"homed" poems
The natural you and what about him
The Zen gold egg climber Prince
Got his "Godly" rinse of the hen
We always knew their way upon
our thinking "Jumping Jack Flash"
But to be the change the day single
let's be feasible naturally, we mingle
The Holy water medieval drinking
By the night call, something is moving
Like a creature not in human form
We need to meet our expectations
More spoken revelations and terms
Naturally, we were born to be told
we have the fire to move any force
Even when our bones are getting old
That powerful love but someone is
watching us above
With higher hopes will make
it through lovesick she coughs
The Passageway like a click of her heels
Feeling the beauty but climbing high
Naturally being cool with her sigh
Or the carriage day vintage wine
Her lucky wheel
World’s are invitation the engagement,
The sweet words or the terms of endearment
Be the Higher lover up in the Prince bow to her
A need to get higher inside the
Castle what a love hustle like a stampede
The rampage turning the ancient pages
Rock and roll ages or the Gothic pale
Victorian beauty her name Judy
Sir page the Grand Marnier
or change of pace human race
The drink Moet
High Mighty King singing
Her heart shape ring beating
Fresh-cut or worn out smoke put out
Brighten her pleasure the rose repose
To be born not a piece of paper torn
Like a Queen reborn
For love how its spoken not just
City Girl with her token for-God-sake
can you look through her
wing turned up she is curled up
in her new threads of sheets
eyes please she is not ready
to hear goodbyes to your beat
What do you read is she naturally
beautiful than or now
Her naturally glow lights up
The Shakespearian castle
Two nature healers, not the
same as card dealers
Butterflies the fireflies
Her love shape naturally
that's no lie
It comes naturally to be loved __
More like homed bakes muffin ___
Google the nature of things spoken but
they may not come
Please don't wait too long
Perhaps there is always someone
to copy your song
Be the climber love for who she is
Her vegetables her sensuality is quite
organically raw
She loves her side dish coleslaw
How nature made us in the womb
Naturally spoken things like her sub combo
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 10:22 AM UTC
There’s a sense of something really good this Christmas,
There’s a feeling in the air that it’s OK
The anticipation’s there about ….a happiness out there
And the weather outlook’s brilliant for the day.
Mother’s planning a big roast for Christmas dinner
There’ll be sparkles and bright spangles on the tree,
Underneath there’s quite a pile, gaily wrapped to bring a smile
And a kiss beneath the mistletoe for me?
Spare a thought for all poor souls who have nobody
Gift-wrap a parcel or two for the disowned,
To make some unknown person smile advances Christmas by a mile
And really brightens up the prospects for the un-homed.
It’s a day to gift good wishes to your loved ones
Share some cold beers in the sunshine on the deck,
And when we’ve eaten to excess and helped mum clean up the mess
There will be time to take a snooze…and what the heck!
So to all our friends, across this world, aplenty,
May we take this opportunity to say
We hope your Christmas be as good as we know it really should
And may Santa gift you happiness ….to stay!
MERRY CHRISTMAS
Love from Janet and Marshal.
“Foxglove”
Taranaki, New Zealand.
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 6:33 PM UTC
Today was celestial
Safe haven I've homed
Your hugs, calmly and warm
Securing me in our own little world
So delicate yet so ardent
Don't loosen that grip
I feel so strong yet so vulnerable at the same time.
Oh, just a brush past my skin,
A tight clasp around my wrists
I melt.
In your arms I find comfort
And in it, a piece of solace
I feel infinite
You made today ethereal.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 5:14 AM UTC
You partied hard when you could
Gold mini skirt and heels
But underneath the glamour
Were guts and nerves of steel
Home was fun and jolly japes
A lively social whirl
But work was war zones, scary scrapes
For our brave reporter girl
You found yourself in Libya
Met the mad dog's stare
He liked you, it was a feather in your cap
You made your name out there
Sri Lanka's where you lost an eye
To shrapnel flying in the dark
They thought you were a Tamil Tiger
Hiding in the grass
Back home someone told you off for smoking
Quick came your reply
Don't concern yourself, I promise you
That's not how I'll die
In Chechnya you made it out
Escaping with your life
As mortars fell you legged it
Eight days over mountain snow and ice
East Timor was your finest hour
Fifteen hundred people protected by too few
You refused to leave, they were saved
That was down to you
Luck ran out in Syria
You feared another massacre, tried to warn the world
So the shells once more homed in on you
And killed our brave reporter girl
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 6:26 PM UTC
to me it seems that the truly rich
are the contemplative,
the homed
are the ones
who can find a home
or create one
for someone else
the orphaned
are the ones who have forgotten
to look into the soul of the world
and one another's eyes
the blessed are the ones
who find themselves cradled
in the arms of the stars
feeling themselves more beloved
than anyone on earth
knowing the Creator
wishes everyone
to feel like that
knowing
love is waiting:
like a favorite woven hammock
in the jungle between the betel-nut and the soursop tree
like the tiny waves that seek the shore
to say hello over and over
to kiss the cheeks
of the hermit *****
like the seahorse clouds
brilliant orange and red
mirroring the ocean until
the whole world is a sunset,
i am in the sunset, i am the sunset
and the sun never really sets after all
it's bringing light to india
kenya hawai'i
it will
be back
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 6:22 PM UTC
“In sickness and in health
till death do us part”
She exploded in my heart
threw me off my feet
Across a living room filled
with nights only she can host
I spoke of her to those across the world
who will never experience what it is
to fall for a city
it is beyond patriotism
this ineffable love for a sleepless phenomenon
who homes strangers
shook the world
with shockwaves
that equaled the chemical imbalance
its people have for their city
Under the debris of sparkling glass
she was broken
there’s so much she can withstand
even when we always stand by her side
shards engrave themselves under thick skin
poking at the body that still believes in love at first breath
At a heart that does not know how to stop
At a will-power that questions its creator about its strength
At a body that homes an identity beyond this world
alien to it
toxicity hovered in lungs
And across skies
blushing clouds
turning them pink
Sunset wasn’t serene
The ocean cradled bodies
on their way to the afterlife
They cried salty tears
Fed up.
