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Age Home Poems | Age Poems About Home

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

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Details | Rhyme | |

The Strings That Bind

Let The Music Play On

When I am melancholy 
And feeling, all alone
I place my violin 
On my shoulder, like a phone
Then start a conversation
In melodic overtones
and every string that speaks to me
Brings me closer back to home

I can smell the coffee brewing
There're hotcakes on the griddle
And Gram-pa in the corner 
Strumming lightly on His fiddle
And now that fiddle's mine
He passed it on to me
So I could find my way back home
Wherever I may be

One day I’ll have a child
May be, a He or She
I hope they'll learn its language
And treat it patiently
And take it safely with them
Wherever they may roam
‘Cause all they have to do is play
To find there way back home


Details | Free verse | |

The Heart Of The Edifice

                                           The Heart Of The Edifice   

                                           In the midst of the forest 
              Of skeletal trees, green cedar, pine, and brush is the thickest
                                        Standing so tall and  blissful 
                    Enduring weathering and erosion that slowly chisels,
                            Earth's rock into ever evolving work of art
                              A rock structure that use to be the heart 
                             Of the edifice where long time recurrence
                                    Of lives that lived with endurance 
                                    The, hiss, crackling fire persuades 
                                                    Warm comfort 
                                        From a chilly cold winter day, 
                                Or soaked from the hard pounding rain
                                             That chills to the bone
                            The scents of smoke, mixed with spice food,
                       Coffee, and bread cooking in a cast iron Dutch oven

                               Now habitat of natures small creatures 
                     A rock structure that use to be the heart of the edifice
                                       Standing so tall and  blissful 
                                          In the midst of the forest 
               Of skeletal trees, green cedar, pine, and brush is the thickest
                      Enduring weathering and erosion that slowly chisels,
                               Earth's rock into ever evolving work of art

                                                  By: Eve Roper
                                                        1/2/2014

 


Details | Sonnet | |

Blossoms And Bubbles

Dancing butterflies and laughter
without a care. A day full of sweet
smelling blossoms fill the air.

Sister's golden hair glistened in the
Summer sun's glow, as Mother blew
colorful bubbles that bounced off
her little nose.

Mother's  heart was always full of
love to share and the day of blossoms,
and bubbles will forever in my memories
be kept with  loving care.

Precious and few are moments shared
together. This wonderful day of blossoms
and bubbles, in my heart will last forever.


April 6, 2015


Details | Rhyme | |

FREEDOM



All American's enjoy our free land
Our freedom isn't free the men who died for taking a stand,

We all know nothing is for free
It comes with a high price that we some times refuse to see,

To pretend it is all for a good cause
Do we really know when or where it all became so flawed,

The wounded soldiers whom suffered and died in so much pain
Was it all just in vain,

Their spirits are every where looking for comfort and rest
Will we ever know how much those soldiers did their best,

Even to this day our men and women are still defending
The land we call America that we cherish and love pretending,

Where does it stop and ever end
Maybe when God comes back then hopefully we can all win.


Written By: Unique Poetry 2015


Details | Free verse | |

I Do Believe

"I Do Believe" 

The purpose of LIFE is to {Living In Faith Ever} 
to enrich God within us 
to an optimum level 
so that We as Humans 
can be guided by God 
to fuel out brothers and sisters 
with the same driving force 
to connect with the living God, 
to His existence and 
to See the Invisible, 
Believe the Incredible, and 
to Receive the Impossible 
to our everlasting journey 
to Heaven.

Rev. Samuel Mack
Copyright 2013

http:paladinnews1.blogspot.com


Details | Rhyme | |

Memories on Branches

How did a cherry kiss? Bitter flower petals with sweet pistils.
So laden they act as halos while we breathe the love
in a pink hollow, silence sounding like taste, acting like epistle
to hold this moment in a silvery image, like moon, or  dove
low, low, a bowl formed while sunshine flickers above.

Chains of yellow petals hang over our deck, the leaves hands--
offer welcome resting branch, our sheltered home.
Seeds follow close, fragile like beans, hard case to feed the land
crawl before God, they say, be grateful as we weed and stir loam.
Together seeds and flowers and hands make a life a poem.

Awaiting the sumac, the flame at summer's ending is fruitless
we've passed the feathering, the pimping of red underneath bristle
the deer horn softness crawling out in oddest places in a mess
lining the sand pond, above the purpled iris, the pestle
of stone and sun, no rain to bring down sumac's fiery trestle.

