain a solid footing on the gun deck 
Of the warship you’re riding in the flotsam, 
Hearken lessons from the playground, 
The bruises, nicks, and cuts proudly earned
Ensure the necessary skills are acquired
To embark on adventures of the body. 
Hiding in shrouds like an angel
White egret with horsehair-like crests and
Misty wings is the caged fury of joy, her
Wings mightier, beak stronger, eyes sharper
And love unabated from years unvisited. 
Swelling seas are sailed, reefs can’t breach
A flying draft when joy carries her burden
Aloft. Hair amber and aflame in the setting sun
Amidst a new sea of clouds, only anchor

In a child’s heart when the dream fades
And the soul returns among the shades.


Details | Quatrain | |

The Quest

The Quest

I've come back home a different man
so many years have past
Ambition lured me far from home
and dreams they didn’t last

When I left home I never knew
what life was all about
The quest to find my niche in life…
assumed it’d all work out 

My path to glory found dead ends
I struggled for so long
Another face inside the crowd
How did it all go wrong?

In time old memories spoke to me
when I was all alone
And in the end a still small voice
said Son, you should go home


Details | I do not know? | |

My Madness, Me

My Madness, Me...


Confined by this straight-jacket,
strapped in, numb and dumbed,
a washed-out, has-been, also-ran,

body, eyes, the equilibrium of mind,
rattling like stones in an old tin-can.


Still, I am, 

I am,

and I am unchained,

my dreams taking flight, soaring,
above these claustrophobic walls,
of synapses, and dungeons of stone,

swooping through green valleys,
taking a detour to savour the joys,

soaked in torrential, evergreen memories,
of a younger man, with passion in his bone.

I am.

My wings unclipped, unshackled, free,

I am, and though I am unable to see,

I am.

At long last,

me...



Details | Lyric | |

Home is on the Inside

They say home is where the heart is
And I have to say it’s true
But if there is any who are confused
Here’s how I can spell it out for you

Home is where your first steps are taken
A home is where you say your first word
Where your momma and daddy hold you tight
And just wait for that moment to be seen and heard

A home is not some distant faraway land
A home is what is inside of you
Where you feel like a free woman or man
Where you can be who you want to be

That is how I can explain it all
And if you do not understand I’ve at least tried
To explain to everyone of you
That a home is what is on the inside


Details | Free verse | |

The World Needs You, Lord

The world needs You, Lord;
We all need You too.
Alone, we battle and fall apart,
But we live joyful freedom with You:
Created anew in Your perfect image;
Saved,
Loved,
Changed,
In Your Holy Name!
We pray,
Amen!


Details | Free verse | |

Only Seven Years Old

Only seven years old living in a new place
No one at home just have to come in all alone
Eat all alone no one here
Only seven years old but have to get homework
Because the teacher willl be angry 
Punishment is to stay in at recess
Only seven years old home so cold
Can't build a fire because no one there
Sad but don't know how to express the pain
Only seven years old worried will anyone come home
Pain of loneliness penetrates the walls and the heart..
Only seven years old too much for a child so young
Only seven years old
Empty, lonely, desolate at only seven years old


Details | I do not know? | |

Distant African Nights

Those Distant African Nights...


1.


The shadows swayed in your candlelit room,

a cool breeze teasing your bare back,


streaks of lightning forked in the Johannesburg night,

as my hands stroked your hair,

kissing your soft mouth,

holding you,

ever so tight.



2.


You whispered that you loved me,

and I kept silent,


the rain fell, 
shadows danced,
thunder rolled,

the breeze teased your naked back,

you whispered that you loved me,
as my lips found yours,

the rain washed over our tender nights,


lightning and candlelight,

etching poems on your burnished skin,


yet,

a fear gnawed at me,

deep within.



3.


We parted ways,
and you could never forgive me, you said,


now, after numberless thunderstorms,

the rain that falls,


echo the countless tears that I have shed.



4.


You are long gone,

far away,

happy, I pray,


yet the memories persist,

those precious moments shall never, 
ever,

like the Jo'burg rains,
trickle away,

and I wish you well,
for loving me as you did,

for it was I who was not worthy,


then,


and it is I who is not worthy,


now...



5.


You were always true,


it was I who always,

always,

refused to,


to give myself,


completely to you.






Details | I do not know? | |

Without You



Without you,

worn down, weary,
staggering into tomorrow,
dissolving my todays, grim, dreary,

I crawl, slipping out of my skin,
flinging laughter, joy, contentment,
into the gaping abyss of life's dustbin.

Without you


Details | I do not know? | |

The Sieve of Time



The Sieve of Time



Cast ashore,
along the banks of time,

whirling through the passing years,
clinging to my futile scribbles set in rhyme,


Cast ashore,
thrust into an unrehearsed pantomime,

clenching slivers of joy as weariness descends,
lulled into a peaceful slumber exhilaratingly sublime.


Cast ashore,
hazily adrift, a dandelion seed on the wings of time,

trapped in the sieve of spiralling memories,
caught between pristine bliss, and reeking slime.


Cast ashore,
flung aside for no discernible crime,

my human heart thuds with elusive hope,
though battered, bruised, and covered in grime,

I stagger ashore, 

alone,

embracing each moment of detached, oblivious time.



Details | Quatrain | |

I Don't Know What To Do With My Life

When that feeling rushes in-
I don't know what to do with my life-
I need to search from within
And look up toward the light.


Details | Free verse | |

My Cocoon

Crystal clear, You are the place that cradles butterflies As they transform into beautiful, Personified But more often than not, you stab my wings Prematurely Forbidding the growth that would Lead to my escape Inevitably, you knew how much I'd love To go-- But no. You like me best when I can see the world Without being its inhabitant, When you can shield me from my hopes of Reaching healthy, touching happy You were never meant to hold anything forever But just when fingertips feel the T h r e a d s O f F r e e d o m You snap, Claw... me.... back Back into your grasp Quite like fish tank glass What their eyes can always see of me, hands Will never hold Tragic, I know What's a girl to do, stuck in a wonderland She can't push through, find Her way back to...wait, Which way home again? I don't think I've ever truly known And the worst Is all the torture inflicted by myself, at Your hearty request, wicked jest You punish me in earnest for trying to Live Stuff me back down in my bubble My hideout, my shelter You have been my home and grave for all These years What I wouldn't give now to strike the Walls, scream- GET ME OUT NOW Yet this is hopeless; I know well My captor never lets me cry At least, not out loud So I whimper and I beg Please, for the love of god, don't let me die Not here, already buried underground If I fall, No one will ever know If words could trickle to the surface, well, Would they even be received, Or thud forever silent? Help Save Fix (me)


Details | Free verse | |

Hypocrite

I am a hypocrite and look what I just did:
I fell into my darkest pit; now, again, and again.
I thought that I was strong enough to live the truths I said;
Now I realized I'm much too weak; a fool too ashamed to raise his head.
God, please save me, please forgive me, and please give me strength. 
I love You.
I thank You.
I am forever changed.


