"hometown" poems
We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."
We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.
I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.
I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.
Almost.
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 5:46 AM UTC
I left my home in the name of education
I left my hometown in the name of higher education
I left my state in the name of graduation
I left my family in the name of aspiration
At times, I miss my childhood
Although, the fun & friends weren't the same in my adulthood
In order to get rid of their falsehood
I left them too, for my own good
I have traveled so far away from home
Now, When I let my thoughts to roam
All they bring back is sadness and pain
And then, I left my tears to drain
I lost myself in this whole journey of life
There were times when I often looked for a knife
Not just to **** me but to end the pain
I left everything and I'm waiting for a magical rain
Jun 17, 2018
Jun 17, 2018 at 6:59 AM UTC
Hi there.
Sometimes it hurts to think.
I'm driving around in my hometown
I saw this old park that me and my friends would run and laugh and play at all the time.
We played cops and robbers
Lava Monster
Freeze tag
We acted like knights in strong armor and princesses with glittery dresses and we all slayed the dragons
Well now here I am staring at this old swing set that no one swings on anymore.
I used to think that I could touch the clouds with my feet if I swung high enough.
There is something so lively about a group of kids laughing and playing on a playground.
There is something so eerie about an old empty playground where no one goes.
That playground used to be so alive.
Now the swing creaks as it sways in the slight breeze.
You can almost hear faint whispers of the kids laughing from years before.
Now all those kids are adults with lives and responsibilities that are much more important than slaying a dragon.
The wood has splinters that get stuck in your fingers.
It is not shiny and fun anymore.
It used to be new
But I have found that everything changes eventually.
I wish people didn't leave so unexpectedly.
Anyways I am just rambling
but next time you see a playground
just try to look away.
it hurts to think too long
Bye.
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 7:10 PM UTC
Everything comes back to your hometown
You go to college looking for a fresh start
But you know everything about you still gets around
In college who do you go to first, your high school friends
Go to college in the same state
And nothing ever ends
You stay where you are comfortable
Because in an environment with strangers you look for the familiar faces
Seeing a piece of home in crowd places
A sense of relief over flows
You don't need to stress to impress them
They have seen you at your low
Unlike these strangers that surround you
Soon enough you'll feel like you're living in a zoo
And the first person you will turn to will be from your hometown
The last person you'll end up with will be from your hometown
The person you will be with forever will be from your hometown
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC
I once thought there wasn't any life outside of this town,
but I was okay with that because it had everything I needed.
But what do I know?
We are all so young,
running through parks,
climbing up mountaintops.
Strolling past all the shops
and driving around this town going nowhere in particular,
I thought that it simply could not get better than this.
We loved each other like the stars
I thought that nothing could separate us.
We were sure to last,
but little did we know
that all these days will belong to the past,
and everything that we always did
now live on pages on thousands of papers
and in pictures tucked away in a box of old things.
Happiness was in the air that day
when we all were together once again.
The moon shined bright that night,
lighting the path that we once drove down every day.
This city just seems so small now that I have broken all its walls.
I drive past all the places we left marks on in this city.
The now vacant houses that once held so many memories,
the lunch table where our love blossomed,
the midnight drives to the movies,
getting excited over slushies,
and the lakes we learned to float.
I look back on all these places
and think about all the things we ever did,
I simply thought that it could not get any better than this.
Setting the new year on fire.
Dancing to the sounds of Grease.
Picking peaches in celebration of spring.
Watching all the bands we ever loved.
I would forget all my stress and worries thinking about it all.
Can it get any better than this?
I want to thank this town for all the stories I wrote.
All the times we felt like children.
All the times we rose with the sun.
All the times I felt loved by all the people that were my stars.
As I'm driving through this town and watch it grow smaller in my eyes,
I imagine a time when I was not alone.
I know getting older can seem quite strange at times,
but what do I know?
All I know is that there is just so much to see,
and sometimes the grass isn't always green as it used to be.
But as long as I have these memories,
it couldn't get any better than this.
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 10:42 PM UTC
I truly believe happiness
is listening to your hometown heroes
play their final show at their favorite venue
and crying with them as they play their final song.
