the last poem for Ramon
from a long trip
he arrived home
feverish,
he said he needed
rest
a very long rest
in the ancestral house
of his father
where the trees are
old and tall
where the air is
refreshing
where the silence
is abundant
for he is tired
and wants to have
his much needed rest
it was too late for him
to know that he has
stage 4
for lung cancer
for which he succumbed
in his death bed
yesterday morning
in the ancestral house of
his father
his home away from
home now
away from wife
and his three children
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Home-Going
We must get home--for we have been away
So long it seems forever and a day!
And O so very homesick we have grown,
The laughter of the world is like a moan
In our tired hearing, and its songs as vain,--
We must get home--we must get home again!
We must get home: It hurts so, staying here,
Where fond hearts must be wept out tear by tear,
And where to wear wet lashes means, at best,
When most our lack, the least our hope of rest
When most our need of joy, the more our pain--
We must get home--we must get home again!
We must get home: All is so quiet there:
The touch of loving hands on brow and hair--
Dim rooms, wherein the sunshine is made mild---
The lost love of the mother and the child
Restored in restful lullabies of rain.--
We must get home--we must get home again!
We must get home, where, as we nod and drowse,
Time humors us and tiptoes through the house,
And loves us best when sleeping baby-wise,
With dreams--not tear-drops--brimming our clenched eyes,--
Pure dreams that know nor taint nor earthly stain--
We must get home--we must get home again!
We must get home; and, unremembering there
All gain of all ambitions otherwhere,
Rest--from the feverish victory, and the crown
Of conquest whose waste glory weighs us down.--
Fame's fairest gifts we toss back with disdain--
We must get home--we must get home again!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Song of Truce
Till the tread of marching feet
Through the quiet grass-grown street
Of the little town shall come,
Soldier, rest awhile at home.
While the banners idly hang,
While the bugles do not clang,
While is hushed the clamorous drum,
Soldier, rest awhile at home.
In the breathing-time of Death,
While the sword is in its sheath,
While the cannon's mouth is dumb,
Soldier, rest awhile at home.
Not too long the rest shall be.
Soon enough, to Death and thee,
The assembly call shall come.
Soldier, rest awhile at home.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Take Me Home Oh Father
Take me home oh Father, take me home,
For I've wandered this land You made alone.
No one understood of what I am,
Wasn't loved it seemed by beast or man.
Take me home oh Father, take me home,
My lifes' work seems over for me now.
I have done all You have asked of me,
Oh Dear Father do You hear my plea?
Take me home oh Father, take me home,
The pain is more than one can bare.
Take me home oh Father take me home,
To a place You promised if You care.
Take me home oh Father if You would,
For all my life I've tried to do what's good.
Take me home oh Father my life is done,
All has ended please now take me to Your Son.
poem by Linda Winchell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coming Back To My Little Home
I come late to my home.
As I approach it,
I watch for my behavior
my feelings
if they are clean, talk and stand straight.
i make sure
i have no unfinished
business left:
everything is said,
told,
and done.
my room,
my my street,
my neighbors,
the house number
the five street lights bulbs
and my old car
-I do not use or care to fix, -
my 64 feet square garden,
And the silence of the night
make me feel home
and welcomed
to rest,
take off my clothes, and
all the good feelings with it.
my home
my love home
the woman i always see
waiting for me
late,
the child i like to kiss,
the stuck of white papers
needed to be filled,
and the few
articles: the subject does not really matter!
my home
my kitchen
my spared cans
and little milk
a loaf of bread that fills my eyes and hunger;
A jar of herbal tea i managed to make
my home and
my bed
stretching itself over my room
my home
my canvases
need to be recycled
recolored
and reborn
again,
again, and again.
poem by Atef Ayadi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Take The Long Way Home
So you think youre a romeo
Playing a part in a picture-show
Take the long way home
Take the long way home
Cos youre the joke of the neighborhood
Why should you care if youre feeling good
Take the long way home
Take the long way home
But there are times that you feel youre part of the scenery
All the greenery is comin down, boy
And then your wife seems to think youre part of the
Furniture oh, its peculiar, she used to be so nice.
