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Why should i call this house a home
its like im around people and still feel alone
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Where I want the road
to take me
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A little green-eyed girl
Who's not afraid to speak
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Borrow a little blue from the skies,
To paint it on walls of my ruined house.
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Home is where the heart is........
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Elba [I]
Idaho spreads a grey-green coverlet
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maybe, it is hiding in the
pumping walls of the hip club: Opus
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fingertips aflame,
we all forgot our names.
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On these hills wind my way homeward
These familiar roads I have traveled long ago
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One mind / One soul / One friend / To make it through / One love / One God / One heaven above / For believers in Him / I always will / Love Him / But now I shall / Become a sin / One sin
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Nights here, / shine almost as bright as the days. / The moon smiles down / lighting the fields with her silver warmth. / Flashlights and fear are left at home, / As children wander the shining streets. / The
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I hear the birdsong / as finches and sparrows / line up to take turns on / my Yankee Droll feeders. / My two Goldens wait / for me to come
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I hail from South Dakota, / in a tiny little town on the plains. / No, we don't ride in buggies, / yes, we have running water, / and no, sod houses are of the past. / Where I live, everyone knows everyone, /
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by She burns
23 lines, 2 comments,
on Jun 4 2:12 AM 2007. In Longing, Tribute, Love, Hope, Home, Heart, Pain, Undying rose, Joy, Gift, Better days
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Snuggled in a highland clearing, / amidst the ponderosa pines, / is the cabin from my memories / log walls cloaked in vines. / Tis, a house where love is present, / A house where pain is gone. / And from this
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In a Pennsylvania valley, region of southwest, / Anchored regally a horizon in splendid rest, / Sits an ocean of Laurel Mountain Magesty. /
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Through life we visit places Some are fun and interesting,
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This eternity we spend on distant stars remind us of the places we come to think of as home...
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This is a home, away from dear home.
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The mountains blue in the distance Fields and plains surrounding me
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Racing around in the old pickup truck Eluding the police after I shot that buck.
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What happens in families... when things go wrong.
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If home is where the heart is, What distinguishes it from a house?
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Not the house, the state of solitute
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There's garbage on every surface- maggots dropping from overhead,
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by She burns
14 lines, 6 comments,
on Feb 19 2:45 AM 2007. In Dreams, Joy, Love, Hope, Home, Unopen memories, Longing, Sad, Self, Wish, You and me
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by She burns
15 lines,
on Feb 17 5:10 AM 2007. In You and me, Dreams, Joy, Life, Home, Care, Love, Family, Hope, Happiness
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Shakespearean fluttering-page renegades With empty museum clattering
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Those haunting hollows, I left behind. I left where it lay cold.
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As labor unions march to work Like the proud ship that sits Abreast to the mighty sea
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He finds solace from the vast cruel world
By retreating to his iridescent inner world of dreams
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Tortured and disturbed trapped in this house,
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Home is not a place It is a fealing
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Above all the "hellos" and "welcome homes" rings one in particular It is the long-missed "woof!" of the family dog Slobbering her salutat
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Pen and ink pumpkin, I remember it’s October, and that Another one of my years has come to an end so little yesterdays ago, and I wonder
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This is a poem about my feelings towards my home place, resentment with a pinch of patriotism, and a strong desire to leave
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