This was nostalgia in the literal Greek sense: the pain of not being able to return to one's home and family.
quote by John Thorn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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where is A? (for A)
he sent me a video
of himself humming in
Greek
not the literal Greek
language that you understand
it is strange and
(my heart cries perhaps
there is this
indescribable sympathy for
one in pain)
i may be out of frame
attributing pain to one who has not
experience pain
outside this small world of
indifference
it is the distance that understands
and i am definite about it
i dream of someone who fell upon a cliff
deep into the blue ocean beneath
and for one thing
i have not heard any cry for help
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Chronicles of Nostalgia Part 1 Pick up Something... a memory
Amidst the pain i crawled and reached for
The pocket knife, suddenly a memory to abhor
Slipped through my hands into my mind
I swatted it away along with the flashback I tried to find
My flashbang, for i was sweating anticipating the next enemy
As soon as my fingers impacted the surface a memory did come
A memory of her, but
She is gone... I must forget... I feel confused... must
I just chased my memories around and
Around, but when i got to the end there was a sting
Of pain and angst and a pang of my nostalgia
With shackles of my shadow I once was, I cannot sing
The tune
Of life nor rejoice with love in June
No, school seems just a s hollow
This poem is a personal self pit wallow
This is the tune of nostalgia
Sometimes it has repercussion, others times
After just one rhyme
Life and pain drift away
This very day
Today hear the ballad of those whose
Nostalgia is malignant.
poem by David Knox
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My Home
It is not a house, and so it is not a piece
Of structure, not the roof or
The floor
Or the kitchen or the living room,
My home is where I grow
Wherever it is
Where I become fully myself
Alive &
Prosperous in my endeavors
It is where my most important
Work is started
And finished and
Appreciated
In this sense my home becomes
A certain place
Where I am accepted
& affirmed
& appreciated
Where I have self-esteem
Where I
Do not feel this sense of
Sickness & death
This alienation
It is when I travel so far
Searching
And it is where
I must return and always desiring
& dreaming
To be back
And find it again
With all anticipation
This is also my home
My home is not what I buy
And pay
It is what I made
For myself
My personal touch
My own way of showing
What I am
And can be
And as one what one writer once wisely puts it
My home is not a house
It is me
It is people
It is the people around me
It is the love that I give
And they give in return
That makes
My home and it is where
Despite everything
That I am truly
Always
Homeward bound.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Family Pain
Why do family lie?
Why do family fight?
We suppose to be there for each other.
Family is suppose to be tight.
I don't get phone calls nor text messages from y'all.
Something just don't seem right.
Family pain is the worse pain.
The pain that make your heart not feel the same.
It really hurts when your own family don't remember your name.
Your heart is breaking fast, the pieces falling from it can't be tamed.
Makes you want to break down and cry when you hear your family talk about you being the family shame.
Why do family lie?
Why do family fight?
We suppose to be there for each other.
Family is suppose to be tight.
'Family will hurt you the worst than abybody.'
I guess that saying is right.
poem by Kayla Martin
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Family
Where have you come from?
Where are you going?
Tell me whats brought you here now.
And is your heart singing?
Then share what your bringing;
We all are a part of the show.
cause we are all going home,
cause we are a family,
And we are all going home.
Are you listening?
We are all going home,
So come join the family,
cause we are all going home.
But is your heart quiet?
Is something not right?
Can you tell me whats blocking your way?
Well, just ask the father;
He knows every problem.
Hell carry that burden away.
cause we are all going home,
cause we are a family,
And we are all going home.
Are you listening?
We are all going home,
So come join the family,
cause we are a family,
And we are all going home.
Yes, we are all going home.
song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Return Sonata
Return the dust that is in my home to the streets at home
So that I can have a dust free home
Return the mice to the streets at home
So that I can have no mice in my home
Return some warmth to my home
So that my home can be warm also
Return peace to my home
So that I can live in peace at home
Return freedom to me
So that I can live free
Return the fresh air to my home
So that I can be able to breathe the fresh air
Return the sound of silence to my home
So that I can have some silence while I sleep
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Day After The Hurricane
And they return home
after the quick evacuation
home to their homelessness,
home to the loss of their properties
built up for years and decades
now pounded and crumpled by waves.
