Homecoming
Homecoming
I had traveled long and far before getting home,
and it was a beautiful spring day when I arrived.
The air in the flat smelt of neglect, the dust of
memories covered family pictures. “those where
the days my love.” A phrase from a recent song
murmured on my lips. I half turned by the door
wanted to run away again only this time I had
nowhere to go my journey over.
Agonizing silence a never ending Om, I got to do
something, opened the blinds to the door out to
the terrace and up from a flowerpot of dry soil…
and two small eggs flew a pigeon. Wonder and
new hope. If a meek bird could find a home here
so could I; of course for now the terrace was out
of bound. Slowly, ghosts of past misery vanished
as ancient dust danced in a halo of sunlight.
,
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Related quotes
You Can Never Go Home
I dont know what Im searching for
I never have opened the door,
Tomorrow might find me at last,
Turning my back on the past,
But, time will tell, of stars that fell,
A million years ago.
Memories can never take you back, home, sweet home.
You can never go home anymore.
All my life I never really knew me till today,
Now I know why, Im just another step along the way,
I lie awake for hours, Im just waiting for the sun.
When the journey we are making has begun,
Dont deny the feeling that is stealing through your heart,
Every happy ending needs to have a start.
All my life I never really knew me till today,
Now I know why, Im just another step along the way,
Weep no more for treasures youve been searching for in vain.
cos the truth is gently falling with the rain,
High above the forest lie the pastures of the sun,
Where the two that learned the secret are now one.
I dont know what Im searching for
I never have opened the door,
Tomorrow might find me at last,
Turning my back on the past,
But, time will tell, of stars that fell,
A million years ago.
Memories can never take you back, home, sweet home.
You can never go home anymore.
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Welcome Home
Welcome home,
back to the bosom of the family.
After any journey,
it is always nice to see
smiling faces there to greet you
when you open up the door.
The door that has remained closed
for a length of time
while you were away.
Welcome home
and we hope your here to stay.
25 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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FEEL AGAIN - Song Lyrics
Passing by my eyes
Are people living lives
They flow before my gaze
Just like the memories
In my mind
I watch them from
My hiding place
In shadows so
To hide my face
And as they pass
The memories flash
Of how it felt to feel that way
And home…
I long for home…
Where is my home…
Please take me home…
Home…
Please take me home…
Where is my home…
I long for home…
I watch the people
Not because
I wanna be their friend
I watch them not
Because I hope to know
Them in the end
I simply watch
And ask myself
Why do I feel this way
How did I get here
Can I hope
To feel again someday
To feel the feelings
That they feel…
To hope, to love, to cry
To fall and feel the pain
Or rise in triumph to the sky
And home…
I long for home…
Where is my home…
Please take me home…
Home…
Please take me home…
Where is my home…
I long for home…
All I have are memories
Of the times
When things were good
Memories of the days
Of when I felt
The way I should
Memories now that
Flow before the view
Inside my mind
Just as the passing people
Flow before my open eyes
Oh God! How can I be
Like them
Is there a way to
Start again
I know there is
I know its there
I’ll find it
I don’t ****ing care
What I have to go through
What I lose and what I lack
I know my heart
Can feel again
If I can only
Find my way back
Home…
I’m going home…
This is my home…
It feels like home…
Home…
This feels like home…
This feels like home…
This feels like home…
Home…
This feels like home…
This feels like home…
This feels like home…
I’m finally home
…Jeff Bresee
poem by Jeff Bresee
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Picture of Love
If only I could touch your hands
Maybe you will rightly understand
Your own final destined place
And how I desire to touch your face
This is undoubtedly a picture of love
With your pink lips curled like a curve
Dust is to dust
As rust is to rust
Dust is to dust
As lust is lust
And I have found myself completely lost
Lost in an imaginary beautiful picture
Ready for you my love at any cost
I perceive this as a destined fixture
Trust is a must
As mistrust is disgust
Dust is to dust
And love is to trust
So let us adjust
Before the month of August
And I have found an entry
To your heart by pure chemistry
Your picture is the one of the century
And I will embark on this journey
A journey of curiosity
A journey of animosity
Because a picture is like a beautiful song
You can stare as you would listen to it all day long
