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Poems On / About HOME  9/1/2015 11:22:18 PM
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  197.     

Alone

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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  198.     

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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  199.     

Home

It's a long way home, fifty years or more.
Or just round the corner and under a bus,
perchance the heart or cancerous curse.

It's a long way home, my eyes long to rest.
Or am I home now and you’ve simply left,
I will only know when I am warm once more.

It's a long way home, a long, long way,
to heaven and the bliss of your touch.
You will forever be with me but so far away,
It's a long way home to your love.


13th November 2002
 
Andrew Whittaker

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  200.     

On The Road Home

You are on the road Home
Because this is not your Real Home

Where you are now is only a shadow of your Real Home
Everthing is perfect in your Real Home

In your Real Home, there is no need to sleep or eat
It is a place where all your pets, family and friends
you will meet

So do your best you can here because you will be there soon
You will be there in not too many a moon

March 26,2006, Clarence A. Graham, Jr.
 
Clarence A. Graham, Jr.

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