Homewards Poems | Examples

Homewards Bound

HOME
Home be it where your heart is at peace
Rather than a fixed position on a map
Home is where your heart finds its joy
Rather than an ideation of a house
Rather than thoughts of brick on mortar
Rather than thoughts of a smug family
Home is where you are contented in spirit
Rather than the constant missing I do feel
Home I will make it where my body abodes
Home my heart yearns for, Am a Sojourner 


#MusingsOfLuis_Code254

Weekend Memory

Late 1940s England

the square
   was packed
& the high street full
meat&veg seemed plentiful

market barkers
  drew the queues
with jokes
         impromptu

shoppers filed
     neat& formal
in sainsburys greggs
  & home colonial

the bacon slicer
  shuttled back& forth
rashers scaled
 in halves&fourths

bread mealed smooth&strong
   butter patted shaped oblong
cheese cut with twangy wire
 toasted later on an open fire

ham sliced from the bone
 spuds bagged    weighed in stones
tea from open square tins
 packet-served with a welcome grin

'woollies' snackbar smells
  'elevenses'  hunger time to quell
one mug of ovaltine must'nt dally
so shortcut thru' market alley

where auctioneers tones rise&fall
 above the sheep&cattle stalls
  then off homewards at a trot
 last pennies spent in feaseys   sweetshop

on the train bridge 'spotted' numbers new
waited    whilst the 'cutler' raced thru'
 along pebble brook   time to climb a tree
    on this day  shopping was made coupon-free

When

Wednesday, it was; Nineteenth, exactly if I must mention
Housewives, feeding kids and pets, were getting true tension
Eastward sky grew grey; impulsively, cattle rushed homewards 
Nightingales, to sing of true love, tuned their trachea chords

Welcoming the moon and the stars on their valorous way
Habitats did bid goodbye to the scorching sunny day
Ethereal exuberance enhanced each environs 
Naughty nocturnal nonpareils of April blow sirens

Wet with drizzles, weary winds wiped their whiskers on cool cloud
Howls of dogs, foxes, wolves, apes, and coyotes were heard aloud 
Endless Rest promised the noxious sting of death has gone numb,
Nullifying negations, nature, notations new did hum


23 April 2023

My Four Best Friends

Did you ever miss me dearly,
When you moved away?
I used to feel as if you weren’t worthy,
But in reality you are one of best friends for me.

Did you ever wonder how else it’d be,
When you had a new best friend other than me?
I used to feel as if I drowned in secret jealousy,
But in reality you are still whom I cherished.

Did you ever reflect on the past,
When you were returning homewards?
I used to feel as if you were boring,
But in reality you are another of my good friends.

Did you ever consider not changing your façade,
When I left to go home for the holidays?
I used to feel as if the sorrow in me was building,
But in reality you are someone I was fated to meet.

Did you, my friends, ever feel lonely?
When I think of it all in a way,
I’m used to letting life have its way at my feelings,
But in reality you’re all important to me!

Market Day

the square
   was packed
& the high street full
meat&veg seemed plentiful

market barkers
  drew the queues
with jokes
         impromptu

shoppers filed
     neat& formal
in sainsburys greggs
  & home colonial

the bacon slicer
  shuttled back& forth
rashers scaled
 in halves&fourths

bread mealed smooth&strong
   butter patted shaped oblong
cheese cut with twangy wire
 toasted later on an open fire

ham sliced from the bone
 spuds bagged    weighed in stones
tea from open square tins
 packet-served with a welcome grin

'woollies' snackbar smells
  'elevenses'  hunger time to quell
one mug of ovaltine must'nt dally
so shortcut thru' market alley

where auctioneers tones rise&fall
 above the sheep&cattle stalls
  then off homewards at a trot
 last pennies spent in feaseys   sweetshop

on the train bridge 'spotted' numbers new
waited    whilst the 'cutler' raced thru'
 along pebble brook   time to climb a tree
    on this day  shopping was made coupon-free