Her soil has felt the stomping anger of grieving mothers, fathers, husbands
families
the last words of suffocating victims who never lost hope till
The angels opened the doors of the sky
To welcome new brave souls into the heavens
to lead by example
their white coffins
wed the earth with the skies
they watch over us
Brooms brushed her face
Hands held others
Homes homed
Revolutionists revolted
Nooses were hung
judgment day is knocking
at our hearts
and mind you, we are known
for our hospitality
She cannot cry
She never did
It never suited her
But she sure knows how to roar
how to devour
parasites feeding at her immortality
I wear your ring around my finger
“In sickness and in health
till nothing does us part”
Aug 11, 2020
Aug 11, 2020 at 2:23 AM UTC
A gesture's worth a thousand words,
intimations of the body articulate:
my gas-passing interrogatives,
your inquisitive belches, remember?
At first, such unspoken jokes seemed crude,
though useful. So we refined them,
and from trees at night mock owl-calls homed you in.
Do you remember eyebrows, intelligent as lips?
In time, I developed tics, snarls, an expert shrug,
a professional groan. And I grew to resent
your sighs, your phony, irritated coughing fits,
the critical commentaries of your silences.
Mar 29, 2011
Mar 29, 2011 at 8:14 PM UTC
Another love poem? I ask myself.
*She's a red streak
where the waves froth her feet white
a girl scouring the sands for shells
in the ageless haze the sea spews
bending and rising like the doubt
if time by some quirk has stopped
and the slanting beach is that warped space
where for long has homed
all the free souls of the world
love being their only name.*
I walk up to her richer
by another love poem.
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 8:48 AM UTC
the road looks like two aisles of Christmas lights
all turning their sides into the dim night
asleep in the comfort of sheets
bought by people who love them
the dogs homed to the fences of my neighbors are all asleep
the mice and the raccoons are walking back home
the birds have whispered their prayers
the stray cats are done for the day
all in the tug of night
ready to sleep
but the ants
and the cockroaches
the flies
and spiders
are all out
restless
passing by sleeping children
and drunk men
lining up the instruments
setting up the dance
free and safe
words on a soldier's tongue before
residue and ripped cloth are hung by their guns and boots
I am awake in perfect harmony
a balance of night and day
of an agreement the moon and sun had in the beginning of time
I am a pest
reincarnated from a man who's days and nights
were whiskey and the smell of a hooker's breath
luck and karma spelled on the bents of my body
I was not a good man
and now
I am nothing more than a spec of darkness in your vast blue sky
nothing more than stains on pearl walls
in the mornings I wake
dreaming of my body being shaped back into a pulse of a mans
promising to be better
I wake to a toddler staring down at me
step on me
hit me with your storybook or
hide me
release me to the corners I belong
I am nothing more but the ripped spine of a leaf
I am nothing more than the roughest patch of a child's palm
I have always been nothing more
I am nothing more
I am nothing
and yet I have
been given
time to
be
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
Straws and twigs litter the balcony
leaves withered from winter
pigeons have homed here safely
dirtied the place
but I don't mind
not replaced the broken glasses
we can make do with them
our family has grown
somewhere we left the nest
to wither in winter
barely holding together
me and her.
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 3:21 AM UTC
Dream--
The drama!
Up above?
Drone airplane
---
--2--
---
*****
Good ***** gone to seed
Come with me tonight
We'll ride the D-train
Unto heaven
--
4
---
Homeless
***** in the park
.
