New Home Poems | Examples
These New Home poems are examples of Home poems about New. These are the best examples of Home New poems written by international poets.
You see it in the store
And it looks like it will fit.
You really can’t be sure,
So you doubt yourself a bit.
You pay and drag it home
And you set it in its place
Hoping, kind of like a poem,
It will find a warm embrace.
You step back and you assess
And decide that it should stay.
It’s not perfect, but, you guess,
Nothing’s perfect anyway.
Now, if only this applied
To the purchase of a couch.
Somehow, I just can’t decide
And to this, my spouse will vouch.
Safe within these four walls
My new apartment is swell
But, what's that noise next door?
Is that my neighbors doorbell?
I'm attracting nosey eyes
When company comes over
We have to speak in whispers
Or wake up their dog "Grover"
Neighborhood ears await
Even when I take a "Whiz!"
Crepe Paper Apartments
Everyone knows your "Biz!"
I’m from Kansas. My name is Dorothy Gale.
I could weave for you a fantastic tale
about farmhands, a twister, and a floating abode;
flying monkeys, little people, and a yellow brick road;
a wizard and witches and old, yet new, friends;
ruby slippers, little Toto, and how the magic all ends
when the needy at last see they’ve had all along
what they thought they were lacking and then became strong.
I could tell how the clicking of heels took me home,
for there’s no place like home. I have no need to roam.
But instead of creating a long narrative,
I’ll just say from my heart how much I love to live
on a farm here in Kansas with people who care.
The great lesson I’ve learned, I am happy to share:
a trip over the rainbow was not what I needed.
A hard bump on the head led to wisdom I heeded.
When I came to--surrounded by those I love best,
I at last realized I am gloriously blessed.
The memories of ties that bind
Are rooted deep within the mind
Though we might wish for something new
Down in the heart we know it’s true
We travel so long and so far
Here we can be just who we are
Step by step we’re all moving down the road
Take me home…. Take me home…
In our lives we all need the space to grow
But all roads lead you home.
Can you recall? I’ll bet you can
Although you may not understand
For memories pass slowly on
But in our hearts are never gone
We travel so long and so far
Here we can be just who we are
Someday, somehow, some way…
A sight, a scent, a song,
Will take you back to yesterday
Lead you home, where you belong.
Step by step we’re all moving down the road
Take me home…. Take me home…
In our lives we all need the space to grow
But all roads lead you home.
Idyllic
Hudson Valley, New York …Lord of Rings’ shire.
A vineyard, filled with rich and famous names.
I’m pleased to be impressed by the artists,
as they surrender idyllic charm with paint.
Emerald green; delicious apple bites,
wind chimes through the pines, mountains of Catskill.
The headless horseman of Sleepy Hollow -
to drink, deep, the forests of Van Winkle.
Freedom fostered in cobblestone and -kills.
Small town parades, fireworks at Vanderbilt’s.
I'm that house who has been on the block for years
Who have seen many parties and lots of tears
I'm hearing rumors that I might be put up for sell
Different types of notices coming in through the mail
If only I can make the decision or be given an option
I don't want people fighting over me at an auction
I'm getting too old and my paint is starting to peel
By looking at me you can only imagine how I feel
Broken cupboards, run down sinks and crooked tile
There's hardly anyone who looks at me with a smile
Who could possibly want me when I'm so run down
You can't open a door without a screeching sound
True I do have a big yard but my grass isn't green
I also have the biggest bedrooms you've ever seen
There are good things about me that's still the same
My roof is still strong and doesn't leak when it rains
Screws and a new paint job would give me that shine
Give it some thought before signing that dotted line
When the night is soft and shadows sigh,
I gather pieces of who I've been,
Underneath a silver-breathing sky—
The broken heart, the fractured skin.
I’ve worn the weight of wordless ache,
A cloak of silence stitched by stars,
Still I rise, though pathways break,
Barefoot tracing memory’s scars.
The moon bends low with lantern light,
A silent guide for those who roam,
It whispers softly through the night:
You are not lost. You’re simply home.
Though darkness clings and sorrow hums,
A quiet bloom of hope appears,
It roots itself where heartbreak drums,
A fragile pulse beyond the tears.
I am not whole, yet still I move,
Each step a tender, whispered prayer,
A testament that I’ll improve—
That dawn awaits beyond despair.
The dawn, she paints with golden breath,
A canvas born from darkest hue,
Reminding me that even death
Can birth beginnings, fresh and new.