Vulturous crows squawk and fight the ring-billed sea gulls
waiting, one in the bared hollow hands of the cottonwood
the other fat-bellied and waddling after rain finally dulls
we're under hoodies,  under shivers, our neighborhood
waits the pinking and mossing, will it unfurl new wood?


Details | Free verse | |

Groundswell Girl - Named by JB

Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be 
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed 
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin 
Whisper lies as I let you in 
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky 
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail


Details | Free verse | |

So Soft

                         So Soft

Serene and silent the head caresses pillow
Landing soft and slowly with a sigh
Quiet sounds of silken quilt
In covered warmth
Receives the fragile woman worn of age
Contentment on her face
As she finds comfort and companion with relief 
In design and form beneath
As she slips between the sheets
A slower moving body
In the cozy bedroom for some tranquil sleep
Outside, snowflakes count down the hours  
Blanketing the relaxed house near heaven
In penetrating peace
Mounting are the flowing mounds of white 
Building moments upon other open moments
Smiles take the woman on a cloud
To drift as well
Composed and calm
Upon her pillow down

             8/21/14 Seasonal Bliss poetry contest


Details | Free verse | |

LOVE

Loyalty
One self
Virtuous
Eternity


Details | Verse | |

Where the heart is

“…you must give this voice to me.”
    ~ Hans Christian Andersen, “The Little Mermaid” (1836)

It’s never true immigration
You’re in the homeland you carry inside
This landscape isn’t so foreign
Over it you seem to gracefully glide
Everyone here is so awkward
They’ll never fathom the pain that you hide
Even as you long to tell them
That tongue you left behind sure can’t confide
How the witch of immigration
Left no false hopes with you and never lied
How the fine prince who you rescued
Though he may feel your love, and though you’ve tried
To let him know what he owes you
How he’ll praise what’s the least effort beside
With his eyes for his own people
Your telling eyes say with whom he’d abide
For there’s no true immigration
As the sea bore you, in tears you’d have died
If their salt water had let you
Drying in air they take you for a ride
For they can speak your own language
That of the kind heart you carry inside
   ~ Thanks Always Returns


Details | Epic | |

young American days


              
                   To be in a young America ~
           visions of a ship upcoming statue of Liberty
               the young lad holding tightly to his Mothers leg
             in all excitement of a new Land to call their own
      celebrations of apple pie and fireworks on the 4th of July 
          
             thoughts of the old Hollywood on screen 
                films without 3-D costing less then a dollar
        Greta , Monroe , Betty Davis eyes tantalizing blue glare
       The Wizard of Oz or books written by Steinbach, Capote, Mark Twain

             exciting new visions of creating new concepts 
                 before Capitalism bought all little ones to bigger
           songs came from the hills of Virginia to the black Mountains
               surfacing in Tennessee for all to hear and wish to see  

          The day when one travelled by car on the road travelled
             every town a story told , learning history we once shed blood 
         American Indian tears to the British man whom choose freedom of taxes
            Boston held a tea party , now wishing they threw out marmite instead
 
         The day when we knew our neighbors and bought homes with a paystub
             Everyone had a chance to make their own with pride , even through wars
        When Martin Luther King stood proudly as did President Lincoln for Freedom 
             How many streets have been named after the man whom had a dream ?

             When milk was delivered on doorsteps in Glass bottles 
                 Babies wanting the very first of the top being cream 
             leaving doors open , watching news with your family at 6pm
                cartoons were shut down and it was now grown up time 

                      Cereal being a cheap snack for after school 
                         school supplies costing twenty dollars 
                      Grandma school clothes shopping for fifty 
                   before the internet , cell phones , and text for hello ~

                         2 week Vacations not afraid to put up Camp 
                Christmas sold in December with the sentiment of Love not money
        a day when if one were sick , you could actually get penicillin without question 
         The Doctor treated everything calling it General Practice no fear of Malpractice 

               Never forgetting our Motor city  
                 Old Ford Trucks Chevrolets and Dodge
                  The city that brought Ottis Reding and Marvin Gaye 
               

                     What happened to us ?  Where did America Go ? 