And they return home,
home to their parks and businesses
bulldozed by giant monsters in the night.
And they return home
home to their ports and shores
finding houses of their neighbors
uprooted and thrown into deep seas.
And they return home,
home to their childhood and memories
recorded in albums and documents
videos, CDs and files in computers
now drowned by waters
and covered by piles of dirt and mud.
And they return home,
home to their own town or city
which once was lighted with much glee.
And here they now return
to this gloom of darkness
with live wires that may soon
explode into big flames of fires.
Such a tragic home coming
from the fury of the Super Power Sandy!
Have mercy, O Lord, on the victims
of this merciless hurricane.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Knock over
I feel embarrassed.
I have sailed almost fifteen years
but I never had a nostalgia as today.
If I can borrow a pair of old wings
from a friendly bird,
I promise you to give whatever you want.
I just want to fly home and come back
definitely I'll return your wings.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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It's Better With The Good Eye
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be,
Looking back at oh so far away.
Memory’s just another way to see.
A place to go on holiday for free,
Forty years ago if it’s a day.
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be.
And was that other person really me,
What changed, why could I not stay?
Memory’s just another way to see
The way things were around us then when we
Thought all our dreams were surely on their way.
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be,
The sky was always blue it seemed to me,
Every day the sun shone so they say -
Memory’s just another way to see,
But now I know that life’s not lunch for free
That bitter fruit is served on many days
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be,
Memory’s just another way to see.
Martin Swords
“Prompt Poems”
Villanelle
March 2008
poem by Martin Swords
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A Home is a Family is Love
Coming home after a long leave
Is always comforting.
It’s funny how a home is a home,
And not just a house or building.
A home is where a family resides.
Without a family there is no love,
And without love a home doesn’t exist.
A home, love, and family coexist
And without one the others don’t.
Is that why so many are lost,
Because they don’t have a home
Or family or for that matter love.
They look hopelessly for these,
But really never find them.
Home is where the heart is,
Love comes from the heart,
And families share that love.
I’m sorrowful for the lost among,
Because my three are wonderful.
Is it that some are not as blessed,
Or is it they just don’t look?
poem by Britney Hogue
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Family talk
The world is our home
The cosmos is our family
We should keep the secret
Within the family.
Here is our family
There is love there is hate
There is lust there is vengeance
There is jealousy there is greed
There is loyalty there is betrayal.
We are all here in the family
In this family no body is
Taking birth nobody is dying
And all are constant and eternal.
The world is our home
Our family and it is ours.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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How I Fell
i fell so down
i want to be lied down in the ground
besides the ones i lost year round
i fell like a dog who just got put down
i need a girl to fell my pain
i fell if i had one it would ease my pain
i hate living in a foster home
why can't i live with a family member at home
i want to cry when i have to sleep in a stangers house
i fell so lettle just like a mouse
every day i have to fight to stay free
every day i have to be strong not to weep
i miss not hanging with my family
i got to see them more when i was locked down
i fell so bad right about now
every day that i live alone
i fell so bad
sir loc homes couldn't solve why i fell alone
i miss you guys i mean my family
i can't go on like every thing is dandy
i want to leave this cold cold world
maybe i won't when ii find that special girl
i can't wait to leave this world
please god answer me why didi it have to be me
my sisters went home i got put in a strangers home
i got tooken away from who ever i thought loved me
now they come around wanting to hug me
i can't stand living away from my family
please god help me
i fell so sad, bad and mad
poem by Phillip Dalsing
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The Return
We find ourselves going home.
But isn't that where the heart is?
So half of us is not in the return
and that's what is amiss.
We now know just how it feels to be loved
in life's greatest way.
It fills you with a longing
to never have it go away.