And everyone in the crowd sings along.
It's always been a dream of mine-
a dream as big as the state of Nebraska,
but they've taught me, my hometown heroes,
that hope IS a good thing.
And my hometown is Lincoln. And my hometown is where dreams come true.
Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 1:36 AM UTC
I am from VapoRub,
From Goya
And morisoñando.
I am from the traffic
And loud horns,
From the Caribbean heat,
And the city lights,
From the buildings
And the towers.
I am from the palm trees
And the coconut trees,
Dancing bachata
And merengue
In the beach,
From yaniqueque
Y plátano,
From tostones
And fish.
I am from Sunday gatherings
And loud family members,
From Jose, Maria, and Primos,
And the hardworking
Payamps clan.
I am from the
Madera’s baseball team,
From Canó, Sosa, y Ortiz,
From the long summer rides
To ***** Cana
And Samana’s beach.
From “work hard
Cause life is not easy”
And “family before friends.”
From Christianity
And Saturday morning sermons,
From God is good
And He brings joy.
I am from Santo Domingo
And Monción,
From Santiago
And Spanish ancestors,
From mangú con salami,
From rice and beans.
From the grandpa
Who owns the village
Surrounded by
Chickens, cows, and bulls,
From the business owner
And the well known uncles
In my hometown.
I am from the only flag
With a bible.
From the red, blue
And white.
From the most beautiful
Island in the Caribbean,
From Quisqueya y
Libertad.
I am from the
Dominican Republic,
The country that holds
The people I love and
Miss the most.
I am from the
Little Paris box
I keep next to my bed,
Filled with precious
Gifts and letters
That make me feel
A little closer
To them.
Aug 18, 2017
Aug 18, 2017 at 11:54 AM UTC
A hometown should be one of pleasant memories
Going down to the creak, playing games in the streets
Not in this renown hidden town
A town full of dread and full of sorrow
Fulfilling the rich and suffering the poor
The unwelcomed guests welcomed all around
How I once was proud this was my hometown
My home will forever be in this town bearing misery
Until I get the courage to leave
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 7:57 PM UTC
Eyes meet with exchanged smiles from across a room
Laughter at the same jokes and nightime walks; who knows what may loom?
The meeting we both attend is a mutually interesting theme
Someone who likes it AND is realistic? This cannot be what it seems.
Once weekly at college we hold each other’s gaze
Meeting for awful campus dinners to vent about our days
From my hometown, although years separate our leaving
This is too good to be true, of course I must be dreaming
I keep talking myself down; she already dates someone good
Although that doesn’t stop me as much as it should
But just as I’m willing to put up with that fight
She tells me she rejected someone the previous night
While thankful for my silence and no resulting pain
I can’t help but wonder why this has happened again
Why do people seek in me their emotions to confide
Without at all thinking I may want to be by their side?
Years go by and we remain friends, though truly only in name
Her interest in that topic has deepened; and things just can’t be the same
Contact dwindles down to a yearly fundraising letter
Finally I toss it aside, I deserve better.
A recent interview in the paper brings her to mind once more
Only this time I feel nothing down deep in my core
With her eyes “opened” and trust from Above
I see that she has now found a groom to love
I’m happy for them and their worthwhile cause
Hopefully they will help others put life’s challenges on pause
But when all is set and done at the end of the day
I have the people I want around me every step of the way.
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 10:04 AM UTC
Sitting on my bed
Gazing out at the view
Laptop in lap
I wonder
Being of mixed race
The truth of my origins
The blood coursing through my veins
Goffle they would say
But iv always believed a man's skin colour doesn't define who he is
Kwabulawayo
A place where he is being killed
Home of the Ndebele
My hometown
Built on the ruins of a Royal town
uMzilikazi ,Leander Starr Jameson ,Lobengula ,Cecil john rhodes
Men of courage
Black and white
Fought struggles
Years before my birth
Mater Dei Hospital
My journeys beginning
My grandfathers end.