                   

         
  


Details | Blank verse | |

Silly isn't it

It's silly isn't it?
That I could fall for you so easily
And you not give two shits?
You spoke your drunken words
And admitted to always loving me
It was the best thing I had ever heard. 
When we hung out soon after
And I left you with a kiss
I didn't think the feelings mattered.
But as we spent time apart
I realized it wasn't the same
You had won my heart.
I got drunk and spilled my words
And you said you still felt the same
I was happier than a bird.
We made plan after plan
You always fell through
I felt like a speck of sand.
You told me you were trying to get a girl
I smiled and bared the tears
I had hoped to be the girl.
You soon stopped replying
I started to break down
I was almost done trying.
But no not tonight
I got drunk and spilt more words
I hope I did what's right. 
I thought we were the perfect fit
I fell for you so hard
But, that's silly, isn't it?


Details | Bio | |

I AM A DREAMER, STILL A DREAMER

I am a dreamer
A dreamer to own a bicycle but never got one 
I am still a dreamer
I am a dreamer
A dreamer who wanted to play a set of small pieces of plastic toy-soldier
But I can’t afford to buy one 
But I got the hand-amputated one
I picked it up in a canal of mud

I am still a dreamer
I am a dreamer who loves to play “sigung” 
Because this is the only piece to play
And a toy that is easy for me to avail
I am still a dreamer

I am still a dreamer
I am a dreamer who wanted to have a car
But I got tank in my ancestor’s homeland
I am still a dreamer
I am a dreamer to finish a degree 
This is which everyone wanted to get a job
But I need to go abroad to be professional slave

I am still a dreamer
I am dreamer to own a shop for a bicycle 
For me to give gift to the one needs it
But cannot afford like to buy like me before
I am still a dreamer even without owning a bicycle before 
Until today I am still a dreamer

I only owned myself who was created by the mercy of God
That until today I am still a dreamer
I am a dreamer, and still a dreamer until today 
I am still a dreamer, Tausug dreamer 
That one day, as a dreamer my dream would become true!
Bow…!


Details | Rhyme | |

THE SEVEN DIVISIONS OF WOMANHOOD

To Shakespeare I give all due respect,
But the world must be a huge theater I suspect.
Woman’s the major player if not the star,
For she influences all with love from afar.
The main acts of her drama as one envisions,
Occur for my audience in seven divisions. 

First the helpless infant in her nurse’s arm,
Fresh from God’s hands smiling and warm.
Yet guiltless and untouched by worldly strife,
She is but a stranger to sin in this dawn of life.
In her pink crib she looks cute and pure,
With a smile on her lips so modestly demure.

Next as a tender young girl of school age,
With pigtails and grace she enters the stage.
An innocent young girl loving dolls and toys,
She has no taste for bruises, math or boys.
Her voice is like music whenever she speaks,
Explaining with emotion the desire she seeks.

In the sweet summer age she becomes a blossom,
And weathers the waves in the role of stardom.
Now she’s a young lady with a pure, creative mind,
Nursing dreams of a life moral and refined.
When put into the orbit of heart-consuming men,
Overcoming dying hope, her world she has to win.

As a wife she makes her home a true nirvana,
 Winning from the man she loves her merited honor.
 She is in hard times his source of consolation,
And in times of pleasure his joy and elation.
As a lover and a mate she continues to perform,
Keeping house and home through every storm.

Now for the most blessed age of female life,
She assumes the role of mother as well as wife.
Like God's miracle, the first is released with a hurl,
Then with tears and a scream from womb to world.
Before long baby laughs aloud and pleads for caress,
And mother love with playful smile grants the request.

Next the vestiges of youth appear a distant dream,
And spring's lovely buds now attest to her final esteem,
As she enters her mournful stage of the widow's woe,
Her glance upon her children falls as her eyes overflow.
She has lost all her young heart once fondly enjoyed,
And in the business of change of life she's fully employed.     

 With the final division, youth is now a faded flower,
 And she can bask in the coolness of the evening hour.
 As she enjoys the reflection of her progeny having fun,
 She is reminded that maternal pleasures are not yet done.
 She continues to impart knowledge necessary to sustain,
 As she guides their hopes to reach for the heavenly domain.



Details | Ballad | |

NO MAN STANDS ALONE - The Ballad of Barney Ross

CHORUS
No man stands alone
in the street, the ring or the combat zone
some lay in the gutter
some sit on a throne
but no man stands alone

At the age of fourteen 
he had a dream
to become a rabbi 
Chicago 1924
then his dad was killed by men
who tried to rob the family store
his brothers and sisters were sent away
to an orphanage where they would stay
and though his faith was blown away
he vowed to bring them home someday

To God and man revenge he swore
he walked with gamblers, 
hoods and whores
he fit right in 
then on a whim
he walked into a boxing gym
he fought Canzoneri in ‘33
for the lightweight title victory
he made up with God 
and finally
he could reclaim his family

