Home is any four walls that enclose the right person.
quote by Helen Rowland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walls
Walls of stone and walls of brick,
Some walls thin and some walls thick,
Walls so high and walls so low,
Walls to hide and walls to show.
Walls quite short and walls quite tall,
Some walls, last well, some walls fall,
Walls for comfort, walls of hate,
Walls for security, walls ornate.
Some as a barricade, some to support,
Walls of wood and walls of iron wrought,
Walls as a barrier, walls to enclose,
Some are to sit on, some to lean and doze.
Walls we build ourselves, these aren't good,
Walls for privacy, walls that have stood,
So many years through weather foul or fine,
Walls, that are yours, walls that are mine.
Brick by brick they are built to last,
Whether built now or in the past,
They shelter us from so many things,
And shield us from whatever this life brings.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Cubic Slang
Enclose the closeness in your soul,
Enclose it as you enclose the ''uco'' in cornucopious.
Enclose the gray transparency in your sky,
When it is so close to your coming clouds.
They are the dimples of your cognitive space,
They are hollow thoughts,
When you set your ideals at naught.
Those clouds are inside of your gray
As close as the ''co'' in the cocoon,
Those clouds are fulfilled with your leady rain.
They are uncracked nuts waiting for a crack.
Let the rain of your Cumulonimbus storm
To fall over the lead of my pain.
Enclose inside of my lead
All your Oort clouds
Lost in your cubic slang.
MCN: CDDQ1-JVPR9-7NHF6
© copyright Fri Jan 20 UTC 2012 - All Rights Reserved
poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Its Ok
Its ok
Love is only meant for some
Im the rock
The shoulder you can cry on
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
Ill play it straight
While you laugh and drink and party all night long
Ill designate myself
To be the driver who takes you home
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
You can be pretty and tragic
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
You can be beautiful and fabulous
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
I cant reach the pain you feel
But Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
If you can hold on
Lose your fear
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
Falling down
Falling down
Where is your saint
To let you know youre not alone
To bring you peace
Help me be your friend your confidante
And keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Have not prisons - which kill all will and force of character in man, which enclose within their walls more vices than are met with on any other spot of the globe - always been universities of crime?
quote by Peter Kropotkin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shatterproof
I see those newly weds
Their eyes wide and believing
They bill and coo at the mention of chez nous
Appearances can be deceiving
Its just a door and a window
Four walls and a roof
But a home of your own would be shatterproof
A door and a window
Four walls and a roof
But a home of your own would be shatterproof
We papered over all the cracks
And painted a cats lick and a promise
The landlord was a man of few words
And most of them were ominous
Its just a door and a window
Four walls and a roof
But a home of your own would be shatterproof
A door and a window
Four walls and a roof
But a home of your own would be shatterproof
It was nothing really to write home about
Then one day it all appears too much
Here comes my little hammer and its shatterproof touch
He said, be practical,
These are most unreasonable demands.
Forget about the broken spectacles
And the damage to your hand.
Its just a door and a window
Four walls and a roof
And the doctors say Im almost shatterproof
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Am I not a person?
Am I not a person?
It would appear.
That im not a person.
Not quite human.
More like a zombie so to say.
Am I not a person?
That is the question.
Im not a person.
Not quite human.
An emotionless wrekage.
Within the walls of brakeage.
Am I not quite a person?
Im not quite humane.
Not quite the person.
I once used to be.
Am I a person?
Or just a big mess.
And a sorry excuse
For a person?
Im not quite a person.
This I do now no.
Im more like a zombie.
Am I not quite a person.
Nope Im not.
I just one sad sorry mess.
A zombie of my formerself.
Just a sad sorry mess.
And a pethetic excuse
For a life.