Details | I do not know? | |

A Chipped Heart

A Chipped Heart...


Dreaming, my heart brittle as glass,
my solitary facade a pitiful farce,

shards tearing out of my skin,
seeking release, from cages within,

I am lost, in the dream,
bellowing out a silent scream,

torn from reality, drowning in the now,
yet I refuse,
I refuse to succumb,

I refuse to bow.



My chipped heart, may be wounded,
wreathed in pain,

still,

I believe, love, truth, belonging,

will take my hand,

again...


Details | Free verse | |

A Prayer For Healing

Father,
Do not let me be the demon I have created me to be.
I am the product of myself and my negativity.
I trust You.
I love You.
I thank You.
In Your name,
We pray,
Amen.


Details | Rhyme | |

My Life Began in Six Weeks

My life began at six weeks
Why indeed should that be?
Because up till that point
My parents I did not see
 
An adopted child I was
As my new parents did say
Who were my real mum and dad?
I never knew to this day
 
I lived among the flowers and the grass
As the countryside was my home
Where I enjoyed the fresh air
With space to wander and roam
 
But many challenges lay ahead
School, job and all of life
Many changes come my way
Survived it all even the strife
 
Now looking back on my life
I see the divine hand
Looking after me all the time
Holding me up so to stand
 
poetgord@2013


Details | I do not know? | |

She

She

She smiled, gently,
her warmth infusing me,
with a serene stillness of time.

She settled, slowly,
in my waking thoughts,
a soothing balm of simple joy.

She remains, scribbled,
on the walls of my fractured heart,
memories of happiness that once breathed...



Details | I do not know? | |

The Sound of Distant Ankle Bells


The Sound of Distant Ankle Bells


Memories of those delicate tinkling bells,
casually fastened around calloused feet,

take hold of my waking moments,

and fling my thoughts back to a distant time,
where folk-songs were heartily sung,
joyful, yet hopelessly out of rhyme.


I barely saw her, a construction labourer perhaps,
hauling bricks, cement, anything, on a scorching Delhi day,
while in the semi-shade of a Gulmohar tree, her infant silently lay.


A cacophony of thoughts such as these swirl around,
yanking me away from the now, to my cow-dung littered childhood playground.


Now, a lifetime of displacement has hushed the jangling chorus of the past,
to a faint trickle of sounds, as distant as an ocean heard inside tiny sea-shells,

and,

I know, that the orchestral nostalgic crescendo, rises, dips, and swells,
as tantalisingly near, yet a world of time away, as were the tinkling of her ankle-bells.







Details | Free verse | |

So Close, Yet So Far

It's like I'm there,
Standing behind a glass wall.
I've had a taste,
Just not the full platter.
I'm ready for the cake,
But all I have is batter.


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Advice

You told me you had high hopes for me
But I'm just a regular guy
You act as if it's entirely my fault
That I like to cheat, steal, and lie
 
I told you, I was simply drinking the alcohol
To drown away my pain
You told me I should try new things
So I tried heroine and cocaine
 
You told me to try and get a fresh new start
So I took the initiative and moved
It wasn't my fault my roommate was mean to me
If you met him, you'd have shot him too
 
You told me that everything would be ok
And then I was sent to jail
I had one phone call to try and get out
But you told me you wouldn't pay my bail
 
You went off to have a family
And told me never to talk to you again
I lost my mind, body, and soul
But never stopped calling you friend
 
I finally got out and looked for you
And found you much farther away than you said
You told me never to call and to never come near
So I used my binoculars instead
 
You seemed very distant from me
So I came to your home address
I came to your home and rang the bell
All of a sudden I was under arrest
 
Back to jail I went yet again
And dialed your number with my one call
You told me you were no longer my friend
And I deserved to suffer the pain of my fall
 
You told me that I'd be better off dead
So I took your word, fair and square
Now that the noose is tied around my neck
Would you mind kicking away the chair?


Details | I do not know? | |

WHAT IS HOME?

WHAT IS HOME?

ROLLING HILLS ARE HOME TO ME,
PLAYING CHESS WITH FRIENDS,
DANCING ON THE WEEKEND,
WALKING IN THE WIND,
BLOWING BUBBLES.

(Reflect)

BUBBLES BLOWING WIND,
THE “IN” WALKING WEEKEND,
THE “ON” DANCING FRIENDS
WITH CHESS PLAYING ME. 
TO HOME ARE HILLS ROLLING?


Details | Rhyme | |

God's Plan for Marriage


There’s a truth that remains since 
the beginning of time.
God created man and woman, 
 with marriage in mind.

From the dust of the ground,
Adam was formed.
From his side came Eve.  A new life was “born!”

God’s design for marriage became 
very evident and clear…
If not for Adam and Eve,
 none of us would be here!

Marriage is a blessing from God.  
A gift from God above.
A man and a woman come together
 as an expression of their love.

Anything different than one man 
and woman is perverted.
This is a lie from our culture that
 is trying to be “inserted.”

God gave us all a natural love 
with a strong ambition.
To come as a husband and wife 
is a God given intention!

Read from the books of Genesis
 thru Revelation…
God’s idea of marriage is
 for any person or nation.

Many can try to change what God
 has already designed.
It’s no wonder why so many have 
“confused” minds.

Let’s come back to God and
 trust him with our life!
The one who set up marriage as; 
“one husband and one wife!”

By Jim Pemberton


Details | I do not know? | |

She



A sweetly-scented, earthy rain-storm,
she came to me,

thunderously raging with raw emotion,
she came to me,

drenched in the essence of truth,
she came to me,

she touched a chord deep inside,
she strummed away all emptiness,

she came to me,

once...

she comes to me,

still...


a gentle presence filling my life,


she comes to me,


still,

a healing spirit soothing all inner strife.





Details | I do not know? | |

Saturday Rain in Johannesburg

Saturday Rain in Johannesburg…


…With sighs of torrential passion,
the heavens shower teardrops,

weeping with me,
as memories of you come cascading back,

skin on skin, ablaze,
moist kisses, fiery,
gentle whispers of undying love, murmured,

in another life, another time,

far removed from my present, a desolate state of despair,
wallowing in the grime.