The Works That Take You Home

The shaman speaks of plants to see,
other cosmic dimensions energy.
The Zulu’s stamp dance the ground,
working the earth to a drumming sound.
Smokes from many ashes taken in breath,
medicine pipe presenting the living death.
Monks in high altitude poring colored sand,
a new wheel of time mandala grand.
The Sufi in a poetic conclusion rhyme,
reasons to everything - in its perfect time.
The Runes of Nordic legacies,
and its roots of testing integrities. 
The Sangoma takes one to the very edge,
and something closer to the truth is wedged.
Distilled elixir from the Alchemist to turn,
working matter and spirit discern. 
Wind carries it in its womb,
natures nursing care and thereof bloom.
Akasha's force due cosmic balance act,
shadows of inner reality fact.
The love that manifests as tolerance,
heals wounds of hearts in forgiveness.
Scriptures of kindled souls and its struggles,
when quickening the heart by dominance.
Pondering prayers and golden fine thread lining,
homewards all souls in absolute defining.

A Life of Sailing Abc

A life of sailing journeys
Beckons to embrace
Catching the wind in the sails
Dealbation heaven opening to the cloud full sky.
Early morning radiant sunrise, 
Filling everyone with spiritual pride. Being
Guiding into the horizon all the way out to sea
High tide and off with a full moon navigating by the stars
Idealizing the sea and smell and feel, the tease of cool breeze.
Just pull the sails up and fill them with wind. 
Knowledge of skillful sailing assures a safe voyage. Having
Limitless freedom out in the ocean 
Minds forget the terror of being forever lost at sea
Newfound enthusiasm   sighting shore will 
Oblige thoughts comfort in difficult times.
Passing of so many days and nights,
Quiet twilight nights lulls-tired bodies to sleep. The
Recovering   crew continues to work as
Squalling seagulls swoop from azure sky
Trailing behind the up and down floating sail. Homewards bound
Under the right conditions if the tides and wind permit.  
Voyage takes the route back home with fond memory  
Worlds apart are distant lands
Xenophilia for the unknown 
Yearning, passion search for
Zealous admiration for the sea


5/6/2020

At Some Such Appointed Hour

Deeply immersed in dispassionate thought,                
  Of that moment which comes but once amidst            
 The whirling storm, daring Hannibal fixed             
His eagle eye upon the chance and caught                
   The glory old Gods didst offer unto him;             
 He who kept his head whilst all others failed         
Has known that instant demand from within:-    
  Fury borrows frenzy as needs avails.    
 Should all men, at some such appointed hour,           
Find themselves at their own fast closing                        
    Gate,                                               
   Then bravely toss the dice and chance                         
     With fate...                                     
 For what worth mere chance if not empowered?          
Better die as Hector dragged by the heels --          
   To be borne back homewards laid on 
 Your shield!

Summersoliliquy Renku Tribute Pt2

pt 2 of quaternion

sweltering
     the unpaved streets
intolerably stifling
everyone
       seeking cool air
sitting
    enjoying the resite
from
   the unusual heat
the past
       called to mind
         the inconvenience
         the fear
                to venture out
any capricious 
           movement 
                stifled
sucking breath
        and perspiration
               in torrents
tottering about
        clothes fluttering
homewards making
under  a clear sky
completing responsibilities
in the dry
           desolate
              landscape
till
    it runs with rain
no one lives
            in the house
abandoned
        to seek the shade
until
      the late evening
                            hours
this season
      of long days
            humid  nights
the advanced in age
apt
    to fall asleep
with
reflections
     of an idle hour

Ode of Famine

A prosy prose for deity to mourn,
As the hunger stricken wobbles  the ground.
Oh! the old retinues that feed besides our ribs.
Come again with their unbearable tax payers,
While the labourers' stomach rumble!
The ignorant chieftains stare from above,
While the Kwashiorkor kids parade the streets!