Amy Kerswell
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Between Walls Between Walls
walls around us
always walls around us
morning till noon
till night walls always walls between
us i try to inser some words
of consolation between us
all walls rain walls between us
there is no word for us
for it
we, it, we, us, there is nothing
between us
air, between, us, air, air, air,
between us, still walls, walls,
speak, speak
why, why are these walls still walls
between us
i guess, you are dead, then
cogito, eureka,
will i be a happy man then?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Home Song
I read within a poet's book
A word that starred the page:
"Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage!"
Yes, that is true; and something more
You'll find, where'er you roam,
That marble floors and gilded walls
Can never make a home.
But every house where Love abides,
And Friendship is a guest,
Is surely home, and home-sweet-home:
For there the heart can rest.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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These Walls
If these walls could talk,
I wonder what what would they say
Would they thank me for being painted
Or will they ask me, to wash the paint away.
Would they tell me of the pictures
That once hung upon them their
Pictures that once adorn those walls
Or I wonder would they even care.
Would they speak upon the stories
That was heard within these walls
That no one else even knows about,
That is if the stories these walls could recall.
Was there children laughter all about
Or any secrets heard and being told
I wonder what have they listened to
And I wonder if anyone will ever know.
These walls inside this house
That for years have stood alone
With the stories that was told and heard
While this house had became a home.
The Sadness that they might had seen
And the worries and sorrow that they felt
Maybe they don't want to remember it at all
And maybe they too keep it bottled upon their self.
Were they painted to cover up secrets
Was they battered as to protect someone's lies
Or were they wallpapered to cover up the truth
And did they hear the whispers and the cries.
These walls they are still standing
Through the years of the days and nights
While listening and knowing all done and said
In the darkness and also in the light.
I look at these walls just one last time
As I head home from my walk,
How I wish I knew what they heard and know,
But that is, if these walls could only talk.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Are Just Years
i thought home is where we went when we fell out of favour
ive since learned that home is where we go to learn what favours are
home is a language we all understand
and this is how the language came to me
i realise
home is where we dont feel things
fortune has arranged that the language wont abandon us
it never will abandon us
if you dont miss your home
i cant remember much about my home
when im away from...
home, where were welcome
we appear to be like you
the were welcome when we
appear to be alike
living in fiction
just seems much better than living in words
if you live in fiction
homes no match for a word
ever existence
the more you go on the same as before
the more you light up the same as this time
the more you sing
all your songs about
all your...
living in fiction
is much more better than living in words
if you live in fiction
homes much better than words
living in fiction
just seems much better than living in words
if you live in fiction
then homes no better than words
im in fiction [x6]
and what i see it seems so standard
it always seems that youre left stranded [x6]
why dont you look beond
the village wall?
look beyond the village wall
weve got four walls at home
got four walls at home
and these walls around your head
thats what they are
theyre walls around your head
an empty head is creative
and direct me
to where you come from
and what you thought you knew
where you come from
[?]
home is the most overused word [x4]
love is the most overused word
just are the most overused words
picture this the most
song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My home is in you
A home
Doesn’t have four corner post
To call it a home and to stand on its own
As long as your love is strong
I don’t need that four corner post
A home
Doesn’t have four big walls
To call it a home and to protect me when nature calls
As long as your arms is around me
I don’t need those four big walls
A home
Doesn’t have to be in an isolated place
To call it a home and to find a solemn inner peace
As long as I have you near me
I don’t have to be in an isolated place
A home
Doesn’t have to constructed materially
To find all the comfort and call it a home
As long as I have you and your love
I don’t need to built a home for my home is in you
12.18.05
poem by Sweet Seven
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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FOR M. (Just For Fun)
geometry starts with a
dot, and since the dot travels a lot
more lines are made
not contented the lines make
shapes
others enclose themselves
like walls and
churches others spread like
the lines of a map
reaching for countries and
people and
all the nooks of the earth
since then the world is
thankful for a dot
that hopes for spaces and skies
and light and
speed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Murder is a Colorful Thing
Red is the color of the blood splashed on the walls of my home.