Joy and pain
My hearts memories
From Primary
Whitestone
Green fields
Where i spent my childhood
Life's little joys
Clay-yaki
In the rain
Barefoot.
Speargrass
How it stung
Running through the grass
Taller than i was
Forts
Built with shoelaces
Marbles
Fights in the sand
Afternoons spent picking mullberyys
The girls dormitory
Offbounds.
Matrons
Got me the cain
Thursday Nights
Prefects Priveleges
Sports
Cross country
The houses of Tuli, Shangani, Shashe
lifelong friends made
A place frozen in memory
Home of the best years of my life
Tears streaming down
Every Sunday evening
The way back
A boarders sentiment
Lasting 5min till reunited with friends
Tuck shared
Eskimo Hut
The Green Mamba Or Pink Panther
The food hall
Quiet
Till dessert came
Mr Haworth
Everyday
"The queen would be disgusted if she saw u eating"
The tide of his time
Wandering around my childhood
I bumped unintentionally into
Maturity
Starless nights
First kisses
A little bit older i was
Aug 21, 2010
Aug 21, 2010 at 8:34 AM UTC
Welcome back to your hometown
Nothing much has changed since you we're last around
Time never seemed to make its rounds
To visit the streets of your hometown
You've been away from this place for years
Never skipped a beat nor shed a lick of tears
So why do you find yourself back here
Thought that when you left, you made it clear
You swore you would never come back again
A promise you made way back then
You had your why's you knew your when's
Your old hometown was no way to live
As you step back onto Main street
You ain't felt this sidewalk since the 70's
You find yourself not surprised to see
The reason then you had to leave
On the front porch of your old house
You reach for the door before you chicken out
That's when it is you figure out
Why in the first place you left your hometown
You turn your back and turn away
To confront your demons another day
Where you're less scared or more brave
In what it is you have to say
So here it is another round
Of one handed goodbyes to your hometown
If you ever had your well deserved doubts
You're no longer welcome in your hometown
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 7:39 AM UTC
The rusted belt is tight
in our hometown city.
Black smoke masks the lights
In one gaseous setting;
the permenant fitting
Of our hometown city
Trees exchange steel
In our hometown city.
You’ve never seen the wheels
churn and the deals burnt
In the factories that take pity
On the nitty-gritty of our
Own hometown city.
The last laughs with us
In our hometown city
We don’t’ ride the Cali bus,
But yea, I'd say we are witty,
cause al'the prettiest girls
Live in our hometown city.
The river’s been burnt
In our hometown city.
Yea we’ve learned a lot
From our own ad(e)missions;
And now, clinics fill prescriptions
in ourown hometown city
In my own hometown city
We’re slicker than you,
Even though our York’s isn’t new…
Why? Watch my city revive in
Front of your eyes- then ask me;
Why is this your hometown city?
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 3:04 AM UTC
so i get this idea sometimes
that you enjoy being coy
when it comes to me
to conjure momentary spectacle
& make me wonder
if you paint catharsis
on the doors of a home
you've never lived in
as a memory of our first night together
because i do, i remember you
beaming white on blue
speaking softer than any storm
i ever knew, i often think that maybe
you live that night in your mind
when your pillow is cold
& you can't sleep, it makes me wonder
if you do as i do, and rewrite three years fictionally beginning with a kiss somewhere
maybe a balcony or a quiet car
on the sand or in a sunlit grove close to your home but always a familiar scar on the maps we know we know by heart
i wonder if sometimes
the idea of me loving you is too real
and if it teems under your tongue
to stay observant but distantly intrigued
if by this distance you think it safe
to get a dog and pass time
on the couch with a journal & some wine
what i really wanna know is if your fingernails ever wish to have my skin under them
or if they would boast
about winning a war with my headboard
i wonder if you can imagine me
meeting your parents in your apartment & shaking your fathers hand
as a first of many calloused palm readings
and if you know that i trembled before them
how insignificant i had felt
to not know their daughter
in the way i had envisioned
how i picture such poignant moments
so tangibly sharp that sometimes
i replace my memories with little stories
i tell myself that i can't count on two hands
the number of times i've seen you
& that i don't feel like a crater
when i recollect our collisions
i want to know if you still find madness
in the words that have always been about you
i wanna know if your imagination of me
looks more like an anniversary or an obituary
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 12:59 AM UTC
On the ferris wheel we steal a kiss,
careless zeal, no bits amiss,
slip into this, mind and timelessness,
twist wrist, spit lip like starshine, crisp.