…

The rain keeps falling,
each teardrop stinging my face,

tasting the salt on my lips,

I wonder, do you still remember the caresses of my fingertips,

between breathy confessions, and vows of eternal love,

before you left me, stranded on an island of solitude,

wounded as a wingless dove,

bereft of life,
stripped of all traces of fortitude


Details | Free verse | |

Holiday Gift

The greatest gift I ever got, came with a year that definitely was not.
Health costs and a scam had emptied everyone’s pot.
The tree was bare with nothing to hand out…
And my son had to work thru the Christmas Holliday, we all sought.

We wished him home but he had to work if he was to eat.
And for several years he had not wanted, with us to be.
But this year had taught him we were better than he had perceived.
And he wanted to come home to hold and be hugged, you see.

At the last moment he got the Christmas Day off.
Our gift to him was the price of gas and food on the four-hour trip back.
But his gift to us… you see was the greatest of all…
For he wanted to come home and simply be with us all.

Twenty-four hours minus 8 hours on the trip.
Dinner wasn’t much but it was all we could give.
But no one noticed as everyone talked…
It truly was the greatest holiday present of them all… that we ever got.

Thank you God... your gift to us wasn't lost.


Details | I do not know? | |

for Gary Moore

for gary moore...

...ain't nothing but the blues

talkin' sweltering licks

screaming through flaming hues

reaching deep, deep into that wandering soul

of devilish chords on those walkways of paris

strutting and strumming, never taking a mere stroll

so though your time here and now may be up 

and though your moments here and now may be through

forgive me for borrowing your words again

cos' we still got the blues for you...


Details | Blank verse | |

The Smell of Exile

we grew up at Home
with a warrior thrust tuning 
our souls to sounds of crickets
to rhythms of the soil
to smells of the rivers
knowing large dreams of moonlight joy
 
we grew up there in an ever rebounding 
spirit learning songs of seasons
that dressed our umbilical cords
for the harvest of our dreams—
they were songs fathers sang in the cycle
many rainless seasons ago
 
many harvest seasons ago we danced away
from loving arms of Home onto the snow sea
opening widely our limbs to invisible lines
that etched new profiteering truths 
into our being into our minds into our hearts
 
when we heard father died this morning
away from Home we were featherless eagles 
looking for remnants of our nest among anthills
at a traffic light fragmented by hideous sores
we lost the burial songs made golden by the Sun
and made the Dead sleep like babes at Home
 
it was here we remembered
the splash of Colors, the smell of Exile
the poverty of dispossession which soaked our souls
froze memories of green Hills of Home
and made us grow resentful to dreams of moonlight joy
 
we looked into the skies and remembered 
when Locusts burst dams and the deep cuts 
of Holy Water drowned the glutton voices of our fathers
our blood drank the pus from our wounds 
buried deep by the locusts beneath the skin
 
we lost our dreams of a harvest
to the splash of colors
we drowned the songs of our fathers
in the roar of the holy water
 
today there are many seas to cross
with deadly triangular calm 
they’ll congeal stubborn death breaths 
while father’s spirit scream at our tenacious fate
 
it is only a season ago since we left, yet
we no longer possess the sounds of the crickets
we no longer dance to the rhythms of the soil
what we have is the pus from the wounds
buried deep by the locusts beneath our skin


Details | Free verse | |

Living the Dream

I am living the dream.
I stand here today,
Cannot believe what I am about to say,
But I am living the dream.
At times, it's tough
And it is not always easy.
I might be condemned
For choosing this path in life;
Some may think it's too bag of a risk.
When we give it our all,
Our passion and our might,
We can overcome and forget the fear
To become who we are meant to be.
I stand here today,
Another tear ready to wipe away:
You can do all you aspire to do!
Set your mind and never give up!
If I can do it,
You can too!
I can't believe I'm about to say this,
But I am living my dreams.
I am living the dream.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Old House and the New Home

The Old House and the New Home
©2011 C. Brent Cloyd

I’ve lived in houses in the country side
There with my family I did abide
By the dust and gravel of a country road
Much pride was taken in our humble abode

I’ve lived in houses perched on a hill
Many of which are not standing still
They provided shelter in their time
Provoked memories that make life rhyme 

I’ve lived in a house on a city street
Where the neighbors came out at night to meet
I’ve lived in houses made of wood and stone
On avenues where children could safely roam

I’ve lived in houses of mortar and brick
Where driveways were paved and the grass was thick
I’ve enjoyed houses far better than most
Where friends would come and I could serve as host

But my current house seems like a foreign land
Where everyone wants to lend me a hand
Living in this place is not my desire
Of this arrangement I easily tire

The time has come for me to leave
To this old house I will not cleave
I no longer want a cottage here below
To a fine home in heaven soon I will go.

I long not for a mansion or streets of gold
But just a place where I will never grow old
A place where pain and sadness are never more
Where happiness is found on every shore

I am eager, yes ready, to move out
To possess my new home with a shout!
The promised home Jesus went to prepare
Death please come quickly, I want to be there.


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Nobody Home

I don't sit home waiting for love to come call,
though I'm spending all my time alone;
the next time I hear love knock on my heart,
if it's you, there's nobody home.

When I answered the knock to admit you,
I didn't know what was in store;
you cheated and hurt me, then broke my heart,
if you knock, I'm not home anymore.

When you left I reached the conclusion,
that no-one at all in my life;
was better for me in the long run,
than being a cheating mans wife.

So don't come knocking again at my heart,
thinking I'll let you come home;
you better believe when I tell you,
if it's you, there's nobody home.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

92

92
How some students grew up on the Computor? 
and can't function in the real world right click the bus mommy and place it at the 
stop it is taking much too long to come around the horn. form method="post" 
This paragraphic is free to be a space bar for mee and ewe. 
option>Sometimes in my fables there is parts and pieces of mye poems this is 
not yellow journalism or nepotism or even bad form eye can copy and paste and 
then add text eye can translate pictures into banners and banners into love eye 
can relate a page to GOD and find a way to enter clouds formed and someday 
eye will make it rain inside this idiot Computor box and it will fry all the electronic 
components of every Computor in the world then we will all go outside again and 
inhale the fresher air. 
value="Radio" 
Just now eye went to a Bravenet website to make me a new website and its free 
but of course the upgrades would cost me but the free sights is challenging and 
it gave me a code for a welcome type box and it did NOT work as it is in the form 
of a a href not a url. The idea is the webpage would bring me people they would 
sign my little guestbook too bad it does not even relate to the page it won't 
translate at all the code is wrong its backwards to a forum type webpage the url 
is too long. The HEY REF only works on websites the URL IMG thing only works 
on FORUMS how many people have followed links to there destruction. When 
eye got the thing on my FIRST PAGE of HOME the thing took off with me when eye 
clicked it open we went for an internet ride and eye lost the page eye was on NO 
fun. Eye would not want a HOME Computor user to become lost in navigation 
when he was just trying to let me knoe that he had viewed my poems. The thing 
is done the web page that they gave me is very green and nice looking but does 
not do a real function oh well in this Brave New World does anything rally have to 
have a function and so mye gentle reader ewe it seems to mee the eye the poet 
fable maker fabulist like Aesop that eye am just the new proud owner of another 
big white elephant so they will always benefit from instruction of this knowledge 
from someone please open windows as many as yew want and let them learn 
yew some. 