Homed
***** on the homeless
Republican Party Christian
--
5
--
Big ***
Big ****
Stupid
I want her
---
3
-----
In a while
In a while
In a while
Out the window?
Out the door!
--
7
---
I said to her
"Come with me
We shall make eternity
And lovely
Babies"
.
BUT I DON'T know YOU!
She said
..
"So what's your point?"
I sez
---
5 1/3
----
This is the POEM
that'll save the world!
.
OH GOD
THE PRESSURE'S ON!!
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 2:24 AM UTC
It’s not easy being white
As we are so often right
Taking responsibility
To the best of our ability
Helping those less fortunate
Unfortunate subordinates
Separating mother and son
Her to Mexico, he to Tucson
Half-breed aborigines
Removed with exigencies
Native American children
Re-homed by the millions
It’s a service that we happily provide
Duly doing our duty to divide
We humbly accept your appreciation
Of our outrageous Caucasian contagion
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 9:56 PM UTC
A poor room homed me in the childhood
With cold stone walls and a leaky stove;
Some days were spent under cover
With a hoody, a hat and pair of glove.
Nathless, there was no poverty of food;
My mother managed well the stew
With rice, potatoes and some carrots,
Her care cook'd a lot out of few.
Beside, the careless neighbours stood
With a lil bowl of sugar and eggs,
Trading on a sip of juice for gossips,
Paying the fee of the one who begs.
Way-outie, we were never even gloomy;
Despite the days of water and light off,
Mother managed the waves of hardship
Like the sailor's star never falling off.
Is a grace of God, the unfortunate broom
In which I scarce tasted thick happiness?
Sugar tastes sour after golden honey;
For rich, my treasure was unhappiness.
I enjoyed the oxford blue sky of the moon
While mom sweeped the streets for stubs,
I jumped up moon-high finding pennies
Far away the parties' hubhubs.
What a pity I feel now, for all the poor
Who had money, goods and no misery;
They know nothing what is life like,
But for true rich, life itself is glittery.
Oct 5, 2019
Oct 5, 2019 at 2:37 AM UTC
Cresol dusk imbued to rustic hypnosis,
The civic stroll outside,zombified with
What must be glorious ataxia.
The masquerade hosted by dust,
An implicit surrender to the elements,
Basked in nocturnia-- lo,
The elements ceased having meaning
When I learnt I could not hold control
over them.
See the sky ramp and shiver,shuffling stars
In a showcase to those loving,an augury to those
Self-appointed sinners--
And see me,disconnected and without a care,
I surrender my breath as limboid tangents
And the elements do not rebut.
I am homed in becoming alone,
I am possessed in converse and I am lost
without the choice to be otherwise.
I watch the gimcrack mannerisms loop effably,
Understanding the road to omniscience is tipped
In ego alone--
One must not surrender,rather accept
And work a way round the system.
The cosmic map is eidetic,it's lanuage
dares not pander to speech,
it's sleep is one day needed
and complimentary to our own--
I listen to the madrigal and no longer seek to compose it,
I choose to believe that nothing is chosen.
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 3:22 PM UTC
Ten Word Challenge: orphan/ gilded/ scattered/ fins/ library/ pavement/ plowshares/ stamp/ outcry/ tomatoes
Orphan books at the library
scattered on rickety tables
set up on the cracked pavement
await a new home at bargain prices
Books whose stamps
of classification are faded
Some with gilded edges
like the fins of goldfish
Books rich with knowledge
ready for curious fertile minds
like soil being turned by plowshares
for corn, wheat or rich red tomatoes
Books that - if not re-homed
if tossed or burned -
would rightly cause an outcry
from book lovers everywhere
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 9:27 AM UTC
My heart is a place you write your poetry.
A poem you strum for me
A melody to your remedy
You sang in my heart so passionately
You’ll keep yourself afloat
Sweetheart, my heart is a place you write your poetry.
A place you’d bleed and let fears be the reason you gather the strength within you
A place you will fill with tears, not buckets but oceans of withering waves scalloping your dreams and still be able to breathe
A place you let go of your mere self and tell your broken pieces you’re whole, you’re only hungry for love and more, never enough
A place you will go to often, without thinking, they’re familiar, so comfortable with life uncertainties, you’re oblivious but that’s okay
A place you seek for yourself from yourself to have a better view of who you really are, your reflection and this mirror, fragile and strong
A place you share your hopes and dreams and giving up will never be a part of this
A place you fall and fight; your ups and downs they compliment, and you can stand on your own because you believe,
you’re homed.
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 8:14 PM UTC
but let us not forget the stars
from which we come from...
Human beings is a carnal metaphor
we constructed and materialized
from generations of practice
out of the fear of accepting
who and what we really are
we are too infinite to be defined
the very substance that produces miracles
within our infinite galaxy
is homed at the very foundation
of our existence
free-willed celestial beings
crowned with the insignia of victory,
created by the very power and divine Love
which moves the Sun and all the other stars
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
A thief is a thief
Will he take your heart?
