Long Home is where the heart is Poems
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Snow-capped Alps with snow-flowers
have crowned her for millions of years;
foreign armies oppressed her for centuries,
but her children fought them,
with swords and bravery to expel them
and reclaim their right of free citizens!
On this beautiful sea-washed land
rose a powerful city which governed an empire stretching
from England to North Africa
and from Spain to Syria; my forefathers never went to Ireland,
or had intentions go beyond the Rhine into Russia,
where the Huns didn't seem a threat to anyone happily living!
Art flourished in every region: from North to South;
the builder, the sculptor and the painter
gave their passionate souls to embellish her
with churches, cathedrals and monuments
that today the masses admire a lot...
has anyone had these moments?
By now you must have a hint
of which country I'm telling you about:
it is my magnificent Italy...
that boot-shaped country!
I’m longing for a place that I belong
This need for comfort is constant and strong
They say that home is where the heart is and that’s where I want to be
With all the falling leaves beneath the apple tree
I want to roll around in the leaf piles and breathe in the fall air
This place that I am stuck in could never quite compare
I need to be where I am loved to the moon and back
I miss going home to an “I love you” and an afternoon snack
I try to find the feeling that I so long for
I have never felt this type of yearning down my core
Please just give me some chilly sweater weather days
I’ll run and run trying to find a way to satiate this phase
This time of year I can never feel whole
I am broken and up north eternally has a piece of my soul
I know where I must go but until then I’ll have to comply
I’ll bury my aching and wait for the day I can kiss this place goodbye
Home is where the heart is…
They say that home is where the heart is…
If the heart is hollow and dusty then its home will always be dull and lifeless
If the heart lacks security and a desire to be loved then its home will always be treacherous and isolated
If the heart lacks joy and peace then its home will always be hopeless and agitated
If the heart lacks direction and is lost then its home will always be dark and motionless
If the heart feels rejected and criticized its home will always be embarrassed and despised
If the heart feels alone and worthless its home will always be empty and will lack value
What can be done in order for the heart to dispose of these negative thoughts, feelings and emotions?
How would its home portray and reflect when these negative thoughts, feelings and emotions have been vanished?
Who can take all of these troublesome aches and worries and replace it with nothing but pure clarity?
There is only one holy ‘person’
He is the only righteous King that can carry these heavy burdens of the heart
He is the beginning and end, the alpha and omega
He is the one and only…
He is worthy
He is mighty
He is everlasting
They say that home is where the heart is…
If the heart is filled with His word and promises its house will always represent the Kingdom of God
5.Temptation On The Mountain Top.
Follow the smoke signal,
And come put out this fire.
Or could it be that I'm camping out alone in this lonely island.
The view of the vast sea with its many fish isn't helping my apprehension.
God, come down and talk to me,
Cause I don't trust the morning star shining in the northern sky,
Telling me home is where the heart is.
Or just give me the courage to reach across the distance to my missing girl,
And hold her hand in this.
I've never wanted more for lust to feel like not sinning.
Cause the right thing don't seem to come fast enough.
I've tried fasting ,but maybe desire is just as much a hunger.
The truth is hard to swallow, but I just don't know which lie to buy
Living a borrowed life on wages of sin.
I'm convinced I can have another day to repent,
If only I can spend a night with you.
Turns out I'm not as righteous of a man as I'd like to be.
Not trying to see the big picture, I only want a peek(peak).
Sitting listening to the sermon on the mount,
Overlooking the kingdoms of the world and their glory,
I notice Bathsheba bathed in the light of God out in the terrace.
Joni, playing the jazz trumpet with your voice
Joni, who hated the music business
Joni, who was attracted to artists of all kinds
Like a moth to a roaring fire
Who in turn attracted and influenced like-minded minds
Around your flaming heart
Inviting others in, hesitantly, less it hurts too much.
Joni, you grew older than your age
Joni, eternally young, for you have the voice of sincerity
And naked truth on your side.
The artist supreme.
You lasted longer on this green earth than your companion Vincent,
Your mentor Miles and the locksmith Signore Picasso, who unlocked many doors for you.
Joni, forever young
Forever in hearts who yearn to accomplish what you accomplished.
Not fame and recognition, but entering the holy of holies,
Into your inner core, where you made love to yourself.
Home is where the heart is, they say
Joni, you showed some of us the way home, and we are eternally grateful.
Joni, you laboured to express, rather than impress,
With your smattering of artistic bursts
Like a bright sun behind a cloud, unable to contain its light.
heirloom roots dart unto tropical spaces
seven thousand islands stitched by dainty laces
where ripples of meadows form formless
there, lovely women gather milkfish with kindness
of gumamela leaves sun-kissed, peach-dressed.
On tinted valleys, a gathering of eagles astonished;
forests of green brush coconut - combed tresses
and temperate sky curls into sunset wishes
while crickets are led to peaks of tobacco embers.
Billowing grass huts cling to the clang of village pails
as serenades of tanned guitars speak of folk tales,
till rustic gaiety shifts rice grains open to gliding
unto coastlines made of Asian waves rambling.
A paradise on miles and miles of Pacific heredity
her limbs swaying into pearl necklaces so daintily,
such movement my lips burst of hibiscus seeds
a grandeur spread on a carpet of ancestral beads.