Details | Free verse | |

Blue Dot

We should not destroy this thing that keeps us alive
This dot in the universe 
A place where we all can roam
This place we all call  our home
We are delusional if we think we have a place
On the grand scheme of things we are small
Smaller than grains of sand almost nothing at all
This blue dot in space is all we have for life
So why do we quarrel, fight and cause strife
This dot is all we know
Nothing above us and nothing below
A little piece of dust hanging in the heaven's
A place where we work and play
A place of war and peace
In the vastness of space we are alone
Yet we fail to help each other along the way
This blue dot in the vast universe
A place where we should not shed it to pieces
This blue dot we call home
This blue dot that we should cherish.


Details | Lyric | |

Turn Back Around

~Turn Back Around~

Sad eyes looking up at us
How can we ignore them?
Walking away like they don’t mean a thing
Like the ones who already hurt them
They are crying out for someone to notice them
Love them
Take care of them
Lonely children of the world 
Being walked away from
Isn’t it about time we 

~Turn Back Around~

The child who had to runaway just to get away
From the beatings
The nightly visits from a stranger in their bed
The drunken rages 
The Terror they were raised in
A parent who molests them
Innocence taken
Yet we don’t even hear them
As they cry out for help
It is time to 
~Turn Back Around~

Give them a chance
Listen to what they have to say
A home to call their own
Safe from the abuse
Safe from the terror
A home filled with love
A place to grow
In comfort rather than fear
Off of the streets
Away from the danger
That is what they are wanting
All we have to do is

~Turn Back Around~

Quit ignoring those 
Sad eyes looking up at us
Do what is right and 

~Turn Back Around~

By: Jean Bonella 


Details | Epitaph | |

My Home's Eternity

My birth was merely the setting
for greater things to come,
And death is but the forgetting 
of all my earthly sum.
I was just a visitor here
that cometh from afar;
My home is a home not of sphere
nor that of yonder star.
Tis a far better home I've found,
a home of God's decree;
A home to which I'm ever bound,
my home's eternity.


Details | Free verse | |

The Casting of The Rope

The casting of the rope imbues me with the power to sail away,
It seems like such a final thing though I know I’ll return some day.
My love I leave behind, for he wouldn’t sail the deep blue sea.
His love for his home and books, was greater than the love he held for me.

I wish I could have stayed, but the sea my heart does truly call.
Waves, wind, and motion, will always hold me in their thrall.
The horizon beckons my name, along with every waiting port of call.
While his nose is in his books, I will truly experience it all.

I will view the sites as only, living it can bring,
I will hear the sounds and smell the smells; life brings into being.
I will know the language of the dolphins and the power of the sea,
I will feel the mighty wind and the salt spray, as they come to me.

In each port I will savor the flavor of their foods, as I would savor him.
So why, oh why, will my true love not consent to be with me, in truth?
I laid my heart at his feet and bared all my soul as it is, in the end…
But he cast the ropes and my yearning heart free, he would not unbend.

So there he lingers in his home, while my heart and home are upon the sea. 
Why, oh why, would my true love… not consent to come with me?


Details | Free verse | |

Flowers on the Volunteers' Desk

Flowers are blooming on the volunteers’ desk:
Roses, carnations, a spring bouquet,
Dish gardens and gold mums (a more masculine look,
The florist said).
Blooming like a garden
Of well-wishes and sentiment,
Blooming here in the hospital lobby
(Well, after all, it is spring).
Each vase or container bears a card.
What is its destination?
The new mother in Maternity?
“Oh, how pretty,” as she nurses her baby.
Or the woman down the hall?
Whose baby died after a brief flicker of life.
That’s all she’ll take home (this time): flowers.
Maybe to the tough kid on the third floor?
It was just an appendicitis, “no big deal.”
Next week, (or the next), he’ll be back 
With his friends on Saturday night.
“Hey, look at his scar,” “Cool!”
Maybe that one goes to the old man,
You know, the one who’s dying of…something,
They don’t know exactly….old age?
He’d rather be at home in his garden.
A hospital full of people,
But only enough flowers
To cover the top of the volunteers’ desk.
How many patients, (impatient, really)
Will get nothing today?
Here come the couriers with just a few more.
“Let’s go…..hospitals are depressing.”
Even with (especially with) so many pretty flowers
Waiting on the volunteers’ desk.


Details | Free verse | |

Going West

to see the hills
and tree's with palm
to feel the ocean on 
my nose
to drink the wine 
and rest on a bar 
to write in the streets 
but sleep in a room
to ride the bus absorbing
the pain
to stare at women and
their legs 
to laugh as my buddy,brother,friend
coughs from the joint. 

to drink for the cheers
of being alive


Details | I do not know? | |

Holocene

There are times in your life 
when you walk toward the light
by moving out of dark like any mystic


and before the light has gone
it will brand you with a song
a mark that say's your home is globalistic


and again before too long 
your works will soon belong
to the centre of the holocene ballistic


now, the cosmos is the carpet of our soul
the galaxy, the whole of me
the milky way the holocene
the gas that tore abundance from 
the plume of natures pelt


and before the light has gone
it will brand you with a song
a mark that say's your home is globalistic


there are times in your life 
when you walk toward the light
by moving out of dark like any mystic.

