Best Homesick Poems
Love is the water of life. Drink it down with heart and soul. - Rumi
I remember the nights I swiftly swerved oceanic songs with olive shells on sandy shores,
looking for a hint of teal droplets within softened
corners of the milky way.
Perhaps the mulberry moon felt our soulful dreams,
as cerulean sky sighed a thousand stars in celestial symphony for “you” and “I”.
Tonight pearlescent heavens shall heed my beating veins erupting in amethyst abundance,
for I’ve been homesick for a selfless heart that I can belong;
pining to rest my dahlia desires upon the silver aisle of your warm chest,
to hear the rhythm of my name echoing through poetic petals of your lyrical lips.
So pardon the thousand horizons that keep us apart,
we sync and swirl to the same roseate ripples~
within the opulent bed of bioluminescence.
I find our orchid visions amongst cornflower clouds I can nearly touch,
trusting the seraphic light we wear, locked in this empyrean embrace,
and we’ll conquer every mighty meteor,
striving to paint this tuscan tale into reality,
while love is all that we sow and lean on,
forever enclasped in an eternal endearment.
.
I want to be alone where skylarks sing
Where primroses grow wild and bluebells ring
Where sweet the fragrant scent of Mountain thyme
Back in the glen that once was yours and mine
I’m wistful for the sights, the sounds, the smells
The purple evening sheen of heather bells
I miss the gloaming’s hazy mellow light
As summer’s day fades slowly into night
My heart tells me, I’m lost, I must return
To see my highland home, my woodland burn
Refresh, and set my captive spirit free
Among the hills forever calling me
This lonely pain is razor sharp and strong
Tomorrow I go back where I belong.
.
When memories melt like sunset skies,
mirroring my thoughts,
slipping into the salt-dipped
skin of the deep, warm ocean,
I drink from the stardust chalice
of your unspoken sonnets,
r a i n i n g from cologne-stained clouds,
steeping me in aromatic cravings ~
as my heart weaves
love from Juliet’s jewels
within the aching sighs
of mauve moonlight.
And here I dream within
your spider-silk cradle ~
cresting in this chrysalis heart,
drawing butterflies above mulberry trees,
an illusion etched between lifelines.
For in my h o m e s i c k quiescence,
I wear you ~
my magnetic miracle,
twin flame that never dims,
the constellation sparkling above…
So take me where love knows no more~
you and I will forever breathe poetry,
tercets written beneath
the cobalt blue horizon
where eagle feathers soar ~
caressing the inner demons
that grieve in sunflower silence.
As it is through the kohl iris
of your russet romance
I’ve learned the language of loyalty ~
untangling knots of woes
that braided my sunrise mane
into a murky maze of madness,
sprouting mismatched metaphors…
Tonight I shall dwell in the amethyst afterglow
of your dahlia devotion,
illuminated by the aesthetic
k i s s
of kismet roses…
The hymns of my youth have become a faint sound,
like a train in the distance lost to the night.
This road that I'm on is not homeward bound,
for I have left the path that leads to the right.
I hope my mother will remember my face
and father will forgive all my sins.
As I lay near death in this far away place,
this troubled journey will soon come to an end.
The place where I'm from has it's own charm,
with the smell of wildflowers on the soft summer air.
Rusty tin roofs and broken down barns,
roads lined with fence posts, I'm almost there.
Not much has changed since I've been gone,
I never dreamed Heaven would look like home.
5/8/19
Sycamores certainly speak French, cypresses - ancient Greek, the Old Testament's olives are bilingual: they speak Hebrew and Aramaic. Birch is a Russian tree though growing in Canada. So small and frail (they wither abroad), already gone into a winter trance, she is silent but she is silent à la russe. That's how silent bears in dens are, that's how drunkards listen to the voice of the devils dissolved in their blood, that's how old believers pray, that's how a poet meditates on his faraway homeland and, finally, that's how silent my girlfriend was, accompanying me to the airport. What are we doing here, you and me, between fall and winter, at the crossroad of four Canadian corners?
a hush of partings
of pursed lips and lonely hearts…
we should go home birch
10.12.2019
December Or January Haibun Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
A child is born
a little life it's a miracle
Death is nothing to fear
but feels like
autumn leaves on cold snow
Brothers
is not
like night and day
or
the sun and the moon
They are seeds from
life and love
Sisters
is like
flowers
with different fragrance
and color
But they have the roots
from the same garden
Family
several generations
their lives together
complicated
or uncomplicated
Grandmother's garden ...
with homesickness
Life reflects
and caught the light,
radiance and hope
in old memories
22.11.2018
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
There's this girl that I know who misses her home
The place filled with laughter, her joy, and her hope.
This girl, she is sad, and I've seen her heart break.
She just doesn't belong here, and she doesn't want to stay.
When she's at the beach she just sits and she stares
Across the water to who knows where.
The ocean is the one place she has found on this Earth
That fills her with any kind of peace and hope.
Though still she is sad, she's not where she belongs,
But at least at the ocean the fierce homesickness calms.
She'll walk down the beach and look out at the water,
Totally uncaring of those who might watch her.
She knows she's not normal, that she isn't like them.
But she knows that they cold never understand.
This girl that I speak of, how I know her well. Yet at the same time I hardly know her at all.
It seems to me as I walk down that beach that
I'm never gonna know of who I truly speak.
Because as long as I'm here, so far from my home, my heart, my pain there, my hope,
I am only half here.
I am only half home.