Those McLarnon fights 
were the stuff of lore
the only man 
to ever put him on the floor
he won two out of three, 
then in the Armstrong bout
he nearly died 
but was never knocked out
then in 1941
the Japanese pulled a sneaky one
so he joined the marines 
and he got a gun
and he sailed into the rising sun

On Guadalcanal, 
he fought so brave
overmatched like old King Dave
he put twenty attackers 
in an early grave
for the one marine 
whose life he saved
in a hospital bed 
for months and days
they kept him in a morphine haze
then sent him home 
strung out and beat
to the pushers on the mean, mean street

Hollywood was very keen
to put his story on the silver screen
but they focused on the drug abuse
he tried to sue 
but what’s the use?
Barney Ross was brave and strong
they couldn’t keep him down for long
his rabbi said that he must try
to be a model Jew in the public eye

but from the public eye he slipped
like a phantom radar blip
they say he hunted Nazi criminals
and he ran some guns to Israel

Barney Ross was brave and strong
I thought that he deserved a song
he did some bad
he did some good
and he saved the world
the best he could


Details | Monoku | |

Alien-nation

One more alien... an extra terrestrial. Bloody foreigners.


Details | Free verse | |

Last Kiss

Open your eyes to the ever turning skies 
I want to here with me through the night 
My heart yearns into your soul 
Burning as if newly lit coal 
I bravely submerg the embers 
That the time I have can be spent with you 
And I remember each kiss every moment 
I was caught in your love that for just this day I remember 
So what happened was a chance for your love 
A time that I kept in a locket tied with a kiss 
 I wanted you to feel, to love, to slumber 
And to awake in my arms with that times kept bliss 
I lay silient in an umber


Details | Ballade | |

Success

Success

The other day I saw a man
He was an old, old man
He had this sparkle on his face
And a wondrous smile that ran
Right from his mouth up to his ears
He was a happy guy
And yet he had no home, no car
And soon in death he’ll lie.

I saw a man on the Television
His face all misery
He was a man who had so much
Such an important man he be
And yet his face was deathly grey
All life was drained from it
It seems that all his cobwebbed money
Has not helped him a bit.

I let you see the contrast here
So all you folk who hope
One day to be someone of means
I hope they will take note
Though money has a lot of value
It does not bring success
Cause in the end success must mean
A life of happiness.

1 September 2013 @ 0642hrs.





Details | Ballad | |

TO EVERY SOLDIER THAT THEIR IS

One of the happiest days,
Is  bringing our soldiers home alive,
To where they can be seen,
By their families once again,
To show them we love them,
And care about them,
In the ways we should,
Cause they gave up their time,
And their lives for this country,
For our freedoms we often take for granted,
To protect us from the domestic evils of today,
Whether we see them or not,
We should praise them all,
For all that they have done,
Including those who have fallen,
And can Not walk back through the gates of home,
For they have fallen and given more for this country,
And sacrificed more than we pay attention too,
To save us all for our freedoms,
Which our country will often forget,
With time the fallen one's,
Because we often pay attention to those,
Who are here in front of us and can fight,
One day at a time,
Which is the wrong way to be,
Cause all soldiers are made the same,
And should never be forgotten in anyway,
Day after day cause we have what we have,
To remind us all of all who have sacrificed their lives,
For the freedoms we have to keep us safe,
Each and everyday!


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 | Lyric | |

Smoke in the distance

Smoke in the distance

I saw it in the distance
The air was filled with smoke
A bush fire, it was raging
Oh, lord this was no joke
For I was heading homeward
It was starting to look bad
For my house was up yonder
The fear it drove me mad.

I've seen so many fires
I know what they can do
I nearly lost my home before
It's bad, I'm telling you
The fear was getting stronger
My imaginations, wild
I felt my body trembling
As I panicked like a child.

The thick black smoke was rising
I drove the car like mad
My house might be on fire
Oh, it was looking bad.

As I reached my destination
My fears did melt to nil
I'll remember that grand feeling
I guess I always will
My house it was still standing
That fire had passed on through
Oh lord it felt so wonderful
I don't mind I'm telling you.

14 October 2013 @ 0755hrs.
Peter Duggan, for groove it contest in Country and Western mode
Sorry, the best I can do.


Details | Rhyme | |

FOREVERMORE

When I hear your name
My heart beats faster than usual
It's not that I am ashame
But It's just your name is too special..

