1. Take Me Home
In the summer of '32
A little boy, 6 years old,
Separated from his Mama
In a five and ten-cent store,
"Home is the place when you go there, they have to take you in." In western society, most people move away from their family of origin. In spite of this fact, it is good to know that the home of your youth is still there. It is nice to know that our parents are still living there, and that your bedroom is just as you left it. This provides a certain of stability as you struggle to build your own house and home. Eventually it is likely that your parents will sell the family home and begin their retirement years. You may feel that that the home that you have established has fully become your real home.
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It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home,
A heap o' sun an' shadder, an' ye sometimes have t' roam
Afore ye really 'preciate the things ye lef' behind,
An' hunger fer 'em somehow, with 'em allus on yer mind.
"Home" seems to capture so many concepts that both test families and bond them together. I heard this poem read by my aunts and uncles many times at family gatherings. It became ingrained in...
Often I think of the beautiful town
That is seated by the sea;
Often in thought go up and down
The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
I was born in a village away from the busy city. My village was blessed with many natural resources like streams, mountains, and small scale waterfalls. Most of the villagers were farmers....
What have you seen in your hundred years?
If asked, what would you say,
Of the dozen families that lived in your walls,
Of the hundreds of children at play?
Thank you! So very glad you enjoyed it. As a former realtor, I have walked in many an old house, and always enjoy stopping to listen to the silent stories the houses tell.....they are quite...
The shadows on my bedroom wall are growing dark and long.
I hear the voices rise and fall, their language harsh and strong.
Do they know I can hear their fight? Maybe they just don't care
that their child is locked in fright, heart pounding in both ears.
There is a sold sign on the lawn,
In front of the house where I was born.
Our family home where roots run deep,
With connections to cherish, to hold, to keep.
I'm so glad you commented on one of my poems, as it has led me to your own poems, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I very much like the photo you have put on your site and hope that one of these...
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