Down below the kids get lit,
ripped,
hair wind flipped out,
broke mouths sip doubt,
shout fire-light, ice pout,
grown out the hometown,
grown loud, a fun crowd,
one's got the know how,
the others got the low down,
one shot the sheriff,
then the others hit the ground.
When he shot the sheriff
he kneeled,
we saw it from the ferris wheel.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
daylight had just slipped away
and the roadsters of the night had come out to play
on the yonkers line
the night held me in its hand
safe and warm
cause it was hometown summer
cause i was young and strong
she sat there next to me with her grey eyes full
of the dreams a young woman has
full of the romance of hometown summer
we spent the night there in the grass
by the old oak tree looking down on the streamin lights
looking down on the distant vast world
years before the cost of our lives became apparent
years before the bill came due
hometown summer
and its there still in my heart
comes back to when my day is too busy
and im running down the line
she is there next to me
all my friends too
on the hill looking down on the distant world
safe in our world
safe in eachother
hometown summer
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 6:40 PM UTC
First things first
I'd like to apologise
I'm sorry I'm not the good Indian girl I was bred to be
I'm sorry I don't make round rotis
I'm sorry that the tongue I use to speak punjabi is broken and hides in my mouth unused until desperately needed
I'm sorry that I don't cook and clean efficiently enough to be wifey material
Sorry that I love who I love and don't hate who I was told to
Sorry that I can't follow gods blindly and not try to sneak back stage to see their shining gold adornments and blue body paints and multiple arms in full and bare glory and scandal
I'm sorry that I'm actually not sorry for any of this
I'm sorry that these are false and empty apologies
I am unapologetically whole
A human not just a race
A female not a trust fund or business transaction
I filter out the good parts of the culture I'm from and the ones I identify with
I'll wear docs under my saari no apologies
I'll grind on dancefloors and do the best Bhangra dance you'll ever see unashamedly
Hareems and hoodies
Bindies and pin up eyeliner
Hedonism and head in the clouds
My ambition is Ambedkar untouchable
My drive is a salt march surging silently non violently through cities
My hometown pride is built in concrete and rickshaw dust,
Prejudice and Bollywood lust
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
My life has shrunk
to fit the skin
of this small town
to live inside
the microcosm
of it's streets
to tell it's sad tales
of love & loss
& bygone travels
to walk the ways
I've known
since childhood
even the guest
that came last night
is from the street
I lived on
when I went
to college
& who was
also labelled 'mad'
here by the docs
this is a town
like any town
that locks it's dreamers up
& spits them out
to live branded
& afraid of their own shadows
a town
I want to leave
a town that once I loved
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 12:35 PM UTC
He's a darling.
He's a star.
Starplayer
Playing with my heart
Playing with it's beat
Beating like a drum
Drum
Drumming through a song
A song of endless tune
Tune to me
To me, my love
My love, you'll be gone
Gone to another land
Landing in your hometown.
To my secret love,
Love that is unknown
Unknown to you and the world
The world will drown it down
Down to my lonesome nights
Nights I'll dream of you
Dream
Dream
I dream you dream of me too.
Good bye.
I love you.
I'll miss you.
I hope I'll see you again.
And again
And again.
And again.
I hope one day,
One day
I'll be yours
Yours to love.
Love.