When lonely days turn to lonely nights
You take a trip to the city lights
And take the long way home
Take the long way home
You never see what you want to see
Forever playing to the gallery
You take the long way home
Take the long way home
And when youre up on the stage, its so unbelievable,
Unforgettable, how they adore you,
But then your wife seems to think youre losing your sanity,
Oh, calamity, is there no way out?
Does it feel that you lifes become a catastrophe?
Oh, it has to be for you to grow, boy.
When you look through the years and see what you could
Have been oh, what might have been,
If youd had more time.
So, when the day comes to settle down,
Whos to blame if youre not around?
You took the long way home
You took the long way home...........
song performed by by Supertramp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come Home, Father!
'Tis The
SONG OF LITTLE MARY,
Standing at the bar-room door
While the shameful midnight revel
Rages wildly as before.
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes one;
You said you were coming right home from the shop,
As soon as your day's work was done.
Our fire has gone out our house is all dark
And mother's been watching since tea, --
With poor brother Benny so sick in her arms,
And no one to help her but me. --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes two;
The night has grown colder, and Benny is worse
But he has been calling for you.
Indeed he is worse Ma says he will die,
Perhaps before morning shall dawn; --
And this is the message she sent me to bring
"Come quickly, or he will be gone." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes three;
The house is so lonely the hours are so long
For poor weeping mother and me.
Yes, we are alone poor Benny is dead,
And gone with the angels of light; --
And these were the very last words that he said
"I want to kiss Papa good night." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Our House
Father wears his sunday best
Mothers tired she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sisters sighing in her sleep
Brothers got a date to keep
He cant hang around
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Our house it has a crowd
Theres always something happening
And its usually quite loud
Our mum shes so house-proud
Nothing ever slows her down
And a mess is not allowed
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Something tells you that youve got to get away from it
Father gets up late for work
Mother has to iron his shirt
Then she sends the kids to school
Sees them off with a small kiss
Shes the one theyre going to miss
In lots of ways
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
I remember way back then when everything was true and when
We would have such a very good time such a fine time
Such a happy time
And I remember how wed play simply waste the day away
Then wed say nothing would come between us two dreamers
Father wears his sunday best
Mothers tired she needs a rest
The kids are playing up downstairs
Sisters sighing in her sleep
Brothers got a date to keep
He cant hang around
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our ...
Our house, was our castle and our keep
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, that was where we used to sleep
Our house, in the middle of our street
Our house, in the middle of our street
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Home
So many people
Do not have a home
Sure they have a house
But not each house is home
They say home
Is where the heart is
Not cushions and a rug
But smiles and a kiss
They look hard for love
The house walls them in
They embrace the streets
Trying to ignore the din
Where can my soul rest
From the nagging pain
Where can I go to escape
From feeling the loss again?
poem by Samuel Nze
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Home, sweet home is home with daddy!
I look at the familiar house I call home
I am back home, sweet home after the journey
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!
I look at Daddy's children, full of expectations
The young man with soiled hands, still jumping on Daddy
The young lady wanting to tell Daddy all the stories of school
It does not matter that Daddy is tired! Daddy is always daddy
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!
I know I have to travel again from home tomorrow
I may go to the nice places, be they palaces or hotels
Marble floors sparkling with reflections of cleanliness
But they are not as homely as home with daddy
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!
I look at everybody wanting to know about the trip of daddy
Everybody wants to know what daddy has brought
Everybody is happy to see daddy home
Daddy is always strong, no tiredness even when tired
Home, sweet home is home with daddy!
poem by Nyota Yasulwe
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Mothers’ Day ‘08
North or south; east or west;
A mother’s love is always best!
Throughout its childhood, cleaned and dressed,
A mother gives baby, good rest.
A mother is the love-pillar;
A father is the source of strength;
A child is like caterpillar,
Metamorphosing in its length!
A mother keeps the home happy;
A mother cleans the babe’s nappy;
A mother tends to dear daddy;
A mom-less home cannot be sweet!
The angel in the house is mom!
The toiler of the home is mom;
The cleaner in the house is mom;
She knows all problems but keeps mum!