Four days out of your life you treasure
and think sadly to yourself
that but for these four short days you've had
your life was an unopened book on a shelf.
You know you most probably will not return
to the family you have found.
But still you hide that in your mind
and look forward to your home ground.
So now you know you can mend all the missing parts
that your life's had.
And that in itself is healing
and helps when you are sad.
Return maybe?
maybe not?
but that's not the important thing.
Only the four days you lived is
what will finally bring
HAPPINESS.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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To The Aggies Of Ateneo De Davao Around The World
nostalgia is the word for all these now
we have the urge to look out the window and find
who we were: the joys of the college years that will tickle us
old friends and their memories like innocent children
coming on our laps asking for our embraces
old pictures make our hearts shrink a little only to grow
bigger like a bread from the pan
fresh and fuming with the flavor of wheat
nostalgia is the word for it
and time is its mother that nourishes with its milk
the past comes to us always with something greener
and a breather of mint and rosemary
some peppers and honeyed lemonades
nostalgia is the word for it
when our wings have gone far beyond the lands of our births
dissolving in the horizons of other lands
when our chirps are gone
nostalgia is the word for it
when we come back stronger this time and lovelier
with our wounds that healed
with our pains that lost its trick
nostalgia is the word for it
such is she a beautiful woman still even though the hairs have turned gray
and the breasts sag and the bones rattling like brittle sticks
nostalgia is the word for it and no matter where the winds of this world
and its cyclones and waves have taken us
we are back looking for the glitter of each other's eyes
and then we laugh and then the world has heard us
yes, nostalgia is the word that people seldom use
as they move on with their respective lives
but we are here once again
nostalgia is the theme, it is here and soon it will leave
we are once again full even for once
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Pain, My Pen
My pain has no bounds
My pen knows no boundaries
My pain drives me
Shows me pathways unknown
My pen stops me,
From treading in place where angels fear
My pain is temporary
But my pen is eternal
That's what pen tells my pain
Pain is home,
But so is my pen
A home away from home
A home that is earth
The place full of pain
So I retreat from it
And lock myself away
Pen in my hand
And pain in my heart
My sanctuary...
Thank god for my pen, my pain.
poem by Lusekelo Simwela
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If She Does Not Come Back
I have been waiting for her since my last poem
Maybe she has been delayed by this crazy wind of hopelessness
Snowed in by a false smile of nostalgia
There she is. Wet and frozen with a tired step
Bowed down with regret she is coming back into my life
No, I was wrong
The sigh seller
Is coming back from her midnight shift
On the Square of Lost Love
I will invite her to get wam in
My heart's warm home
Or maybe I will not
My heart is full of trepidation and pain
And I cannot receive her hardship
It is better if I wait
For the one from my last poem
She always comes back
She is my stork and swallow
Return ticket to my life
But what if she does not come back
poem by Jankovic Zoran
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I will argue that in the literal sense the programmed computer understands what the car and the adding machine understand, namely, exactly nothing.
quote by John Searle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Soldier Boy
Little Soldier boy, fight hard.
Fight for your country, your family, your friends.
Fight for me, little soldier boy.
Keep your head high, your spirit strong.
Be safe, little soldier boy.
Return in one piece.
And if the Lord should take you home,
then so be it.
We love you, little soldier boy.
We pray for you every night.
And hope to hold you tight soon.
I love my little soldier boy.
Come home little soldier boy.
Come back to your family.
Come back to me.
My little soldier boy.
Come home soon.
poem by Nedra Pepin
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What is home?
so do you mistake
your hotel as home?
or is home a feeling?
a fleeting feeling that
is here today and gone
tomorrow?
is it the lapse of time?
the multiplication of
your family?
is it the sense of
being away always
from a house?
is home nothing but
the heart that always
shall long for
the presence
of God?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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That sense of a life in natural objects, which in most poetry is but a rhetorical artifice, was, then, in Wordsworth the assertion of what was for him almost literal fact.
quote by Walter Pater
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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