Copyright 2007 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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A Beautiful Fairy And The Fairy Dust Rain
Around this time of the year
The arrival of Spring is near
The arrival of Spring is almost here
And I'll happily be one with the spirits of nature
I'll completely embrace the magic of spring
As well as the wonder of nature
And the many other worldly pleasures
Around this time of the year
I await the fairy dust rain
Surrounded by trees and flowers
And many other things that are green
I await the arrival of the fairy dust rain
And many other sights of nature just waiting to be seen
A beautiful fairy flutters down from the sky
And lands down in front of me
She's almost as tall as me
We greet each other
And our hopes are the same
As we wait for the fairy dust rain
In the meantime
The beautiful fairy shows me her gifts of magic
And shares her knowledge with me as well
After periods of time have gone by
Fairy dust begins to rain down from the sky
The fairy dust rain has finally arrived
And we share the smiles and laughter
You ask me for a dance
And I don't hesitate to pass up this chance
We dance
Surrounded by flowers
Surrounded by trees
Surrounded by the fairy dust rain
After dancing
We look into each other's eyes
And then up to the skies
As the fairy dust rain continues to fall
Our eyes then return to each other
And we share a hug
You flutter your wings a little
Shaking off some of the fairy dust that's covered them
You tell me you're staying with me
At least for the time being right now
Little by little
We're being lightly covered in the fairy dust rain
Beautiful fairy
I must say that these moments we share
They're memorable and precious
You echo your feelings and sentiments to me as well
As the fairy dust rain continues to fill the air
Side by side
We stand together
Loving what's happening
But most importantly
We enjoy the sight of the fairy dust rain
poem by Justin Gildow
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Abani, Are You Home?
Abani, are you home?
The neighbourhood lies in sleep with doors closed
But I keep hearing the night knocking at my door,
'Abani, are you home? '
Here it rains all the twelve months
Here the clouds roam like cows
Here the eager green grass
closes in on the door,
'Abani, are you home? '
In my heart, half-dissolved, long-traveled
I fall asleep within pain
Suddenly I hear the night knocking at my door,
'Abani, are you home? '
poem by Shakti Chattopadhay
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My House
I have a house I've lived in long:
I can't recall my going in.
'Twere better bartered for a song
Ere ruin, rot and rust begin.
When it was fresh and fine and fair,
I used it with neglect, I fear;
But now I husband it with care
And cherish it form year to year.
Oh do not put it to the flame
When I have gone, but let the dust,
The honest earth from which it came,
Reclaim it as is only juts.
For when at last I close the door,
And turn the key and go away,
I deed my house forever more
To silence, sleep and slow decay.
My house is old beyond repair,
And soon I must abandon it,
A poor ghost, seeking everywhere
To find a home as fine and fit;
But if I win domain divine
Wherein eternally to dwell,
I'll not forget, O Body Mine!
Life home of Me, I've loved you well.
poem by Robert William Service
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On Any Other Day
You want something corny?
You got it
Theres a house on my street
And it looks real neat
Im the chap who lives in it
Theres a tree on the sidewalk
Theres a car by the door
Ill go for a drive in it
And when the wombat comes
He will find me gone
Hell look for a place to sit
My wife has burned the scrambled eggs
The dog just bit my leg
My teenage daughter ran away
My fine young son has turned out gay
Cut off my fingers in the
Door of my car
How could I do it?
My wife is proud to tell me
Of her love affairs
How could she do this to me?
My wife has burned the scrambled eggs
The dog just bit my leg
My teenage daughter ran away
My fine young son has turned out gay
And it would be ok on any other day
And it would be ok on any other day
Throw down the morning papers
And spill my tea
I dont know whats wrong with me
The cups and plates are in a
Conspiracy
Im covered in misery
My wife has burned the scrambled eggs
The dog just bit my leg
My teenage daughter ran away
My fine young son has turned out gay
And it would be ok on any other day
And it would be ok on any other day
And it would be ok on any other day
song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Secret Door
The Mystery
Nadia, gentle zephyr of remembrance, where are you now?
In my mother’s flat there were three doors, the first door,
with an old fashion copper handle, often slammed in anger.
The second door into mother’s bed room was never closed,
but covered with a dark curtain. A small flat I slept on a sofa
in the living room.
There was a third door, from her bedroom into the kitchen.