©S.Watts









(c)s.watts


Details | Rhyme | |

Take Me Home

Take me home, 
But it will be okay.
What if we can be a role model for someone else?
Then I'll stay.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Calling

And you oh Father judge of all mens hearts
have examined the core of our secret parts
for each mans conscience knows what is True
and has his choice of what he listens to

Those whose works are harmful have aversion to the Light
for they wish all deeds to be hidden away from sight
Oh Father the hearts the Son of Man could see
how is it possible the gift be given we

Those whom the Father loves with them he shares his mind
for those who want the Truth the shining Path will find
for he can see your thoughts and your hearts intent
those who want the Truth and how your thoughts are spent

All the things of man are preserved in your Book
the Lamb of God will unseal and within will look
all those doing righteousness will into kingdom come
the workers of whats harmful and the liars be undone

From the abundance of the heart does each one speak
and how you judge another in oneself will complete
my spirit my God is molded by your hand
I listen to your discipline and your reprimand

Oh beloved children you are close to his heart
sought he has your redemption from the very start
the wayward sons left their home and into Egypt ran
spent their inheritance on things that will not stand

God freely offers Life within his heart and home
with a Loving family on need never be alone
come break bread together fellowship do share
let Gods loving kindness give your heart repair

Return to your Fathers house and his grand estate
with open arms he'll take you home and repatriate
precious to the Father is every child born
why live in rebellion and loss of Love do mourn

As the Word of God foretold
this dispensations end behold
the age of Gods Kingdom to unfold
spoken by the ancients in days of old

Those who know the Truth watch in great delight
God will collect together those precious in his sight
come you who are laden heavy give to him your pain
embraced within his loving arms be free to Love again

sources IICor 2:16 Hebrews 3:1-6 Phil.2:6-8
Ephesians 2:19 IIPeter 1:10 Isaiah 54:5

COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC


Details | Sonnet | |

My Home and Prison

In my quietude not all is silent,
  Sheep's in the meadow - the dairy herds graze:
And in the remains of day's last remnant
  Cries old ruru in a black smoky haze.
Season's turn have shed evanescent bloom
  Beyond the wired penitentiary wall:
The great forest timberlands distant loom,
  Possums in the Pohutukawa crawl.
Winter leaf and hoary frost will soon lie
  On needled pines in planted shady row,
Where Orion and Hercules in the sky
  Cast giant shadows on Paremoremo.
And my dog, he listens and licks my face
In my corner of the world and shut space.

                  -------------

Pronounced... Pa-ray-mo-ray-mo: A prison and a small community in New Zealand.
                     Po-hoot-tu-ka-wa:  A native tree that blooms around December with
                                                 Beautiful red flowers. The NZ Christmas Tree.

                     Ruru is a native owl.
                     Orion and Hercules are military aircraft 
                     From the nearby Air Force base.


May 1992


Details | Free verse | |

Round and Round

Funny how all these branching roads
so frequently turn into circles.

Before, I dreamed of adventure.
I dreamed of service, of travel,
of the unknown; of things
few others get to claim.

And now that such are mine,
or elsewise in easy reach,
I find the impending voyage home
more than luxurious, more than exquisite;
I just want this road to circle there
for longer than this brief visit -
but ever will it lead on.

Before, I made my way
by the touch of my muse,
the caress of the wind,
arms of the rain and light of the moon.

For months I was grounded,
viciously, to reality; forced to walk
amid an effusion of sweat, pain, and pride.
And now that those two worlds
have finally met,
I'm gradually circling back
to the more ephemeral world of yesteryear.

Before, I yearned for love -
longed for the sweet embrace
of one desired and devoted;
one to walk with, truly akin by the heart.

Now, 'tis much the same -
'twas put on pause for a time,
and I can't speak with certainty
on whether I was closer then, or now.
But after that hiatus from the heart,
I've quickly made my way 'round,
to dreams of a woman who laughs and dances in the rain.

You watch yourself move on,
change a little.
You look in the rear-view mirror
as you drive these dark, foggy roads -
you watch growth and tremors
in your reflection in the pond,
and see the past in the future.

The circle of life isn't simply
a song, an idea -
'tis a sight that unfolds before every eye,
if one cares enough to watch.


Details | Free verse | |

War Socks

Walking home tonight
the bourealis at its peak
walking in the circles in my mind
of the maze of the mansion
i realise i am wearing camoflauge war socks
and marching home peacefully
and as the gods told me it was time to take reality for a walk
i closed my eyes and saw the blueprint i had
and then just described it

now i'm thinking of the flag in my room of the pirate skull
and my other blue pair of socks
with the crossbones and skulls on them
and i knew with these posters of all these beautiful men around me
a mirror i tell less attractive people
to tell themselves four good things about themselves
a mirror in the shape of a bike tire
to exercise inner demons

but the planes flying over head understand wether or not we march for the socks
of meaning or the posters of the slide of beautifull people and mirrors
of vanity and selfish needs


Details | I do not know? | |

SSRI's and I

SSRI's and I ...


... the sounds of thoughts clattering, my neurones sparking,
like Dylan said, my morning recedes jingling and a-jangling,

worn down by this leaden knot, tearing my insides out,
the cacophony drowned in a whisper, lost in a silent shout,

dreams and screams scratching the back of my dry throat,
caged in, liberation hovering like a mirage beyond the moat.


I claw my way, slowly, through a thicket of solitude,
feeling my emotions peeling, stung by unseen nettles,

crawling to an open field, to rest, beneath a sky ablaze with stars,
as my mind glides, brushing the soft grass as it peacefully settles ...







Details | Free verse | |

On My Way Home

When day is done and night draws near
   I'll stumble out to greet the waning light

I'll grope for keys to start the old wheels turning
   And head for home again

Thought the time is short, the drive is long
   And all seems in a haze

My mind turns back the pages now
  As alone I start to think

Of days gone by that still remain
   So deep inside of me

Days that filled my soul and more
   So bright the light that shined

But all is past and drive I must
   On my way home again


Details | I do not know? | |

The Shedding of Skin

The Shedding of Skin. 

Parched lullabies seem jarring,
gentle persuasion an assault,
quiet understanding reeking of decay,
fatigued under this skin in which I must stay. 

Dreams of moulting,
shedding the hubris of crafty words,
flushing away all famished rhymes,
ripping the fibres of an ink-stained past. 

Knowing. 

Always knowing,

that honey-soaked kisses, seem destined,
breathlessly,
never to last. 


Details | I do not know? | |

No More This and That

...no more this and that as
the sweltering pain distills empty chit-chat

in the clarity of the dawn
while blinded lovers fawn

the words that are spoken are mostly broken

meant not in truth but merely as a consolation token

of placating shredded hearts with lie upon lie

while weaving tales high up in the unreachable sky

torn and twisted truths clung onto so tight-fisted

but as the smoke clears the truth sears

through the gurgling blood flowing down the years

and after hour upon hour of salt-drenched tears

while long suppressed fears springs forth and reappears

as feelings shift gears and as it all in a flash disappears

and though yesterday was gentle and the passions elemental

today its all just slipped away

beyond reach of even tomorrow as emotions faltered and began to sway

and so wrath wraps itself in doleful cloth

silently despising all movement yet resenting all weary sloth

wheezing past the denizens of the glorious ivory towers

seated on fences that expose all defences

stripping away the layers of dismembered senses

and in the end the one that breaks is the one that refuses to bend

to yield and lower the mock shield

stamping its bitter verdict inside an emptiness that is within a vacuum sealed

so awaken to the realisation that all that was has been forsaken

while idle moments seem ripe to be taken

through thick and thin and the bluster and the din

of feeling the agony of being kicked in the shin

and cast aside, off from the always treacherous ride

with nowhere left to go

and no place safe to hide...