Will he take your lips?
Will he take your soul?
To what value it is
Will he have it? Homed?
Will he have it? Yes?
Will he have it? Sold?
Riches of riches
Will he play it? Smart?
Will he play it? Bluff?
Will he play it? Fold?
A thief is a thief
Can he take it now?
Can he take a life?
Can he take his own?
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 9:46 PM UTC
There is mutual respect
Where there is trust
Apologies aren't shameful
No mind is disturbed
Where all are brave enough to fight the wrong
Every one follows humanity's laws
Where those who take give
Poverty doesn't exist
Where sun of hope rises
And sets only when aims are fulfilled
Where curiosity never ends
We all can friends
Nobody defends
Wars and revenge
Where the helpless aren't left to seek refuge in the evil
The disappointed keep on believing
Good deeds are enough for glory
All are fed, clothed and homed
No job is small
Every talent is honed
Where the light of good sears through
Clouds of stupid follies
Where every self is allowed
To write his own story
Teachings aren't just remembered
But followed by mortal souls
Where to work hard for humanity
For it to perspire
To die for it
Is the only goal
Everyone's allowed to live
Their own reality
Nobody falls into
The abyss of depravity
Every individual
Has equality
Where no one makes
Mother Nature cry
Her children live under her smile
Where beauty, joy, life,
Truth, contentment, light,
Love wisdom, free mind,
Honesty and purity thrive
There everyone's God resides
There true Utopia lies
In our very minds
Feb 2, 2021
Feb 2, 2021 at 10:41 AM UTC
Nothing personal my dear; I'm just a walking shadow that is lost in the light.
I wonder your soul, hoping to find what I lost a lifetime ago.
Searching for that glimmering love I once homed in my eyes.
Trying to recover that tension that used to grip the corner of my lips.
Nothing personal my dear; I'm just a leaf riding a forgotten breeze in the calm night.
Waiting for the moon to rise, casting it's love into every wound I bare.
Wondering if I could again stand with strength my own heart held.
Trying to understand the importance of a water droplet, hugging my skin.
Nothing personal my dear; I'm just an abyss found in the unknown universe.
Touching all that have recently been diagnosed with a wish.
Cleansing the souls that have become dim from my unforgiving presence.
Trying to replace all that I had once stole from the world of honesty.
Nothing personal my dear; I am hopelessly enslaved to your heart.
Serving you again and again, showing you my undying affection.
Conducting acts of romance that would melt the moon in your eyes.
Trying to showcase the importance of your breath that lingers in the clouds you sleep on.
Nothing personal my dear; I'm just trying to prevent your unearthly sprirt to stay as pure as the angel you are.
Which is why I must save your lips from fading the hue that is the sky.
Preventing a dove to collect your smile from your glowing face.
Trying to save the only thing left that is right in this world.
Nothing personal my dear; I am going to close my eyes tonight...
So you may opens yours tomorrow...
To ensure your heart rhythmically echos in the night...
Because I value your life more then my own...
Nothing personal my dear...
But I have surrendered my heart to you...
So your can open your eyes tomorrow...
When I close mone tonight....
Nothing personal my dear...
But I can't see you leave this world...
Because I love you...
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC
you know how homed it is to you when you have nothing to return to unless to them.
*today
my cat died.*
I die a lil inside.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC
Can't hold, can't sustain, can't maintain
the thought that lingers in my mind.
I yelled, i shout at myself, stop!
Stop thinking the notion of going back.
But i held her at my arms and so she held my face.
We stood there for a couple of minutes no words
just a calming silence, relief.
A sense of kindness was all i needed
my thought now homed and settled.
Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 12:21 PM UTC
My worries are weak
Yet pipe dreams for some
I sob over leaks
they sob in wet slums
My roof is above
I’m full when I feed
They don’t eat enough
I’m stuffed as they bleed
Their bullets bone break
They beg for their meals
Their hunger won’t sate
Their fates, soon sealed
Still, I dare complain
While warm, homed, and safe
While they wash blood stains
With drains that drip late
Our savour and scents
And lavish plate stacks
Their sorrow and cents
Soon spent on scraps
My fears are content
I sleep still each night
I’m scared to present
They’re scared for their life
But them I can’t free
For them I can’t fight
So I’ll sit with my peace
And keep shutting my eyes
Jun 26, 2025
Jun 26, 2025 at 11:45 AM UTC
to tell you a secret
where my eyes roamed
while in the forest
where my eyes homed
if I can tell you without fear
and the secret you don’t take far
it was not the wild deer
my eyes were seeing her
to tell you a secret
what my lens caught
while in the forest
what pictures it got
if I can tell you without shame
and you rightly guess the answer
it was not following any game
but kept on catching her!
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 3:36 AM UTC