Love and hold.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 12:47 AM UTC
My hometown
is a place
of rustic beauty
and simple people
a population
under 200
meant that
everybody knew everybody
farmer Neville
and his sheep
always on the loose
and the quiz night
at the pub
just another excuse
to get drunker and drunker
and the private boarding school
which I attended
so rich with false academia
we learned the lessons
which would prepare us
for the false prophets yet to come
and the public school
and their ***** uniforms
where I found my friends
friends who at this point
have arrest records
ranging from assault
to petty larceny
and criminally wasted potential
oh how I miss that town
even now,
because despite the racism
and xenophobia
which infest my kinsmen
I still have to believe
that things can get better
that life there
can match the beauty
of North Yorkshire farm lands
and woodlands
and friendly knowing smiles
My hometown isn't perfect
and I wouldn't have it
any other way
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC
Hometown boys today aren’t like the ones my grandmother remembers.
Back then they looked like decent folk.
Hair combed, pants the right size,
always greeting with “Excuse me, miss.”
But today, most of them ain’t worth your while.
Standing in shadows, lurking by the train stations.
Looking like criminals.
There’s no formality or decency with these boys.
“Hey, girl! Where you goin’?”
M’ name ain’t girl. You aren’t supposed to answer these kind.
“Hey! You hear me talkin’a you?”
These are the kind of men who you’re supposed to run from.
So relaxed and limp
like snakes.
Not a care in the world.
Up on their high horses when they can’t even find the **** saddle.
Who the hell do they think they are?
Hometown boys ain’t nothing like they were
decades ago.
The kind you bring home to meet your mama and your sister.
The kind that bring sunflowers on Sundays.
The kind that call you late at night
just to see if you made it home safe and sound.
The kind that sadly go unnoticed today.
So few of them left.
So few of the sweet old-fashioned boys.
The kind that never call you ‘gull’.
They don’t come out much these days.
Probably looked at all the other hometown boys
and decided to throw in the towel and stay home.
Pity.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 6:09 PM UTC
Speaking of the kids in my hometown
we used to walk the traintracks obsessively
like they’d lead us somewhere
like they’d show us something
like the end of the summer was just a bookend parallel line with the river by the library card that promised if i only read enough books i could get out of there and over the moon.
just parallel lines, but they made as much sense as any other way out.
And the gazebo where the high school band played
and I swung on my first date
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
I wish I grew up with this face
That my beard were my hometown
Where all those awful memories grow and grow and grow
Long enough to hide the scars they made
Where all those first kiss memories
Show and show and show
When I remember just how sweet
Life can be
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC
Hometown girls
are real with you.
If they don't like you,
they'll even make their *****
look ugly;
pulling them in all the way
to the tops of their thighs
through their buttholes
and you can smell the stench
in your brain.
But when they let you in,
when they let you sit on their ears,
it's like warp-drive.
They smoke virginia slims,
because that's what their mom's smoke,
and the bags under their eyes
are filled with nicotine,
but they're pretty bags,
purses of flesh
full with the kinetic beauty of coal.
Hometown girls are mostly black,
mostly white,
fifty-fity,
but nobody's checking
and when they whisper something nice in your ear
it's colored with a microbrew
or a wheel of Jim Beam.
Sometimes they'll take you by the wrist
into the bathrooms;
sometimes they'll take your drink
when you're not looking
and smile when you catch them
with it on their lips.
But that smile is good even,
on par with a supernova
in its ability to crush
and make beautiful.
But most of the time,
they stand around
outside Casbah
and Motorco
--if they're bougie
it'll be West End--
in the middle of the night
under the porch of the sky
looking out with amber
slitted eyes
like cats,
their legs twitching thoughtfully
as they wait for cabs
and pick at the night.
Hometown girls
are sexy/beautiful
because they'll watch your every move
from the gallery
out of empathy,
knowing they've been that ***** before,
knowing they've been that lonely,
knowing they just want to get drunk
and want to be around randoms
that aren't so random.
Mar 9, 2012
Mar 9, 2012 at 6:37 PM UTC
Call me a constellation
the brightest stars my passion
seen from miles away
even when the stars burned out long ago
Call me a constellation
perfect and whole
space between, room to grow
Connect the stars paint me a picture
Born of fire a survivor in the night
Even Zeus could not strike me down
Stars shine clear over mountains, my tiny hometown
I come alive under the darkest skies
daylight is my only disguise
Return nightly
right where you left me
I'm not simply waiting,
I call it loyalty.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 2:54 AM UTC