Details | Free verse | |

Young, Hurtful Souls

Let's put ourselves in their shoes
Let's take time to understand why they act the way they do

They're tired
Tired of being surrounded by liars

Tired of seeing bags underneath their eyes
Developed from the lonely night cries

They're tired of being tired the next day from the night before
All from staying awake waiting for their mom to walk through the door

Their tired of feeling like nobody cares
Being alone, with no food to eat is too much to bare

Tired of what's suppose to be a home being a house
Of seeing parents play with their children while stuck on the inside looking out

Tired of wondering why do they have to suffer the pain
And be apart of life's hardest game

Tired of crying when people see what's wrong
As if we don't hear the sad tune playing in their hurtful song

They yearn to be where they belong and desire to be
A place where they can feel good, happy, and stress free

Where they can smile, laugh, and play
But mostly, go home to a loving family at the end of each day


Details | Narrative | |

The long walk home

I remember as a child walking through the countryside,
People were so polite to greet each other – how are you?
With simple lifestyle in an agricultural ambience,
Theirs is my goal, my future longing to welcome.

While I’d always prefer to walk - rain or shine,
I couldn’t help but see first my friend close by;
my hero who saved me while getting drowned
the time of our town fiesta of Our Lady of Peñafrancia.

Old folks who used to hang out and visit us,
because of my grandma who’d say ‘come’,
some of them would really come and say:
‘we’re here to join you for a nice meal.’

On big celebrations like Christmas and town fiesta,
family relations would come in droves to see us;
their children would come along to ask something,
especially gifts and some money for this event.

For a child like these things serve as imprints,
a treasure trove of memories I still cherish;
a connecting link to my past with sentiments
indeed, it’s a heartland of true importance.

Described as a centerpiece of family interaction,
our home was like a rendezvous of some people,
whose attachments to our features of being hospitable,
welcome them to enjoy our kindness and compassion.

Though, to some of them our place was quite a distance,
but it didn’t matter to walk on foot, to come to our home;
It’s because they saw and felt truly a welcoming culture
from each member that fashioned to say no problem at all.

The long walk home may set the tone of exhaustion, 
But this reminds me of a pilgrim like in the bible;
The Holy Family who, in their flight to reach their destination,
Finds a place where they can be safe and call it a home.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Vagabond Within

The Vagabond Within.

I slip through cracks,
my memories dimming,
as thoughts of yesterday swirl,
down dreary tunnels of decay,
into the chasm that is today.

Waiting, forever waiting,
to belong, yearning to fit in,
taking solace in transient cities,
wearing masked faces,
tailored for fleeting places.

 I stagger each night, lost,
wasting precious breaths,
drawn from a lifetime of sighs,
no consolation from the cruel,
while donning the skin of the fool.

Wrestling unseen demons,
dreading tomorrow as it nears,
ripping away my shallow smile,
withering into a hollow shell,
seeking comfort in everyday hell.

I stumble, I falter,
words slipping off pen onto paper,
fickle doleful murmurs of distaste,
at the gradual emptying of a soul,
needing to shed it all to be whole.

Stray dogs savage each other inside,
a body lathered in deep muck,
soiling my pants, wetting my being,
whistling promises that turn into lies,
the plaintive songs of a clown that cries.

I am momentary, 
a soap bubble on the breeze,
just smoke clearing into thin air,
wasting away in my cocooned lair,
too old to change, too young to care.


Details | Rhyme | |

That Day

I'm looking forward to the day when I hear
My dear Savior's voice calling soft in my ear.

Bidding me welcome to my home up above
a home that is filled with His peace and love.

O what a wonderful day that will be
The day I see Jesus and He welcomes me.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Onoins

I never did like onions
Or how it feels in my mouth
Try it once when I was small
But then quickly spit it out

I never did try it again
And I say that I never will
And so many years has past
haven’t change my mind still

When I got to buy fast food
I will always say before 
No onion and mayo please
Then ill double check for sure

But love make we do funny things
Especially when your love is true
The girl I love says, she love onions
And I said OMG I love it to

When you really love someone
There’s nothing you wouldn't do
You will sacrifice anything 
To show Your love for them is true

At that time I wasn't thinking
Guess I put my foot in mouth
Now I spend the whole day thinking
Of a way for me to get it out

I have to go by her this Sunday
To meet she mother and father
And if everything goes well
I plan to give her a ring after

But she said her father is a chef
From a long line of generation
And when he cooking food
He does use a whole lot of onion

Onions are one of the worlds 
Most popular vegetable,
And she father cooking Sunday
So I feeling very uncomfortable

Sit down at the table
He really cook allot of food
He put a lot of onions
So my fear for it got renewed

Comes time for dinner now
I ask for paper plate
Then I start picking out 
The onions to make separate

They all quiet watching me 
Waiting for me to explain
Trying to think of something fast
And idea comes to my brain

So I say to enjoy my onions
I have to be home watching TV
So I taking this home with me
To eat while watching C.S.I, Miami

Later that night told my girl friend
I don’t like onions I’m sorry
She said you do all the for me
So she drop a big kiss on me


Details | Couplet | |

Meadow's Sigh

The meadow’s breath a gift to all, the misty mornings’ dew,
a silent sigh, a heartfelt call, a prayer to me and you.

So green and warm, and full of life, the forest skirt and the maids’ delight.
There rabbits dwell in lovers’ dells;A gauze filled dream in morning light.

So gold and bright, and full of life, the forests skirt and Knights delight;
The Dame and doe do lie, ‘pon hillocks high, where lovers sleep with passion's cry.


So white and fair, yet full of life, the forests’ skirt of pearly white;
Where burrowers sleep in bowers deep, and hearths light on winter nights.

The meadow's breath a gift to all, the misty morning’s dew;
A silent sigh, a heartfelt call, aA prayer to me and you.

Now, no green bloom, no home for them, the builders-men once more;
to take the glen and make man's homes, no deer will roam fourscore. 

A meadow’s a home to many things, to bold butterflies and birds on wing,
Yet, few can dwell where men reside if forest's skirt, gives way to tide.

The meadow's breadth a gift to all, from sea to shining sea
America, a heartfelt call, a prayer to you and me.




