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Poems On / About HOME  11/29/2015 10:24:23 PM
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Best Poems About / On HOME
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I love to be at home by myself,

Because I do not have to worry about what I have to wear.

I love to be at home by myself,

So that I do not have to fight with my mother on what we are watching.

I love to be at home by myself,

So I can turn my music up all the way and not get yelled at.

I love to be at home by myself,

So I can sing in the shower as loud as I can.

I love to be at home by myself,

So I can just enjoy the tranquility as the time passes bye.
Kyle Balliet

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Waiting On Him

The night is black and thick like a dark heavy quilt is hanging from the sky that extinguishes all light
I lie in my silent, dark room, willing myself to be perfectly still, training my ears, straining to hear every car as it whistles quickly by, one after the other after the other after the other...
Forcing myself to listen for any slight slowdown that might indicate that he's finally home... he said he was coming home...yes, it's really him this time... in an eternity 2 or 3 seconds tick by...and then the car flies by just the same as the others...it's not him...but, wait...is the next car slowing down...
It's a sick, pathetic, weak sad, lonely game, the irony being that each car, that starts off as distant headlights, seemingly suspended from the sky, starting down the hill, could be him, anything is possible until that car whizzes by, to some other destination, to some other woman, waiting silently in the dark for her man to come home
It's a small insignificant feeling, like a speck of dust twirling around aimlessly in the universe
To be thought so little of, a lie is so easy to leave your lips, to not even get the courtesy of a phone call
And sometimes he never came home before dawn shoved its bright rays into my tired weary eyes and I had to face the harsh reality that he didn't care about me at all...
Each of those many cars that went by on those dark endless nights, each took a little bit of my heart with them until I lie bleeding and alone, destroyed inside, devastated by lies and false hope, unable to even get up again...I might as well be dead...waiting on him to come home...
Lesley St. Marys

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Homeward Bound

INTO the west of the waters on the living ocean’s foam,
Into the west of the sunset where the young adventurers roam,
Into the west of the shining star, I am sailing, sailing home;
Home from the lonely cities, time’s wreck, and the naked woe,
Home through the clean great waters where freemen’s pennants blow,
Home to the land men dream of, where all the nations go;
’T is home but to be on the waters, ’t is home already here,
Through the weird red-billowing sunset into the west to steer,
To fall asleep in the rocking dark with home a day more near.

By morning light the ship holds on, alive with happy freight,
A thousand hearts with one still joy, and with one hope elate,
To reach the land that mothered them and sweetly guides their fate;
Whether the purple furrow heaps the bows with dazzling spray,
Or buried in green-based masses they dip the storm-swept day,
Or the white fog ribbons o’er them, the strong ship holds her way;
And when another day is done, by the star of love we steer
To the land of all that we love best and all that we hold dear;
We are sailing westward, homeward; our western home is near.
George Edward Woodberry

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the home is where the heart is.
we always know where our hearts are.
we therefore know where that home is.
somehow, my heart is broken
and i have lost my home
and i do not know anymore where that home is.

until you come to my life, pointing to me that way to
my new home.
thank you.

Read more poems from RIC S. BASTASA >>>
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