The chief-cook in the house is mom;
The teacher in the house is mom;
The care-taker is also mom;
She knowingly is sometimes dumb!
A spoilt-kid’s mom had spared the rod;
As children’s friend, mother looks odd;
For most things, mothers give the nod;
A mother is a demi-god!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-11-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is Never A Home For A Vagabond
you arrive from a long trip
you take the stairs back home
the sound of the jet plane
still hounds your ears
you step into a garden
and the grass tells you
with each
blade that you have not arrived
at all
it is always strange
always
you miss home but there is really no home
when you step upon
the floor of the house
you plea for
a home but there is really no home
no little boy meets you and calls your name
no little girl dances for you
what you have are the dogs
and they have their own language for missing you
but they are never enough
when you arrive
in a moment after putting all your
dirty clothes in the bin
you pack again for shirts and shorts and
rubber shoes
the long way behind the kitchen
door
gives you another map for escape
you forget home
there is never one
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unwanted Children
when i looked into this childs eyes
i saw the hurt, the pain, and i began to cry.
it was a house of despair
the homeless and unwanted children
all lived there.
all their lives they searched for love
and a place to live
so much love they had to give.
all they wanted or needed
was a loving family.
is this too much to ask from you or me?
how can we go to bed, when they
have no place to rest their heads.
how can we expect these children to survive
when we turn our backs
and close our eyes.
i heard adults say: why should i shed a tear
for a child i did not conceive.
why should i be the one to bereave.
do we still not cry for the death of CHRIST?
he was conceived by another.
wouldn't you be proud
to have been his father or mother?
GOD put all these children on this earth
more than gold i think they; re worth.
let's get them out of that house of despair
and show them all that we do care.
a lttle step goes a long way
and it'll be done day by day.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come On Home
Beautiful day
Shined when I needed that most
Shined on the church yard
Tin cans full of gold
Come on home
Its not too late
We can fall apart together
Beautiful girls smiled
When I needed it the most
Smiled on my heavy eyelids again
Come on home
Its not too late
You can fall apart together
Come on home
Its not too late
We can fall apart together
Fall apart together
Fall apart together
Fall apart together
Ooh dont wait to long
Come on home
Its not too late
We can fall apart together
Come on home
Oh baby Its not too late
We can fall apart together
Fall apart together
song performed by by Natalie Imbruglia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Long Vacation
To Amy Wainwright
This is the time the boys come home from school,
Filling the house with gay and happy noise,
Never at rest from morn till evening cool --
All the roads of the world bring home the boys.
This is the time -- but still they are not come;
The mothers stand in the doorway listening long;
Long, long they shall wait ere the boys come home.
Where do they tarry, the dear, the light-heart throng?
Their feet are heavy as lead and deep their rest.
The mothers watch the road till set of sun;
But nevermore the birds fly back to the nest.
The roads of the world run Heavenward every one.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Millworker
Now my grandfather was a sailor
He blew in off the water
My father was a farmer
And i, his only daughter
Took up with a no good millworking man
From massachusetts
Who dies from too much whiskey
And leaves me these three faces to feed
Millwork aint easy
Millwork aint hard
Millwork it aint nothing
But an awful boring job
Im waiting for a daydream
To take me through the morning
And put me in my coffee break
Where I can have a sandwich
And remember
Then its me and my machine
For the rest of the morning
For the rest of the afternoon
And the rest of my life
Now my mind begins to wander
To the days back on the farm
I can see my father smiling at me
Swinging on his arm
I can hear my granddads stories
Of the storms out on lake eerie
Where vessels and cargos and fortunes
And sailors lives were lost
Yes, but its my life has been wasted
And I have been the fool
To let this manufacturer
Use my body for a tool
I can ride home in the evening
Staring at my hands
Swearing by my sorrow that a young girl
Ought to stand a better chance
So may I work the mills just as long as I am able
And never meet the man whose name is on the label
It be me and my machine
For the rest of the morning
And the rest of the afternoon
Gone for the rest of my life
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father Death Blues
Hey Father Death, I'm flying home
Hey poor man, you're all alone
Hey old daddy, I know where I'm going
Father Death, Don't cry any more
Mama's there, underneath the floor
Brother Death, please mind the store
Old Aunty Death Don't hide your bones
Old Uncle Death I hear your groans
O Sister Death how sweet your moans
O Children Deaths go breathe your breaths
Sobbing breasts'll ease your Deaths
Pain is gone, tears take the rest
Genius Death your art is done
Lover Death your body's gone
Father Death I'm coming home
Guru Death your words are true
Teacher Death I do thank you
For inspiring me to sing this Blues
Buddha Death, I wake with you
Dharma Death, your mind is new
Sangha Death, we'll work it through
Suffering is what was born
Ignorance made me forlorn
Tearful truths I cannot scorn
Father Breath once more farewell
Birth you gave was no thing ill
My heart is still, as time will tell.