Can't control the feelings
When I am with you
Can't stop smiling
When you hold me like you do

When you hug me then
I feel like I'm in heaven
You are a blessing from above
And you are the reason why I loved

I'll promise to love you FOREVERMORE..
And I will cherish you until the end of my borrowed life
And I will keep our precious memories as long as
we see each other in our next life..


Details | Rhyme | |

The Puzzle

I don't have all the pieces together;
This puzzle is just too much,
But God already has it figured out
As He is solving this from above.


Details | Free verse | |

My Future Generation

I can act insane
But DO NOT 
Make me feel worthless

I belong in God’s family
He will bless my future generation

Don’t punish me for
Being myself –
Don’t envy my glee 

I can act like an
Adult, but I’d 
Prefer to have joy…

Not stress…
That piles upon us in our 
Everyday lives

Being childlike is

A rare beauty – 

No one prizes it…

No one came across it…

In this lifetime…

I can laugh all day
I can make you smile
If you’d accept my 
Childlike dreams of mine
Don’t treat me like a sick swine

Renew my young heart
Give me the ability 
To kill the old man…

I have my place in God’s family
He’ll be adored and glorified 
We’ll exchange prayers and hugs  
By my future generation

I beg of you – 
Don’t kill my childlike mentality
I’ll behave myself…
I’m positively sure that I’ll make you happy

I’ll still have pieces of a child in me

And pass it on to my future generation…


Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Distillery I rented from John Stienbachs ghost

                    It was a moment in time 
                  a fate of inspiration gifted 
            I believe I was lifted a destiny in writing 
                I would vibrantly pursue .
             Renting a cottage once in Monterey Bay
           this cottage special in some way
          
            The very minute moving.. I felt a presence 
                      giving me no serenity , no rest 
                            feeling I were a quest ~

                 After desiring this home so                            
                      telling the Realtor ~ I made a mistake     
                     She told me be calm ~
                        many have said this before you 
                               ~ this haunt was not a new 

                  For once lived a Writer ~well respected Gent
               His cottage a distillery during the time of prohibition.

                  Many Gents and Ladies came to this cottage 
                      unlawfully gamble & drink through the night
                    Who would think , Doc Ricketts in Cane & Hat
                               it was a party by moon light  ~
                      
                              In the back a distillery hidden in a old shed
                                    many Alcoholics were fed ~
 
                         The ghost popular quite the Ladies man ~
                                I was honored while feeling displaced  

                                 For those who have not read my poems 
                                    ~   and this may be new. 
                                          This really happened ~
                      The ghost of John Steinbach rented me his home True
                                   
 

                  Yvette & The ghost of John Steinbach's  , Teamwork  9/14/2013 
    


Details | Quatrain | |

Choices To Face

I have some choices to face,
But these are not my decisions to make.
God told me what He wants me to do;
He said, "Listen, Son, I have a plan for you."


Details | Quatrain | |

Never Erased

Eternal faith;
Love in His name.
Saved by grace;
Never erased.


Details | Quatrain | |

Enjoy This Place

Follow your dreams and follow your heart;
God has shown you the path to start.
Never give up and always have faith;
Do what you love and enjoy this place!


Details | Rhyme | |

Your Gorgeous Life

You wake me up with Your endless light
So beautiful in shining, so bold, so bright!
You paint the landscapes and let Your love shine
For the whole world to see, to feel Your gorgeous life!


Details | Free verse | |

The River home

It was a home on the river we lived .
It was the ghost of a young man whom had taken his own life.

I still remember the vision of him walking by me with a blank stare 
We,  as a Family of  seven , moved into this river house 
Panoramic views right out to the river , I should mention

I was home alone as a child , looking out at "The Julia Belle Swan " as she went by .
Upstairs in that room as I saw a figure walking by , with very nice features , auburn hair 
I thought he was my older brother , a handsome young guy 

Then I realized the young man was not my brother , a  apparition he appeared .
He was not there to scare or frighten , 
the message I believe he wanted to shed light on, so clear.

He walked right by ,then disappeared through the window, out to the River .

The Ghost knew I could see him , a gift I have been given
when I was a younger child of five , I had once died for a short time. I was lifted by Jesus in Heaven . Death is not for us to decide .

Later in the years we moved from that home , every home we lived in had a story 
or a presence of its own . My Mother had told me later , a young man took his life there .

 Keep fighting your way through life and its despair , 
you are important to someone whom cares .  If you feel alone and want life to end , Please pick up the phone , call anyone ,  call for help , call a Friend .

"This is not fiction , it truly is a gift I have been given "