Short Birthplace Poems

That which so beautifully complicates you 
is the birthplace of poetry....

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Oh nostalgia you will never sleep as a poem now gently breached.

 © Harry J Horsman 2020...

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I thought
Home is a long way away
for everyone

No matter how we are closer,
we live in
birthplace....

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My mother was
         my first room
         birthplace and address...
         After there, I came to
          the world......

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Where is the birthplace
Of the unholy and corrupt
The place of the lost
Where evil stems and harbors
Final home of the undead

Russell Sivey...

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There once was a place called Acirema
A ways from the sands of Ipanema
   The birthplace of Squanto
   The home of brave Tonto 
Backwards. it fought at Iwo Jima...

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Birthplace
I’m raised

Big part
My heart

God’s gift
Hate drifts

Less strains
Love reigns

I long
Belong

Strong bond
Faith mound

Dreams’ core
Hope soars

I rest
The Best!
...

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Were not exiled from your birthplace my soul you would not have to endure life's pains!







© Demetrios Trifiatis
       20 March 2017

* Dedicated to a dear friend going through difficult times....

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Back in my birthplace, though it has no dazzle 
Jays still fly gracefully by its castle
By the olden hill it stands
As the mill in the hinterlands
Is turning in the wind
Like a tough rhino's skin 
Earthen fortress, tough front wall
Yield? Never! I am a barrier tall...

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The pathways we follow
   are too oft chosen for us

Our birthplace or breeding 
   as to flowers their seeding

Schools and society too have their way
   framing whatever they want us to say

Hearts need to express their deepest yearnings
   toward the pathways our feet someday will be turning...

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The world is black if you see it from earth
The world is white if you stand upon it
This world is the power
of the creatures of night
and it's king has the power 
to lessen it's might...

This is the entry to the history of Lore:
the planet that give earth it's night.
and the birthplace of NightHeart....

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I have no complain 
I am not alone 
Loneliness never touch me 

I am alone in crowded 
But into myself I am and me- the duet echo, 
All through several echo of me and my inside, 
A ritual form of corpse- soul and I am 

No, never I was alone 
from womb to birthplace 
within love- 
love of myself, 
my echo!...

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Bas’ video of Africa really inspired me 
Just riding on the Nile river Casually 
He got me thinking bout my life, my family 
My roots, my ancestors, my legacy
The real eastside--cradle of humanity 
The birthplace of knowledge & reality 
What’d you think, happen magically? 
Kings & queens, put on a boat, tragically...

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I have traveled to and fro
To know that there is no place
Like home Sweet home
Charity begins at home because
You're a strange native to other
Natives home Sweet home
Home is an asset so a man
Without a good home is a
Grown stranger to his people
Your home is your origin
Your birthplace is a turning point
Home Sweet home...

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Bizarre world
With bizarre people
Dwelling with pseudo reality
To "go with the flow"
Unborn dreams
Unspecified dreams
Die down
Perish 'n lay down
in the birthplace itself
or stay hidden forever
in the deep heart's core
To live your pseudo reality
you question others' ill-doings

How about questioning your own sanity?
...

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Invisible yet powerful
The wind is, of course, the most respected
Of the elements
But what about water? 
With multiple personalities
The seas rage
Then there is fire
Strong and beautiful and majestic
Topping them all- but remember the Earth
The foundation
The birthplace of all plant life on this planet
Maybe they're all important. 
The Elements...

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Often greatness comes from humble roots
Where none-expected talents lay hidden
Beneath veneers of undeveloped yearning,
Hiding like gemstones in hard rough slate
Until the master discovers facets that glisten.

written January 1, 2020
[while visiting the birthplace of
Elvis Presley in Tupelo, Mississippi]

Entered "Bite Size Poetry No. 32" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier...

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Some say “East or West home is best”. They regard
their birthplace like Mecca to Muslims, or Jerusalem to Jews.
Food tastes better, air is much more refreshing, people friendlier,
wines warmer…. Life outside their homes is less than they expect,
like training yourself to take tea with less sugar.
For me, I think Home is where the heart belongs. A place you can feel
free to be who you really are....

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Water milk warm
Honey sand so light
The breeze so soothing
Misty air sunshine filled
And your smile is more than just sweet

I am with myself
With seagulls near me
Lost sailors whispering
The sound of waves very calming
And pine trees pivoting in the sea

An escape of a thought
In this domain of freedom
Then crushed by thunder
A rainfall forced rainbow
And this story is salty air carried...

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A blank sheet of stationary
lays speechless beside a keyboard.
Scores of single letters and marks-
Inert symbols invented years
Lost to man’s recent memory.
Instruments of mental fury
And human eventemperedness.
What does fate hold in store for it?
Will it be a fiery paper
With memorable rhetoric
Or the birthplace of a poem?
Both are conceivable concepts
Yet the unsullied cellulose
Is mute waiting to be unmasked....

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Listen to poem:

Body Art
David J Walker

It was beautiful beyond any measure
As the birthplace of unheard-of ideas
Mothers wept
Fathers slept 
While the skin-toned canvas 
Spread thin and then 
thinner again 
with age
Topographic changes across the brow 
The eyes seized in torrents of time
The deliquesce of delicate hands 
Unplanned corpulence 
In the fading spadix of arums and palms

Light will take what time has left behind...

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Mental Curse Words

If my mind was my mouth you
might think I had a potty mouth,
because my mind is a lot dirtier
than my mouth

When a situation is relentlessly
offensive and God is not speaking,
the curse words become a very
suitable outlet in my eyes.

Nevertheless I wish I was better at
controlling the tongue of my mind,
considering that the mind is arguably
the birthplace of corruption...

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The space binding darkness to light,
birthplace of visions where souls 
do not stray in exclusion, but congregate 
wearing the mantle of mercy and peace.

Bitter arguments unreconciled, blessings 
never spoken, angry exchanges left wanting
of quick resolution have no meaning here. 

All torments are quieted, 
rumors and lies are forgiven, 
love and respect take their hold for those 
children of God who were wandering out in the cold....

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a little light in the eye searches for the illusion. 

grain alcohol filled apparitions stumble through the cornea
 seeking asylum from the light of day.  


no chance to forget now your birthplace a moment ago.
 
thin thin gravity round your head...


   a little darkness in a pair of sunglasses
    blinds the eye...... tints the bent hew.

   indiscrepant frames pass and wander away
 before the color can be deciphered....

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The space binding darkness to light, 
birthplace of visions where souls 
do not stray in exclusion, but congregate 
wearing the mantle of mercy and peace. 

Bitter arguments unreconciled, blessings 
never spoken, angry exchanges left wanting 
of quick resolution have no meaning here. 

All torments are quieted, 
rumors and lies are forgiven, 
love and respect take their hold for those 
children of God who were wandering out in the cold....

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