Sometimes when mother was out, I tried to open it but it was
always locked. There were nights when I wasn’t sure if awake
or not, the locked door opened as a sigh of ancient dreams.
Dawn, I heard the faint sound again, but I was too terrified to
know the truth of what I wasn’t sure of
Morning, mother got up boiled water poured it into a bowl so
I could wash my face. Breakfast, slices of yesterday’s loaf with
strawberry jam and milky coffee. I wanted to know of the sighs
in the night, but sensed it was forbidden to ask.
Time has many doors some will be forever locked, so I ask?
Nadia, gentle zephyr of remembrance, where are you now?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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A glimpse
a glimpse
the half opened door
some would say
a half closed door
it all depends on the
state of mind you are in
well half closed for pessismist
and half opened for optimist
half opened or half closed door
so long as it is open
and not close
a good exercise for the mind
of a story teller, novelist, a film maker
a glimpse at the half closed door
the mind is thrown open
like the kick you would give
a half opened door
so that you and pet cat could
glide through easily
the stories that start coming out
from a glimpse at the half opened door
agatha's murdered corpse lying behind
a stalker, a ghost in the corridor of the mind
from the glimpse of the half closed door
a million possibilities, ideas pouring forth
half closed door, half opened door
whichever way you may say
it is an opened door
a million stories, ideas, possibilities
knock at the door of my mind
a glimpse of the half closed, half opened door
my half closed half opened eyes
open themselves to my ever curious mind
boundless as the universe
inspired by
A Glimpse
A GLIMPSE, through an interstice caught,
Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room, around the stove,
late of a winter night-And I unremark'd seated in a corner;
Of a youth who loves me, and whom I love, silently approaching, and
seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand;
A long while, amid the noises of coming and going-of drinking and
oath and smutty jest,
There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little,
perhaps not a word.
Walt Whitman
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Soil Is A Soul Of Life
Soil what is soil Lord?
soil is life seed
soil is a living organism
soil is a loom
from which you were made
dust you were dust you will be
Soil what is soil Scientist?
soil is a critical
part
of an ecosystem
soil provides
important nutrients
for plants in
an ecosystem
soil helps
anchor
plants
to keep
plants
in place
soil absorbs
holds water
for plants
soil absorbs
holds water
for animals
lakes rivers
to use
soil provides
a home
for many species
lots of living
organisms
soil
regenerates life
dust you were dust you will be
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Too Up, Two Down
Two up two down terrace town, heading far away
Well I just deserted but Ive seen that road before
Two up two down terrace town, roll on salad days
Well Im a mighty lorne greene to mow
Oh oh! better let me grow
Youre bringing me up, holding me down
The looks, the sighs and the frowns
So this time Im on my own!
Its eyes down look in but dont you ever turn back
(back to front in the back to backs) and its no big deal
From a heartless jack
Who keeps cheating the cards
And splitting the deck
Youre bringing me up, holding me down
The looks, the sighs and the frowns
So this time Im on my own!
Just watch me go
Too up too down terrace town, numbing all the senses
Well I just left home but Ive seen that porch before
Well, Im too up too down terrace town, leaning on defences
But Im a ruddy lorne greene to mow so now
Youd better let me grow
Youre bringing me up, holding me down
Stick in the mud, face in the ground
So this time Im on my own
Oh this time Im on my own
Building you up
Pulling me down
Sick of the glares, the flairs and the browns
So this time Im on my own
Oh this time Im on my own.
Too up too down
Too up two down
song performed by by Haircut 100
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Journeys Traveled
I have traveled many places
from here to there almost every where
seen places and people, never thought i would
from army bases to castles to to the sands of a desert
peace time to war time and lonely times
traveled by planes, trains, buses, taxis, cars and foot
the splendid mountain to the sand dunes
extreme cold to the scorching heat
one thing I take from all these journeys
is remember to take in everything you can
the mind will absorb anything you want.
mental pictures of beautiful scenery, gorgeous people
crowds in the streets to the loneliest path
breathe taking ever so lasting
make every journey unique and interesting
fun and learning come hand in hand
the stories you can tell of past visits
they can be past down thru the family line
to show how much each journey meant to you
pictures tell a 1000 words, but stories bring it to life
imaginations can bring the journeys to everyone's mind
enjoy each one as we all take the many beautiful journeys thru life
my journeys all come back home with me
for i love to tell the story to everyone around
good or bad the stories are told
For to see you express a smile or a tear
brings joy to me, my journeys tales will always live
poem by Michael Peterson
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The Road to Avignon
A Minstrel stands on a marble stair,
Blown by the bright wind, debonair;
Below lies the sea, a sapphire floor,
Above on the terrace a turret door
Frames a lady, listless and wan,
But fair for the eye to rest upon.
