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Liz Rossi Mar 24
i took the morning train today.
hushed city streets and
sweater-grey skies,
clouds like milk in coffee.
a flurry of wings, silent strangers,
heads down, umbrellas up,
sunshine dreams and briefcases.

i took the morning train today.
left the city behind me,
grey walls and grey pavement
and grey concrete skies.
red buses, black taxis,
camera clicks and glinting lenses,
crumbling walls and lost tourists.

i took the morning train today.
watched as the city fell away
behind the horizon,
rain drumming on the glass.
somewhere, birdsong
and the glint of blue skies
beckons me home.
fray narte Mar 7
My heart is a shrivel of miagos bushes,
uprooted, shoved, chucked in new soil;
the leaves between my lips,
now, in an unhealthy shade of chartreuse.

Regardless, I have taught myself
to shear them into tiny leaf crumbs,
making trails —
marking the houses, the buildings,
the roads of this foreign city,
safekeeping directions
into a catalog of things that aren't home.

My feet are weary and somehow,
they manage to find their way
back in this cold, oppressive room.
And yet, how does one sleep under the glare of these walls?
How does one revive a dying garden
in a city that only knows
the language of tires as they kiss the pavements,
in a city that only knows
the walis tingting's weary sweeping
of these crumbs of miagos leaves —
the ones leading back home?

Yes,

I can teach my tongue and all its browning, dying leaves
to remember these new ways of growth,
these new words, new schedules,
new routes, new streets.

Alas, even the waters, even the sun
can't teach it to love the language it doesn't speak.
Pulse Apr 2019
i miss the days when i was little
i miss thinking i had a home
home is safety and love and i miss that
i miss thinking i had something safe, something loving
ignorance is bliss until it swallows you whole.
because i never had a home.
i had a trap,
one that covered all its sharp edges and malicious nature,
with honeyed words and sugared actions.
one that hurt me and tore me down
while in the same breath giving me just a big enough shred of love to keep me pliant and obedient.
to keep me blind.
to make me become my own destruction

this is a poem of hiraeth my dear,
it is an acknowledgement of something i miss and something i want and something i have never had.

this is a poem of longing for a place that i can call my home,
a home where i need not worry for my safety,
where i need not be scarred.

maybe one day—
for now, the hiraeth settles into my bones and keeps its grip on my heart
in a house that is not a home,
and an empty feeling in my soul
hiraeth:  A homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was.
neptune Mar 2019
Hiraeth - A welsh word that means homesickness for a home that never was.
I wonder what home did he,
Who made this word, mean or
What you think when you read it.
Was he thinking about a person?
I like to think he was.
But then again,
As the word rolls around my mouth,
You cross my mind.
Muneeb Ur Rehman Feb 2019
late at night
laying on bed
staring the ceiling
as the cigarette's ash falls down
tear rolls down from the eyes
making me fall apart
with the feeling of
homesickness
Emilia Jan 2019
I love this filthy city with all of my ****** heart.

The sweltering summer streets (the buildings themselves sweat),
Where the 'cool' breeze is still thirty-four degrees,
And you can't walk a metre without needing an icy drink,
The sewage smell permeates through the pavement.

The bitterly cold winters that numb your lips (slur your words for you--drunken in love with her),
Frozen lakes and frosted branches in Regent's park,
I love her icy kiss more than I love myself--more than I have ever loved anything.

But I must leave, you need to know.

I can't stay, I'm sorry,
It will **** me.

She has her hands around my neck,
She strangles me with her embrace,
As she tells me--softly--how softly she loves me.

London, I'm sorry.

I was not built for the built environment,
My heart belongs in muddy fields under skies full of fresh air and clean sunsets,
I yearn for the sensation of dirt and leaves under bare feet.

How cruel,
To fall in love with a place where you don't belong.
not 2 b edgy but we had a trip into the city centre and on the way home i realised how much im gonna miss this place when i go to uni, london is a lesbian
William Marr Nov 2018
pulled yourself up by the roots

then violently shook off

the clinging dirt

you who like to travel

let yourself go wandering

and find yourself again and again

in an unaccustomed climate



grasping your hand

I can feel the roots

that crave sunlight and water

climb up my arms

and cling to my heart

******* greedily

the remnant water droplets

from our moist homeland soil
Lhb Oct 2018
I keep losing things that I never had.
I feel homesick in places that feel a lot like home.
I find light in the dark spaces between stars.
The moon is screaming back all the secrets I howled.
I swear that at this moment everything feels like nothing.
And no matter how hard I pinch myself, it still feels nothing like reality.
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