This is my morning and night broth, my daily gland
miles of guava trees dwelling…my birth mark, homeland.
©
*gumamela—a hibiscus plant found in Asia
* my country is the Philippines
SKAT's MY LAND IS MY HOME contest
by nette onclaud
The only woman I ever loved gives joy and love, For I have met and loved other women but not with such satisfaction I feel now. For she turns a dark day bright and shares a smile that brings life to a withering rose, if only her parents knew they would have called her Rose because she is my Rose of Sharon. Give me love my angel for today we joined in one, let us rejoice in our love and strengthen our bond in marriage.
Days, weeks, months pass and my love is still strong and sharper than any double edged sword. We on the second year now, why the sudden change. Our usual routines fade with the honeymoon phase, no more cuddling its now frequent quarreling. Is marriage like this? Love fades now its reality; she comes late at night and leaves early in the morning. The home once full of love now lays with sorrows.Donot know who to blame but myself for I ran before I could walk and landed before I could fall and now everything is vivid we jumped into marriage leaving us livid.
Everything changes I do not feel at home anymore, because home is where the heart is and for now my heart is wondering. I start feeling at home at pubs, for it is there where I drown my sorrows. Nightfall becomes my joy for I know the bar calls and sorrows are drowned. I now long for body warmth for in bed we now like Siamese twins joined by our backs.
Usual routine at the bar two three beers a woman approaches, she speaks with persuasion, have I found love at the bar or is it the alcohol taking its course? She whispers in my ear all through the night. She then leads me away like a bull led for slaughter.
Morning and everything is bleak but I feel body warmth, had I partaken in the act of love with the mystifying woman. Suddenly she awakes; she smiles and demands she be reward for her participation in the act. It then hits me, is she the thorny rose that wilts other roses, the lady of the night that brings gloom. I glance around the room; nothing strikes me as a condom. Does that mean I partook in the act of love with the lady of the night without protection?
Has my marriage lead me to death, It seems death is now soon to be my destiny. For I know with the ladies of the night comes the devil's advocate.
And now that the curse of my marriage
She was one of the reasons I lived and now she is the only reason I'm dying...
Form:
Home is where the Heart is
by Robert J (Bob) Moore (c) 2020
Home is where the heart is, I’ve heard many people say
but I find that I leave my heart, in many places along life’s way
My heart is in the land of my birth and in the land which I now know
with relatives I’ve have never seen, as through life’s stream I flow
Cousins I may never meet Aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces
both here, and a land across the sea carry my hearts little pieces
and my closest family hold large parts of my heart
I know how much this love will hurt, when that day comes to part
Places we have lived in, and memories we have of them
times gone, of joy and happiness, a life which we lived then
Home, is not where the heart is, the heart is where you’ve been
the people you have known and loved, the places you have seen
The heart is with the life you’ve lived, things done along the way
each step you left a little bit, and one day you may say
I knew them, and I loved them, and they meant the world to me
all my friends and relatives, and my loving family
In 1914 those aged between 18 and 55,
had no option or choice in life,
in 1939 those aged between 18 and 44,
had to defend home and fight a world war.
They dug holes in the mud, and lived in underground huts,
they had no luxuries and would often see guts.
When it rained,
there was no drain,
so water filled upto their knees,
a regular sight of dead bodies,
with no escape from disease.
Unlike yours was their life so remember thee,
it's a small thing to do for you and me.
Those who lived with machine guns taunting day and night,
in a hole in a field miles away from their life.
Vindication unknown and with no indication if the end was in sight,
just carry on soldier and fight for your right.
Secure the right of freedom
allowed in your Kingdom
as that place is your home.
Home is where the heart is but the future's an unknown.
So we who live now and don't face that fate,
should pay tribute to them for doing what we would hate.
Wars create heroes but wars are evil,
in the past people gave their life as a present for present day people.
The men and women of our island, our empire and our commonwealth,
as well as our allies that fought for a common want.
That want being the peace of which we know no different,
so pay your respects as the past is significant.
So thank you to the soldier, or the woman of the factory,
your story is unpleasant but is remembered as glory.
We owe unto you the most priceless of debts,
the generations that achieved greatness we must never forget.
We that live now should know our existence is simple,
the lessons of history are what make our lifetime peaceful.
It is our duty, as war was theirs, to remember what the past regrets.
Our species, our planet, forever remember, lest we forget.
Inspired by home... Wherever that is for you...
Some say home is where the heart is...
Home
(I hope you'll find your place)
By Michelle Morris
24/04/2025
Some say home is where the heart is
Some say it's wherever your hat is laid
I say home is that special place
Wherever you find your way
It might be where you find comfort
With friends and family
It might be where you find your soul
In its sweet mystery
It might be the silent reverie
In dark nights under the stars
It might be the ocean or waterfalls
Or maybe the wide desert spaces far
No matter where it takes you
I hope you'll find your place
Because every single one of us
Deserves that warm embrace
Our tribe that gives us acceptance
Our soul ties that connect us eternally
Our love seen in the eyes of others
Our blessings made all so real
In every one of us there remains
A piece of all the love we shared
No matter where it kisses your soul
Or lays it completely bare
I hope you'll never give up on it
Finding your way back home
Home will always be that special place
With love to call your own
© Michelle Morris, 2025