The minstrel plucks at his silver strings,
And looking up to the lady, sings: --
Down the road to Avignon,
The long, long road to Avignon,
Across the bridge to Avignon,
One morning in the spring.
The octagon tower casts a shade
Cool and gray like a cutlass blade;
In sun-baked vines the cicalas spin,
The little green lizards run out and in.
A sail dips over the ocean's rim,
And bubbles rise to the fountain's brim.
The minstrel touches his silver strings,
And gazing up to the lady, sings: --
Down the road to Avignon,
The long, long road to Avignon,
Across the bridge to Avignon,
One morning in the spring.
Slowly she walks to the balustrade,
Idly notes how the blossoms fade
In the sun's caress; then crosses where
The shadow shelters a carven chair.
Within its curve, supine she lies,
And wearily closes her tired eyes.
The minstrel beseeches his silver strings,
And holding the lady spellbound, sings: --
Down the road to Avignon,
The long, long road to Avignon,
Across the bridge to Avignon,
One morning in the spring.
Clouds sail over the distant trees,
Petals are shaken down by the breeze,
They fall on the terrace tiles like snow;
The sighing of waves sounds, far below.
A humming-bird kisses the lips of a rose
Then laden with honey and love he goes.
The minstrel woos with his silver strings,
And climbing up to the lady, sings: --
Down the road to Avignon,
The long, long road to Avignon,
Across the bridge to Avignon,
One morning in the spring.
Step by step, and he comes to her,
Fearful lest she suddenly stir.
Sunshine and silence, and each to each,
The lute and his singing their only speech;
He leans above her, her eyes unclose,
The humming-bird enters another rose.
The minstrel hushes his silver strings.
Hark! The beating of humming-birds' wings!
Down the road to Avignon,
The long, long road to Avignon,
Across the bridge to Avignon,
One morning in the spring.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Welcome Home You
Welcome Home You i'm glad to see your alright
Welcome Home You how was the drive and flight
Welcome Home You was it rough over there
Welcome Home You my love had traveled and brought you home
Welcome Home You my knight returning from war
Welcome Home You my heart forever more
Welcome Home You, Don't leave again
Welcome Home You i'm alone until i hear the knock at the door
Goodbye You you won't be home anymore
poem by Ashley Light
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After The Sunset
After the sunset,
When slowly the darkness crept
And the sky was covered with a star studded veil.
I sat on the terrace with a cocktail.
As I sipped the moon came up,
I heard a bird chirp.
The air was mildly fragrant
And the aura soul stirring and pregnant/
As i went over my day,
I spotted the Milky Way.
My childhood flashed across my mind,
When under the sky I lay besides
My siblings and chased the fire flies,
With my darting eyes.
Wistfully I wondered when did I see them last?
The memories from the past-
Raat ki rani, beat of drums,
And strains of soulful song being sung,
By a weary labourer after a hard day.
It was sheer magic in those warm nights in May
Those sounds and sights
Were the joys of the night.
I recalled with a sigh
In those days long gone by.
Now in our overcrowded rooms,
We try to dispel the gloom.
Watch TV or read
And drift into a fitful sleep.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Sad Story
The old house stood in silence,
no one lives there anymore.
Only memories of the past,
fill each empty room.
Once you stood so proud,
laughter rang out from your walls.
Now only cobwebs and decay inherit there.
What sad story has lead to your decline?
The lights from your windows,
don’t shine there anymore.
Only ghosts from the past,
live in every room.
Ghosts that once brought laughter.
That rang out every night,
are silent and no more
What sad story marks your fall from grace?
Once upon a time,
children played outside your door.
Now only weeds and brambles,
fall across your welcome path.
No more the smiling faces,
greet everyone at your door.
Now that sadness and neglect has fell.
What sad story do you have to tell?
Were there newlyweds,
with their hopes so high?