Details | Imagism | |

Corporate Hell


                                                          Walmart
                                                       by Steven Pineda

         There is a place that I work at that is called Walmart.  I get ready everyday just to go to work for the evil corporation of slave drivers.  The managers there are like giants holding whips slashing you and telling you to do there bidding.  You do get a break ever two hrs but the water they give you is gasoline and is nasty and they shackle you to the store so you will not try to escape and run for your life.  I stand at the register which is an evil machine that sticks its claws into you and doesn't allow you to move till you feed it money.  And the thing you should be scared of is the almighty customer which you have to bow down to and do what ever they say. As I stand there waiting for them to come with all there nasty goodies their going to buy I tremble because I can hear the sound of their foot steps which is like nails on a chalk bored screeching towards you.  If they choose you and go to your line beware for there are not forgiving and will throw you to the fire at a given chance.  The first customers comes towards me and with whips starts hitting me and telling me to move faster to ring up there items so they can go home and dwell in they cave they came from.  Hands hurting, Fingers bleeding this is the life of a cashier.  At the end of the day I reach the doors and something magical happens I grow my wings back and fly home to enjoy myself.  Then in return I become the customer and make another cashier bow down to me.


Details | I do not know? | |

ONE CHAIN

I AM

One chain
 
away
 
from the day
 
when everything was so black
 
and grey   
 
 
 
One chain
 
away
 
from when I actually care
 
about anything you have to say
 
 
 
One chain
 
away
 
from home sweet home
 
and home sweet home to stay
 
 
 

One chain 
 
away
 
from getting down on my knees
 
to say thank you, God, and pray
 
 
 
 
One chain 
 
away 
 
from convincing myself
 
that I'm gonna make it
 
and be ok
 
 
 
One chain 
 
away
 
from feeling hopeless
 
each and everyday
 
 
 
One chain 
 
away
 
from being on my back
 
abused
 
confused
 
and under attack
 
when everything was so grey
 
and black
 
  
One chain
 
away
  
from coming out of the black and grey
 
into the light where I can finally see
 
 

One chain
 
away


  from breaking loose 
 
and running free

from leaving you
 
and loving me


Details | Light Poetry | |

Phone

he was buried today
had along lines of cars
no more will he feel the pains
from all of his scars

Flowers on each side
Where his casket lay
Lowering him down 
As her heart mourns today

Every one comes to her
Her eyes swollen with grief
Saying how they are so sorry
As they slowly leave

His mother was hospitalize
it was to much for her brain
she just couldn't bear that she
won’t see her only son again

His life was taken away
At such a very young age
By a driver on her phone
Checking her face book page

It was just last week 
She was in her home cloths
In the kitchen making dinner
Grill chicken and Mash potatoes

When she ran out of ketchup
So he leave to go alone
Then he was hit by a girl
Distracted by her cell phone

When he did not return
She knew some thing was wrong
When she got the call 
she fell to the ground

Her father told her leave here
Come back home to Trinidad
But right now she’s so confuse
She lost the only one she ever had

Now she has to be strong
And learn to be a survivor
Now that all from her life was taken
By the habits of a careless driver

A message to all the careless drivers
Who are driving while on the phone?
Stop now before you’re responsible
For Some one not reaching back home


Details | Heroic Couplets | |

Babylon

There is a new home I have found
A place where even I am renowned.
So many new friends that helped me
Know who and what I am meant to be.

Blythe, Lady,Poison, Rob, Cheri,
Mart, Striker, Charles and Ms D,
To just name a precious few
Who were able to help me through.

They helped see what was inside
All I am and all I was denied.
They all gave graciously time to me,
To talk, to learn, to see and to just be.

This new place is my new haven
It surely keeps me from the craven.
This new home is my new found joy
A place where I know no one will annoy

A place that lets me explore my desires
My new found wants and all that fires.
A place that sings to me like a song
My home is none other than Babylon


Details | Free verse | |

A New Dimension

Once you walk away and close that door
You'll never be able to go home again
Your world changes once that lock clicks
Walking fast never stopping to look back

A new dimension to your life begins
Childhood becomes a precious memory
You feel nostalgia for the small moments
Butterfly kisses and bedtime stories

You'll never be able to go home again
Stilted conversations in a home not yours
Longing to be wrapped in those strong arms
Those arms that once held you tight

A new dimension to your life begins
Carving out a new path to follow
Teaching yourself what life should be
Sorrows and joys are so lonely without you

Childhood becomes a precious memory
Choosing to remember things that were good
Weeping willow fortress and caramel apples
Summer twilight and low pitched laughing

Once you close that door and walk away
Your childhood life merely becomes memory
You can never go back to the life you had
A new dimension of your life begins 


Details | I do not know? | |

The Vase

When just a child so young
I saw it in your home
The very beautiful vase
That sat on a shelf alone

A vase of glass cut so fine
It held a single rose divine
Admiring it from afar
At home we only had a jar

Our furnishing were simple
In our home there was no plan
It was not designed by a master
We did the best that we could demand

How could I ever imagine
A vase just so refine
You would put in my trousseau
So I could have a rose divine


Details | Free verse | |

The Cultivated Mind (Home Grown)

Father and Mother 
With golden determination 
Focused to open my thoughts 
in several ways of revelation -- 
My manner is... Homegrown 
The once green mind still looks back; 
at all that has been revealed to its now browned shell… 
and with that same determination of gold 
I pass down the revelations of old 
to my children, as I have been told 
The mind should always be 
Cultivated to the best of ones abilities.... 
Its focus should start within the home 
That is why I feel blessed 
When I tell you my children 
Most assuredly -- I am Home Grown.


Author’s Comments: 
As a farmer tills the earth and toils to harvest that which he has sown and the wife 
prepares the table before him, produced from within the bounty reaped thereof... 
 Thus, we should take the time to cultivate the minds of our children, to also 
acknowledge their surroundings and the people there in. 
To stay focused on the blessings at hand, that they not live stagnant lives but to be 
productively responsible for the gifts which they each so uniquely possess. 
 The mind is a terrible thing to waste.