So softly now, I rise again,
With hands reborn from ash and dust,
A heart once marred begins to mend—
In morning’s light, in quiet trust.
When to replace something
Which will expire
Is a question all homeowners face.
Is it better to wait
‘Til a problem comes up
In the item you need to replace…
Or perhaps it makes sense,
When that item is old,
To just ditch it and buy something new.
If it works but you’ve had it
A really long time, then
You know what’s the right thing to do.
It’s a gamble to hope that
Your item will last
For if suddenly, it starts to break,
You must deal with the consequence
And chalk it up
To a classic homeowner’s mistake.
I took my new friend from Mars,
to the store not to the bars.
He was accompanied by his little green dog,
many thought he was a funny looking frog.
They messed their little green suits,
so no more fresh fruits.
A diaper they will need,
so they can go home and be freed.
(“Honeybee on Apple Blossom”, 2020, original pen and ink)
Homing Bees
Up before dawn
To bring home the bees,
Last evening’s swarm
So full and feisty,
And nestled in
Their new hive
They seem contented
Distracted and without concern
That in the end
They have only
Travelled a few feet
From their old home.
(7/3/25)
The cold is leaving the air
And the smell of the grass is sneaking in.
The train is bringing me home,
The home where I was the reckoning.
My body shivers in the summer while remembering,
Remembering how the other me was acting.
The lowest part of my soul is gravitating
In the cafés, passages, and places,
Without fear, shame, nor guilt,
Screaming: here I am — have you thought of changing?
I respond with anger: I have, have you?
And she said: why change when you know what's coming?
The duality of my selves keep rhyming,
And the place where once was home is shifting.
Did I leave that façade in this city?
Did I come back new and with eyes of pity?
Trying to fit in the mold of desperation,
Knowing deep down my true consolation is just building a new foundation.
As I stand on the rocky shore of the bay
I look over to the distant bank
Not to look back in want
But to look back in remembrance
Of what I had left behind
To remind myself
of how far God has brought me.
I turn to look toward the future
With great expectations
I move with new hope and vigor
To what is to come.
I stand with a smile
Across my face
And a new song in my heart
Because my God is leading me to my home
In a land beyond anything I could have ever
Imagined
And my journey is almost over.
I smile because I can now see
The bright light of my home waiting for me
And hear the music of celebrations
Welcoming not just me but all those that have traveled
These long hard roads and overcame the struggles
To arms opened wide and kisses of loved ones that have
Gone on before us.
HOME
The feeling of letting go...
Letting go of what became the new norm
Letting go of my recent familiarities
Letting go of work which I live for at the moment
Letting go of control of what I seem to feel I have under control
Letting go of that comforting feeling of friends being in the surrounds...
Then I come to the realization I need to breath...
I now need to let go of my anxiety
I now need to let go of my control
I now need to release what's holding me back
I am welcoming my life I have
My wife and children awaiting me in anticipation
The fresh air and beauty of nature.
Loitering around at the expense
of my parents back,
I too wish to be at the resemblance
of hardworking thumbs,
those same fingers that sewed
the futile grounds back home,
my mother’s yuca farm,
my father's dying crops,
dance taking their final
waltz with the tumble-
weeds in direction
where my ancestors
sleep while their bones
continue
to prosper,
their voices evoke
within the breeze
that had asked
for generational appeal
to the heavens that took
their last breath,
“My body crisp
at the sight of the sun,
my mind wavers as my heart
knows endless
bounties of weeds,
twisting,
turning,
suffocating,
all of life beneath
our breaths,
Yet The Night is upon us,
offering eternal rest as
mercy has finally reached
it's limits, a new vision
begins alongside
the Golden
thread of Youth,
a soul that marked
a beginning and now
an end.”
All that's left withered
away as each ancestor
departs,
my parents left their grounds,
the vibrancy of life dried
up leaving no generations
behind,
My Youth became
their bodies and my life
framed forever in each
era of my ancestors.
I saw a groundhog waddle out
From underneath the shed.
I guess that is the place he’s chosen
Where to lay his head.
I’m not too thrilled that he is there,
Though he won’t bother me.
When we are in the country,
That’s the way that things might be.
One year we had a mama fox
With kits who romped and played.
As entertaining as they were,
Of them I was afraid.
Still, these are things I do not see
When in my New York space.
I’m glad there are two lifestyles
That I’m able to embrace.