Farmers clank their basket and hoe,
For nothing to bring homewards when the farms never yield.
As the hard labour tastes no fruit,
Wife and daughter, are forever famished. 
The sailor that despoil us,
Snatch the bouquet of our feast.
As we wallow in our hollow labour?

Leaving us despondent at the edge of the farm,
Oh! We are made for you to drain,
When the basket of yam fully stored in there yard.
The old retinues release starvation from its dungeon,
As hunger flay around street, whipping!.

The rise of commodities in the Bazar,
A loaf is bought at high price.
And the grain is untouchable!
This is a prosy prose for deity to mourn,
How housewives turn to modern  beggars,
While the toddlers sleep with void bellies and empty jars!

Journeys of Nostalgia

a flight
from self
         analysis
a voyage
    from isolation
homewards
riding
           on
           daydreams:
an interlude
of
fuility
        into
        candid
        dreams

Memories

Memories 

White mist on a mountain, 
grey mist on the sea. 
Vapours of the time-mist 
are the men I long to see. 
Just the knowing of them 
made a better man of me. 

Spring is in my song today, 
fields beside the sea. 
Robin, from the tractor, 
waves a hand at me. 
Gulls, churning like a sea-wake, 
follow on the plough.
Donald, trudging homewards, 
after milking of the cow. 

Peter, in the neap field, 
leans upon the hoe, 
dreaming of a girl he loved 
many years ago. 
Geordie’s in the seiner, 
butting up the bay, 
heading for the haddie grounds 
over Orkney way. 

Summer feeds the fields of hay 
moist winds from the west. 
God is in a summer day, 
men and land are blessed. 
Comes along a bonnie lass, 
children at her knee, 
breathing nectar in the glass, 
giving love to me.

A Walk In the Park

I smell the freshness in the airy
As we walk in the afternoon light
The sun in its full glare
Reveals pretty birds in full flight
Flowers brighten up the day
Squirrels dart across our path
Streams sing sweet songs and sway
Gently guided by the wind’s wrath
Wishing to the heavens for
The day never to come to an end
Mother Nature’s only flaw – 
Father Time – causes our desire to bend
Homewards we went without will
Hating to leave Heaven on Earth
For the harsh realities of steel
A house with no fire in its hearth

Haiku Moment 1

Evening descends
Running track overture;
Brisk walk abstract

~~~~~~~~~


Late night commute
Transit trains empty;
Small talk echoes

~~~~~~~~~


Brisk walk homewards
Wind follows footsteps;
Seeking company

~~~~~~~~~


Supper for dinner
Cold dishes now;
Busy delay

~~~~~~~~~


Old lady struggles
Bad knee joints;
Painful walk

~~~~~~~~~


Moonlight aura
Mystic blue streams;
Lovers serenade

~~~~~~~~~


Rainy weather
Indoor activity;
TV interlude

~~~~~~~~~


Afternoon siesta
Puzzling dream time;
Abrupt awakening

~~~~~~~~~


Britain opts exit
European Union crisis;
Latest news flash

~~~~~~~~~


Choices made
Winners and losers;
Consequences attend

~~~~~~~~~


Be quick now
Let grief be brief;
Exclusion clause

~~~~~~~~~




Leon Enriquez
26 June 2016
Singapore

Moon

Moon view through bamboo pines,
Mystic magic aura;
Blue glow in brief grapevine,
Silence weaves through flora.


Late evening I stroll,
By this parkway alone;
Straying thoughts drift and roll,
Cold wind chills my old bones.


The world of work needs rest,
For mortal humans here;
I stroll by to digest,
To observe far and near.


Crickets in the shrubs sing,
Strange cacophony loud;
Moon speaks as silence flings,
Sentimental and proud.


Crystals streams of moon glow,
I spy the heavens vast;
Discern a vivid show,
Then turn homewards at last.




Leon Enriquez
25 May 2016
Singapore

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