Details | Verse | |

A Dripping Rose

A penalty pinned down my conscious,
When a high volt power injected me unsuspended shock,
Unawakened and unconscious,
I cried as a fish, out of water.
Imagination of discrimination terrified me,
My soul was jerking with dizziness,
The democratic system was trembling,
The bureaucracy was pinning the nibs into my dreams.
Not only once, terminology of deeds,
Curriculummed deliberation of considerations,
And ranked bribery and recommendations,
To reward innocence and honesty,
To secure human values,
A system was highjacked by think tanks.
As I experienced after applying a vacancy online,
Where home office advertised descriptions of a job,
And declined with direct approach in moments,
I experienced my capabilities,
Home office departments, on various occasions,
Rewarded me, a safe and tolerated direction,
And provoked me to enjoy the fire with my qualifications,
To protect my future from cold weather.
Not only Home office also local councils, 
Highjacked individual progress and prosperity,
Criminality always delivered justice of excuses,
Where democratic equal opportunity services policy,
That was lying dead on a log of ice.
My pain was streaming into flames,
My throat was drying with the taste of equal opportunism.
I was imprisoned into the democratic boundaries,
Where my performance was demarcated into various barriers,
My soul was delivering justice through my poetry,
But my unemployment forced me always,
To learn about high ranked poor and victimized positions, 
And my tolerances run down after touching a sore of sand.
The bubbling rust was claiming superiority,
Law is equal for all.


Details | Free verse | |

A Love Lost

The love lost was in a home
The love lost had worn its course and left on its own
It was unhappy
Because the love wasn't there the way it was planned to be

The lost love was broken down bit by bit
Day by day
Minute by minute
And fate by fate

It was tired of not being used
They made it feel neglected and abused
In this house, love was nowhere to be found
It was suppose to speak clear and loud, but it couldn't make a sound

The love lost wasn't felt in the hearts of the home
Instead, it was left outside in the cold to love alone
To dream of a home looking for love to fill the space between the walls
But until then, he has to wait until a home calls


Details | Verse | |

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Where do you come from?

  I crossed parched deserts, climbed rugged mountains,
  gazed at steep canyons, ford a few fast raging streams,
  flew over dark storm clouds where eagles never dared,
  gusts blowing on my ears with each story they bared.

What place do you call home?

  I have been all over the world, either real or in my mind,
  giving way to this wanderlust, surrendering to the wind;
  I went to places where mythical goddesses once lived
  ere coming to a spot where the real God was revealed.

Are you from the Far East?

  When I was younger I saw the far corners of America
  and before I die I dream to be on safari in dark Africa;
  just  to behold the majestic Sphinx and the Pyramids
  sums up all the experiences much more than I need.

Man, you are not answering my questions!

  Oh yes, I heard you alright but you were not listening.

  Home, my friend, is not a boundary, locality or a place,
  you cannot find it on a map but on some stranger's face;
  home is a state of mind, anything that you want it to be,
  home is where the heart is is what this rover has to say.




Details | Sonnet | |

I Just Want To Go Home

I just want to go home
And start my life again
Not as a grown woman
But as a child with no pain

I want to be with my family
Who will care for me tenderly
Who’ll permit me to have a voice
And allow me to just be me

I don’t want to be a grown woman
Nor the responsibilities now in place
I want to be able live my life freely
I want to go home and try to retrace

I’m clearly begging for affection
Something I’m not receiving at this time
Please allow me to come home again
My disposition is purely sublime

© Stacy Lynn Stiles


Details | I do not know? | |

Patience

Sometimes home isn’t where the heart is;
I have a home somewhere I’m sure.
My heart hasn’t found it yet,
but last time I looked
in the box you gave me
to hold my pocket watch,
I felt your home
in the corner
of my mind
waiting
for me
to decide


Details | Free verse | |

MeloncollY BabY

Meloncolly Baby 
MeloncollY Baby 
Homesickness threatens me what with the World Wide Web at my fingertips 
Eye just smurfed a place that used to be my home before the SATAN came 
The place looks just the same as it ever was eye used to walk those streets 
Eye used to live those streets and almost eye was thrown away in that place. 
The bricks inside that building will all decay and fill a hole of great despair 
The entire city needs to burn to be destroyed to get the edges of the sword 
Eye cannot believe the sun is still ashining on the Stalingrad's hill. The place of 
vengeance of the scorpions the place of the passing of my shadow the sight of 
places eye remember has made me loose has made me useless. 
Eye remember far too much comeuppances hate has ruled their daytime lives. 
The city built of MAN will face the Judgment of its GOD and now the sins of this 
one man have been forgiven him. We only live until we die. 
No, eye am not proud to be American or proud to have no home eye am not 
proud of anything that eye have done just glad to be away from that Queer City of 
the sun. Homesick not. Homeless in America Homeless but eye won. 


Details | Bio | |

Tears

The tears of a million years,
Create an ocean of deep emotion,
The heart swollen with pain
Finds each beat a strain...
I toss and turn,
My mind does burn...
Distant railroad sounds,
Disturb the night...
I miss the pelting raindrops
Over my old bed,
Lullabies through the night,
And remembrances attached to
The home that is no more...
How I wish I'd died there,
That I know for sure

Die at a home that's my home,
As my family did,
Not here in this forsaken forest,
Alone, alone, alone, alone....
Screaming from each aching bone

But fate has tricked me once again,
And this is where I'll die,
Alone in no-where's-ville
No one to see me cry.

No hand to hold,
No goodbyes to whisper
No last kiss upon the cheek,
I go out alone, alone, alone,
Alone, alone, one last groan,
I die alone and feeling meek.


Details | Free verse | |

Grant My Desire

Grant my desires…
To convey my thoughts freely
To holler at candid volumes 
What must be expressed, deafeningly
That anguished chagrin burning
A fiery spark of reverence
In the eyes of those passing me by
While day-by-day the masses survive
Existing in lives adrift in unconsciousness

Grant my desires…
For this world I’ll beget
Held by consequences of odium and ardor
I’ll bring victory from the jaws of lethargy
Once granted the tools the scenes I design
Concrete towers replaced by a home lakeside
Superhighways lost to the bubbling of creeks
In the easy hills of fresh cut grass
Life shall never be what it seems

Grant my desire…
For a new beginning constructed
Where you and I shall live in utopia found
A place foreign to anger or conflict and sorrow
I shall build this life for only we two
In which we can discover the beauty of each
Where all things will be clear and untainted
A home where you may sleep in the peace you crave
Unfettered and whole in the oneness of both

Grant my desire…
For the strength to fight forward
Defending this cause to bring about change
Investing of creativity and blissful intent
Of a fervor carried forth on angels wings
Like the perfect ring shall this hope last
No beginning or end found in its features
Eternity claimed by the chance of the moment
In the die of perfection cast

Grant my desire…
And as tribute to be presented
I shall weave you a tapestry of providence
Highlights intertwined of fate and desire
Covering the many walls of our life’s toil
Telling our stories for those whom discover
The bridge between perfection and cold reality  
Grant my desire to convey my thoughts freely
To holler out at candid volumes…