Orange is the color of her stained shirt because of the red of the blood splashed on the walls of my home.
Yellow is the color of her shirt before it was stained orange because of the red of the blood splashed on the walls of my home.
Green is the color of her stomach as I cut her tummy open through her once yellow shirt stained orange because of the red of the blood splashed on the walls of my home.
Blue is the color of the happy sky while I cut into the green of her tummy through her once yellow shirt now stained orange because of the red of the blood splashed on the walls of my home.
Violet is the color of my swollen face from crying under the blue happy sky while I cut into the green of her tummy through her once yellow shirt now stained orange because of the red of the blood splashed on the walls of my home.
Murder is a colorful thing...
poem by Tamara Buengener
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My Home
My home
Where is my home
My home is not about
These walls of bricks
My home is not
A mansion full of riches
My home is not where
People of the same skin lives
But where i will find
Peace, love and harmony
Where i will find
A better destiny
Where do freedom lives
Here or there
Then that is my home
poem by Matt Ancient
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Walls Of Silent
WALLS OF SILENT
What if walls could talk what would they say?
Along the walls they walk
Sputtering words every day
In boardrooms
In school hallways
Hotels walls
And shopping malls
In Elevators
Hospital corridors
Office walls
Tenement halls
And bedroom walls
Some words never to been mention again
Other words that take to the air ways
Walls of silent’s
What would they say…
poem by Paul Klobusicky
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sometimes 2
Sometimes walls are comforting and secure
while other walls seem like a prison make.
Sometimes places hold a comfort zone
while others hold an alien atmosphere.
Sometimes we feel not wanted
while other times we feel like home.
Sometimes we feel trapped by circumstance
and all the time we want to be free.
Sometimes a break is not a break
but just our prison walls make.
It is then we wish we were far away
in the comfort of our home.
16 September 2010
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Show Me The Meaning Of Home
Home is your paradise
Home is your sanctuary
Show me the meaning of home
A home is the person residency
And in your home you can rest in peace
Because you won't find any violence inside of your home
Also at home during the Summer months the birds will at your porch
And you will be able to hear them singing early in the morning
But the good thing about Summer is that the days are longer
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Can One Person Do
(n. rodgers/g. smith)
What can one person do
More than a little bit
More than a little bit
Can I fight the battle
All by myself
Can I make a miracle happen
As long as I can think
And got my health
Ill never stop
Im too strong for that
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
Everyones gotta move
What they can move
The faithful can sometimes move mountains
When your faith is right
You will never lose your heart, your hope
Or your good friends
Dont be overcome by frustrations
Live up to your highest expectations
Im tellin you just for your information
Just for, just for your information
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
Looked into my soul and suspected
That Im gonna take, gonna take on the unexpected
Walked into the fire unprotected
Walk into the fire
What can one person do
What can one person be
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
What can one person do
When its one like you
When its one like me
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Separated Between Two Walls
between two walls
i find myself in but
i do not tarry, i am,
the resilient wind
and i lift myself up
and see the walls
from a distance.
they say they are
protective of me.
they say they want
to keep me safe
and at bay with what
is right and true.
the walls of fantasy
and the
the walls of reality.
these are not walls
sooner i will make
them myriad openings
exits and entrances
to the house of my
peace and happiness.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Dream Home
My dream home would be a log home in the city
Downstairs would be the kitchen with the laundryroom in it
And a storage area
Also there would be a family room with a living room
The log home would have 4 bedrooms and 4 bathrooms
In the hall of the log home would be the linen closset
At the front of the log home there would be the stone driveway
But at the back of the log home there would be the indoor garden so that We could use it all year round
The floor in the log home would be wood
And the walls in the log home would be beige
There would be Ikea furniture inside of the log home
Also the neighbourhood would be a well established neighbourhood
But very quiet indeed
Not too much traffic
The parks nearby would be very sophisticated with colorful
Flowers and beautiful trees
poem by Aldo Kraas
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