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As we grow,
We mature.
Our ideas change,
So does our nature.
I don't want to instigate,
As much as I want to love now.
I used to want to rule an empire,
But now I'll settle for common things.
Settle down with my queen,
I'll last forever, if she lets me.

As we grow,
We lose touch.
Of each little thing we know,
Everything we loved so much.
I no longer feel aggression,
The same way I feel peace.
I may be tired,
But I'm just tuckered out,
I've learned to sleep.
Things change as we grow, I'll quote Echo here, "Thank God for digital cameras."
Life is a series of tiring verbs
as I wade through the
ashes of orchids.
I'm a vagabond with
a ragged soul
coming for you *******
a lonesome road.
I float aimless,
like an acorn in
a mountain stream.
The death of dreams smells
like autumn leaves,
lonely as driftwood.

Home is not going to be
a white door at the
end of a sidewalk.
It's bigger and broader,
and can't fit behind a
fence and walls.
It will always be the
sum of my
memories and longings.

Home is walking the streets,
hand in hand,
with our son on my shoulders.
Home is lying in
the grass with your
fingers in my beard, and hope
oozing from your blue eyes.
It's eating sushi and laughing at
our accidental touch of hands,
reaching together for
the last California roll;
avocado safe at
a sun-dappled table.

I'm drifting lost on
a southern wind.
When I'm with you again,
wherever that is,
I'll be home.
(Repost)
Here is a link to my latest poetry reading on youtube.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ryqLr9ehn7Q

I've seen you become
and then change,

and then again,
come back to me

through the same
doors.

As I have come
back to yours.

You were the sky,
the warm floors,

endless days
of summer—

the ones I spent
nestling inside
your arms.

And the way the
city looked when I
stood,

resting in your
calm.

My favorite place
in the world—

I keep telling
everybody

how you were my
special place,

how the world
felt when I looked
over your shoulder.

Where else will I ever
taste the winds of August
caressing my hair?

The many stars that
watched me grow into
an autumn of my own,

or the thousand times
I smiled, laughed,
and cried.

How will anything
ever be the same
without you?

Will you keep being
my home?

When I pass you
by,

will you keep being
my home?

After the tears
have dried,

will you keep being
my home?

After our final
goodbyes,

will you keep being
my home?

Will you keep being
my home?


Emery Feine Feb 10
You feel like light.
You feel like foam.
You feel so bright.
You feel like home.
the forever shelter to the storm
Poets coming into Rochester,
Welcome to the perfect poetic city!
We're dark in November,
Blinding in May.
Sleepy streets,
Winding roads.
Dinner at a diner,
Welcome to your second home, it's a winner's city for sure.
If you ever come to Rochester I suggest you come in the summer or fall. Stay up late and wake up early, eat at the diners (not the chain ones), visit the pier down at Seabreeze, and make sure to get an air bnb so you can have a backyard fire late into the night.
Vianne Lior Feb 10
I used to dream of
distant shores,
where the waves could drown
everything I couldn't bury,
until
the day I dreamed of
home,
and realized it was just
a graveyard
for what I never let go.
Never enough for them
Lostling Feb 10
I fear not the freezing nights on my lonesome
Nor the sad return to an empty house
Nor the burn of the blazing sky
Nor the voices berating
(They don’t exist)
Nor the dark

Why?
For you are here
To save me from myself
And take me to another world
One where we can live in our memories
Memories we call safe, and safe is what you are
Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble there's no place like home!— John Howard Payne

To me, home isn’t a place, it’s a person.
Gaze on me now,
I'm not well known,
With my pen taps and frown.

Well the truth is,
I'm real well known,
This just ain't my town.
Finally made it to the weekend, hope everybody is having a great day!
Maria Feb 6
I want to go home so much!
I want to go to my open essence.
There’s coffee on the table. It’s undrunk.
And there’s my future, which is pure taintless.

I want to go home, to my place.
The time is ripe: my heart and soul are holed.
To hell with being along! I go home!
I am invisible. And here I am cold.
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