Did they have their hopes dashed some how,
or was it some great tragedy,
that within your walls befell?
So tragic that it made the silence fall.
What made them desert you to neglect?
What was the sad story, pray tell?
6 April 2007
poem by David Harris
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Star power
Expecting disagreement
New thought came
The door opened for those
Who wanted something
And they entertained.
Embarking on a journey
The journey of imagination
Affection reputation
New thought arrived
At my door and I
Entertained with all
Disagreements therein.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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One Of These Days
Wish someone would tell me when
I wont think of you again
Ill get past the emptiness and
Let a little happiness back in
Pretending that you came
Leaves me half way there
One of these one of these days
Ill be completely over you
Heaven knows how long it will take
And one of these one of these days
Ill find somebody wholl love your memories away
One of these days
One of these days
Some how some way
Ever since youve been gone
Time has a way of dragging on and on
Friends drive by for company
But Im not much company for long
Oh ill get past the what was
If I live long enough
One of these one of these days
Ill be completely over you
Heaven knows how long it will take
And one of these one of these days
Ill find somebody wholl love your memories away some way
One of these days
One of these days
Some how some way
One of these one of these days
Ill be completely over you
Heaven knows how long it will take
And one of these one of these days
Ill find somebody wholl love your memories away some way
One of these days
One of these days one of these days
One of these days some how some way
One of these days one of these days
song performed by by LeAnn Rimes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Barn at Willoughby's Farm
I have this recurring nightmare where
I'm wandering round a farm,
It's out in the middle of nowhere, just
A milking shed and a barn,
An ancient tractor sits by the house
But the blinds are pulled and drawn,
And it seems that the farmer left this place
Before Jacinth was born.
But ever I see her stand and wave
As she climbed aboard the bus,
Off for a life of adventure, not
Stuck here, like one of us,
She'd always wanted the country life
Away from the city's swell,
The day that she waved goodbye to us
Was my first real glimpse of hell!
‘Once I've settled, I'll write, ' she said,
‘Or else, there's always the phone;
I'll try to ring on a Friday night
When I'll catch you all at home! '
But she didn't ring, and she didn't write
And a month went by so soon,
She'd left in the middle of March, at night,
And then it was almost June!
I called on out to the agency
The office was next to the zoo,
She said they'd found her a pretty farm
That wanted a Jillaroo,
She'd cook and clean for the family,
And then work out on the farm,
Herding the lowing milkers in
To the milking shed by the barn.
The woman flicked through the client file
In a search for Jacinth's name,
She said, ‘That's strange, I've re-arranged
This file, but just the same,
I have no recollection of this
Girl, whatever she's called,
It could be another agency…'
But I thought the woman stalled!
I went to call at the depot where
The buses were parked at night,
I looked up the owner driver that
I'd seen when Jacinth took flight,
‘I don't remember the girl, ' he said,
‘But March was a fair way back,
She probably went to Willoughby's Farm
On the Strzelecki track.'
My heart sank into my boots at that,
I'd heard of that barren track,
There wasn't a working farm out there
Just bush and the bleak outback,
I packed up the old Toyota Ute
With a jerry can or two,
And headed on up to the Flinders
As I thought she'd want me to.
They hadn't seen her in Lyndhurst
What was left of the old ghost town,
I drove on up to Farina where
The buildings were falling down,
Then by the track on a tyre that sat
At the edge, on a pile of sand,
‘Five miles to Willoughby's Farm', the scrawl
Was writ in a shaky hand.
The farm was ruined and derelict,
The milking shed and the barn,
The tractor sat in a pile of rust
By the house of the ancient farm,
The roof had gone, had fallen in
But the barn was still intact,
And covered in dust by the old barn door
Was Jacinth's haversack.
I pushed the door and it opened up
With a creak of ages past,
I thought of the sweat on the farmer's brow
As he turned away, at the last,
But there in dry, brown dust of the floor
Was a slight but recent mound,
And a shovel leant by the cattle pen
As I fell on my knees, to the ground!
I have this recurring nightmare where
I'm wandering round a farm,
It's out in the middle of nowhere, just
A milking shed and a barn,
And the tears stream in this dreadful dream
To remember the pain and hurt;
With one last look at the haversack,
The shovel bit into the dirt!
15 August,2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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