And all that I want....I just want to go home.
I’m homesick for places I haven’t yet been
Places unpronounceable are calling my name
My eyes crave the beauty of sights I have not seen
A fire I can’t see warms me with its flame
My feet walk the same path when I leave and come back
And my ears get tired of the same boring tune
Where once there was nothing I’ve worn down a track
Where street lights are so bright I can’t see the moon
I’m homesick for places away from my own
Places that make my heart feel alive
Where the people are friendly and my name is not known
Places that give me the change to thrive
You can tell my I’m crazy but I’ll never forget,
I’m homesick for places I haven’t been yet
From the Faughan river valley
To Binevenaghs mighty brow
I love these roads to travel
Wish I could tread them now
To in an instant be propelled
Landing on that grassy slope
That overlooks Magilligan strand
Would be my greatest hope
To take the road to Donnybrewer
And walk down by the Foyle
To see the fields of Kerrs Pinks
Where my father used to toil
To listen to the Corncrake call
As it hides in the long hay
How many happy times were spent
Trying to glimpse her on my way
When you’ve walked up Kilnappy brae
You’ll hear your legs complain
Saying don’t you ever try to
Bring us up this way again
The walking up can wear us out
But when we turn around
The view that lays before us
Will never fail to us astound
The beauty of the patchwork quilt
Of fields enclosed with stone
The distant hills of Donegal
That was my parents’ home
I miss not just the countryside
My family I miss dear
Many times I’ve spent just wishing
I was there or they were here
She noticed a wild beauty of her own-rain.
She lived in Michigan
Blue rain kissed the green trees
But only one tree made her heart sing
A storm was coming in the distance
A hurricane of peace forced her to dream big dreams
As the night of regret fades
The bear, the berry, the rain, the wild
All beautifully crafted
these new sculptors of art
Proper artists without knives
So she sang of ol’ Michigan’s nature to gray skies.
but this rainstorm was a storm of all storms. she cried, she wept, and then she fainted
Michigan’s nature lived in her
HOMESICK EXCUSES
So sorry…..
I can’t spend the night--
Would give my daddy jitter fright.
My mother would not sleep at all,
If I don’t kill bugs as they crawl.
If I ‘m not there to scrub the sink,
Neither one would sleep a wink.
I can’t spend the night---
Nightmares will chase them left to right.
If I don’t stay with mom and dad,
Who’ll keep my dog from getting sad?
I can’t spend the night.
I would like to,
But isn’t right.
Must tuck my daddy safe in bed,
Listen to the prayers he’s said.
Kiss my mother on her face--
So she knows I’m in my place.
I would love to stay with you,
But my parents need me too!
The whispering winds
Weeping melancholy tears
That homesick feeling
Dan's on the mezzanine
asking where the mayor lives
I'm on the dole line,
wondrin bout conservatives
The man with the leg cramps
boot camps wheel clamps
says they cut his food stamps.
Look out son,
he’s packin a gun:
God knows why
Pat Boone, full moon
someone's gonna die soon.
Del's on welfare,
Donald Trump is real pissed:
give 'em all health care?
What are we? Socialists?
Thinks I'm Harry Lime:
street crime, sub-prime,
now you're working part-time.
Look out boy,
you're only a goy:
don't revere teachers,
don't obey no preachers.
Jen's on Fox News
talkin bout the bank crash
wanna get some real views?
What about the trailer trash?
Read about Goldilocks
Botox bobbysocks
modelled by Amanda Knox.
Look out, Joe,
you're spoiling the show.
Don't watch features,
don't dance in the bleachers.
Get hired, get fired,
get rich, get stitched,
get tired, get wired,
get hitched, get ditched.
They got the cops at backstop,
Al Gore keeping score
'tween the Poors
and Dirt-Poors,
'tween the Haves
and Have-Mores.
John Wayne's vanished.
He's off to learn Spanish.
Refugee
I caught myself, my bad side. in the mirror
Of someone else’s face. I stopped mocking
No longer thinking it funny and placed my
Feet in the shoes they had to wear.
In my cynical mind it was a comedy
In theirs a moment of indecision, worry.
Go home to a war zone or stay here in safety, no brainer.
But here is not home.
They left: three-day journey by car. Dangerous in itself.
An escape made three months before, as missiles rained
And debris crashed around them. Scrambled essentials
Into a case, picked up the cat, dropped off spare keys.
But there’s nowhere like home compared to the life
Of a refugee.
Easy looking in, do the right thing as if a robot.
Joke about stupidity, as you see it. Life is a tragedy
And I can’t imagine what I’d do if I were a refugee.
David Cox 19/08/22
I use to believe in love.
If I loved a person deeply enough,
if I put my all into them,
sacrificed every inch just to bring them happiness -
Perhaps, I would one day wake up and find, they loved me the same.
Where the steadiness of their breath relied on your smile,
their touch could make you shatter into a billion shimmering stars,
and they would die -
if it would only bring your happiness.
The sort of love that was unrelenting,
unconditional and solely intended - for you.
I loved someone like that,
day in and day out,
my eyes focused on their beauty like flawless crystal fractals,
my heart in pause awaiting to hear those words,
To send it skittering off like shooting stars across the empty sky,
my lungs froze in their movements,
So long I hadn't even realized I was holding my breath.
I use to believe in a love like that.
Time, has shown me that believing in miracles is for the fool hearty and love struck,
and that if you give someone your all,
you will be left penniless and homesick for a heart that does not exist.