poem by Allen Ginsberg
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How Mother Made Us A Home
our navels were cut
and they were tied
on one of the strong
walls of this house
where we were born
and since then
mother takes pride
about our missing
a home that where
ever we are scattered
by fate we always come
back and feel and fill
what is missing inside
us.This is home.
This is where mother
died and father too
and the rest of us
shall also be buried
here when we finally
die. This is country.
This is life and
This is death. This
is our meaning and
This is where we shall
always be forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Last Ride
It's the last ride
Our little game is over
It's the last ride
It's time to take you home
And we can't cry 'cause we seen it coming
No use running, take it slower
It's a dangerous drive
I'm afraid to arrive
But I strive to survive
More a fool than alive
I thought I knew just everything
I had it made and I could coast
But I turned away love when I needed it most
It's the last ride
My little game is over
It's the last ride
It's time to take me home
And I can't cry 'cause I seen it coming
No use running, take it slower
And the road rolls around
And turns through the town
The depression drips down
And glazes the ground
Horizons east and skylines west
The moon, the sun, and all the rest
The loving son, the faithful wife
The burnt out wreck of a poor man's life
The father, son, and holy ghost
They all turned away love when they needed it most
It's the last ride
Their little game is over
It's the last ride
It's time to take them home
And they can't cry 'cause they seen it coming
No use running, take it slower
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Millworker
(james taylor)
Now my grandfather was a sailor,
He blew in off the water
My father was a farmer
I, his only daughter,
Took up with a no-good millworking man from massachusetts
Who dies from too much whiskey
And leaves me these three faces to feed
Millwork aint easy; mill-work aint hard
Millwork, it aint nothing but an awful boring job
Im waiting for a day dream
To take me through the morning
And put me in my coffee break
Where I can have a sandwich and remember
Then its me and my machine
For the rest of the morning
For the rest of the afternoon
And the rest of my life
Now my mind begins to wander
To the days back on the farm
I can see my father smiling at me,
Swingin on his arm
I can hear my grand-dads stories
Of the storms out on lake erie
Where vessels and cargos and fortunes
And sailors lives were lost
Yes, but its my life has been wasted,
And I have been the fool
To let this manufacture use my body for a tool.
I can ride home in the evening,
Staring at my hands
Swearing by my sorrow that a young girl
Ought to stand a better chance
So may I work the mills
Just as long as I am able
And never meet the man whose
Name is on the label
It be me and my machine
For the rest of the morning
For the rest of the afternoon
And the rest of my life
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Ride
Its the last ride
Our little game is over
Its the last ride
Its time to take you home
And we cant cry cause we seen it coming
No use running, take it slower
Its a dangerous drive
Im afraid to arrive
But I strive to survive
More a fool than alive
I thought I knew just everything
I had it made and I could coast
But I turned away love when I needed it most
Its the last ride
My little game is over
Its the last ride
Its time to take me home
And I cant cry cause I seen it coming
No use running, take it slower
And the road rolls around
And turns through the town
The depression drips down
And glazes the ground
Horizons east and skylines west
The moon, the sun, and all the rest
The loving son, the faithful wife
The burnt out wreck of a poor mans life
The father, son, and holy ghost
They all turned away love when they needed it most
Its the last ride
Their little game is over
Its the last ride
Its time to take them home
And they cant cry cause they seen it coming
No use running, take it slower
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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