Long Homeward bound Poems
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Lost sheep he rescues; the shepherd rejoices.
The woman stops looking when her coin is found.
The prodigal bemoans heeding wrong voices;
as hope finds an humble son homeward bound.
I propose you a riddle, hear and explore.
What when it's found is still hunted the more?
When searching for anything worth searching for,
ask the right questions as a plan you unfold.
I care I search. Which pathways to ignore?
Seek with your heart, you'll find but never hold
Zeal that prompts the searching is what frees us;
knock daily, pursue the finding of Jesus.
written 3 January 2011
edited 23 September 2023
The man from Snowy River is a legend far and wide,
he is known throughout Australia for his daring mountain ride.
When from the station homestead, Regrets colt he broke away,
and then joined the wild bush horses, upon this fateful day.
So, the bushmen were all gathered, with Clancy in the lead,
Because it was known, no better horseman sat upon his steed.
The bushmen’s horses’ pure breeds, except for one all said,
A weedy beast quite undersized, but he was mountain bred.
But Clancy said “Yes, he will ride, for every man will count,
He’ll hold his seat, upon the ridge; we need him at the mount.”
And so, they started riding with their stock whips cracked the pace,
but when they reached the mountain side, they saw the horse’s race.
Down the scrubby mountain side, which defied the riders’ skill,
yet, the man from Snowy River raced his pony down the hill.
Through the scrub he raced along, and down mountain rough flint-stones,
until he finally beat them all, coats covered white with foam.
He turned the horses slowly, then took them homeward bound.
Yes, this daring rider’s mountain feat would surely spread around.
In Kosciusko’s Mountain range, this legend still is heard,
how this wiry lad of courage, became their household word.
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
(Dedication: Remembering SR Nathan, RIP)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Death comes surely to each man here,
End puzzle then with a fond squeeze;
Ask life truly for calm good cheer,
Touch knows just when in the light breeze;
Homeward bound soul must thus transcend.
Observe the scene of earth below,
Free to be whole with swift ascend.
Sense in-between that pleasant glow,
Rise promptly now from mortal chains...
Note that sure light that shines so bright,
Apt this endow that truth marks plain;
Thrill profound sight as soul takes flight,
Hurl fond blessings to kin and friends;
Ample feelings where love sparks grand,
Now earthly things find distant scan.
Leon Enriquez
22 August 2016
Singapore
Skulking between the thinning clumps
Of tattered sedge
A balding coot despondently calls,
Scratching Blackbirds scutter deeply
Into a Hawthorn hedge;
Whilst, creeping stealthily,
Gathering darkness onwardly crawls.
The blackened Moorhen washes the clinging
Soot from his feathered form,
Rising above the mirrored pond in awkward
flight.
Gathering clouds mumble softly of an
Impending storm,
When, silently menacing, inwards marches
The approaching night.
Listening intently, between murmurs upon
A breeze,
I check my step and briefly pause -
To catch a low sigh whispered from among
The sullen trees...
A last desperate plead of their lost cause.
For now billowing cumulonimbus sags
And begs to stall,
As, slowly homeward bound, I gather
About me to hastily make;
Where, circling high in rushing element,
The ragged Buzzard begins to fall...
Upon Heavens gathered Furies -
That so conspire to thunderously break!
Took the hop-on, hop-off boat
To Skansen in the cold,
An open-air museum
Worth the visit, we were told.
We wandered 'round and stopped inside
Old farmsteads, barns and school
Where guides in olden costumes
Told the history, so cool.
Varieties of animals,
From ponies, goats and cows
Were there to see as well as
Nordic wolves and moose a'browse.
From there we went to Abba,
A museum filled with song;
Watched videos and naturally
Did dance and sing along.
Another boat to Old Town
And the Christmas market crowd,
Then watched a candy maker work,
Where everyone was wowed.
Stopped briefly in a Blues club
Where we listened, packed in tight,
To a band on board to usher
All its fans into the night.
Up next, a lovely dinner
In a cozy local place
Where they found a little table
So some tourists they'd embrace.
At last, we made our way back
To our room in the hotel,
On streets that by day 3 we can
Maneuver pretty well.
Tomorrow will be easy
For we've learned our way around.
It's a pity, though, that Monday
We'll be flying homeward bound.
It was a cold winter day on the Fundy Bay when the wind and the Ocean Raged
You were a child with the sweetest smile who walked through a storm for a mile
Over the frozen sand as I held your hand, we made our way to the land
Up over the banks past the shipyard tanks and a pile of old wooden planks
Homeward bound as the snow fell down and wood shavings blew all around
I held your hand like a grown man the way that your Mother planned
Keeping you warm from the day I was born together we weathered the storm
I was made by a hand, with wool from a lamb, with love knitted in every strand
As soft as a kitten and Oh! So smitten, I...Just one of pair of mittens.
April 12, 2018
Author: Elaine Cecelia George
Homeward Bound
It doesn't matter how fine your house.
Or what kind of trips you took.
What car you drive or how much cash;
The Bank records in your books.
How famous you are will soon pass away;
And you will be yesterday's news.
Your beauty will fade, and you hair fall out;
But what of the choices you choose?
There are things that we do that last longer than death.
That don't crumble and don't fade in time.
There are decisions we make that are not for ourselves.
There are mountains that we need to climb.
Light up the way for those in the dark.
Strengthen the weak and forlorn.
This is the reason you walk among men;
The reason for which you were born.
Invest in the lives of the people you love.
For generations yet far to come.
Live such a life that they'll follow your path,
And of your harvest they'll reap the sum.
Build for you must, it's the way of all men;
But hold to these principles fast.
Build the things that matter the most.
Build the things that will last.
Seaweed, fragmented shell as cannonballs
in maelstrom hurled upon the shore.
The bellowing wind cast all asunder
as Summer’s shoots from shifting sand were torn.
Such was Autumn’s storm.
The sleet was blown in horizontal sheets
as figures double-bent fought step by step
to make but little progress, homeward bound.
The sky was lost in billowing grey, forlorn.
Such was Winter’s storm.
Relentlessly the wind swept off the ocean
with yet more rain to swell the sodden peat.
A daily deluge on embattled land,
with hope yet stirring seeds of life newborn.
Such was Springtime’s storm.
The grey skies shift to blue, and now a breeze
is heralding a longed-for transformation.
With rainbow colours Mother Earth is blessed
and all the islands of the west caressed, reborn.
Sweet Summer knows no storm.
Sighs, and the unsmiling scarred summer skies,
Stealthily, behind the invisible window
Broken into particles,a soul uneasily dies
In that familiar place. Be away. Oh go!
Anticipating that no one is there
But those moments that again I see
The surprised, longing eyes, the smile so fair,
You cheated me..You cheated me.
New watchpersons year by year are employed
But your footprints here I still see
Because some things cannot be destroyed
You cheated me..You cheated me.
Within the unobstrusive silence I am found,
In familiar inertia the escape is neat,
The weary feet again homeward bound
I cheat. I cheat. I cheat.
June 1, 2018
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