Poetry competition CLOSED 28th October 2012 6:27am
WINNER
fred_r_kane (fred r kane)
fred_r_kane (fred r kane)
RUNNERS-UP:
marielavoue
and drivelicious13
Homeward Bound
Poetry Contest Description
Speak of going Home and what Home is. What it means to you.
Homeward Bound: speak about home, what it means to you. How does it feel to go home: what is home: is it where the heart is? Is it where you were born. What Memories do your home evoke in you: Sad, happy, warm...?
Rule 1: Not more than 200 words, one poem per participants.
Rule 2: Please title your poem.
Rule 3: Please adhere to the guidelines.
Thank You!
Inviting all DUP friends and family to participate in the competition.
Rule 1: Not more than 200 words, one poem per participants.
Rule 2: Please title your poem.
Rule 3: Please adhere to the guidelines.
Thank You!
Inviting all DUP friends and family to participate in the competition.
Falling through God and into space.
Through galaxies
past star and planet
to this blue world.
Was a trip.
It's true.
You can never go back.
Memories locked in capsules
unlocked by media:
music
movies
magazines
and verified by
copyright dates.
Home is a time not a space.
It's true.
Time changes space
and those who occupy-
There was a time I knew
home.
Now, it's a holograph of a ghost.
Now I share space
I'll, one day
call home.
Through galaxies
past star and planet
to this blue world.
Was a trip.
It's true.
You can never go back.
Memories locked in capsules
unlocked by media:
music
movies
magazines
and verified by
copyright dates.
Home is a time not a space.
It's true.
Time changes space
and those who occupy-
There was a time I knew
home.
Now, it's a holograph of a ghost.
Now I share space
I'll, one day
call home.
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Home
The night has long enveloped the sky.
I stand alone.
The ground, becoming damp,
whispers under my feet
and midnight breathes into my chest.
Cool air traveling on the breeze
sneers at me, as I suffer its simplicity.
Distant taller trees strain in sombre tones,
to the gusts of winds heaving past their branches.
The moonshine thins through thickening clouds.
While voices of thunder resonate realms of the earth,
lightning brings an instant of daylight to the sky;
my loss of sight is effervescent, I see yet again and again...
My mind is at peace now with the world.
The power of the storm brings serenity.
The viciously tranquil landscape has left my soul at peace.
I find honour in this escape.
Walking to a familiar place, my heart becoming warm,
home is where I find rest.
---------------------
link to 'Home' in my poems:
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/72679-home/
Hope there's no prob with old poems. If there is, it's all good:)
The night has long enveloped the sky.
I stand alone.
The ground, becoming damp,
whispers under my feet
and midnight breathes into my chest.
Cool air traveling on the breeze
sneers at me, as I suffer its simplicity.
Distant taller trees strain in sombre tones,
to the gusts of winds heaving past their branches.
The moonshine thins through thickening clouds.
While voices of thunder resonate realms of the earth,
lightning brings an instant of daylight to the sky;
my loss of sight is effervescent, I see yet again and again...
My mind is at peace now with the world.
The power of the storm brings serenity.
The viciously tranquil landscape has left my soul at peace.
I find honour in this escape.
Walking to a familiar place, my heart becoming warm,
home is where I find rest.
---------------------
link to 'Home' in my poems:
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/72679-home/
Hope there's no prob with old poems. If there is, it's all good:)
http://wordbiscuit.com/images/home.jpg
< all of you from a home long past >
philip
glances at his watch
leaving on the nine o-clock
barely a chance
but if he ran
susan
was running for the gate
all that wool skirt
catching up to do
tripping on
most of it
ray
is waiting to be eaten
out in a world
missing food
jennifer
though spring catches her
feels
the first frost anyway
pat
knows something
but
she's not telling
alex
stands flat
rubbed by the pavement
by talking all night
michael
his eyes
his face
supply what's needed
rachel
is always gone
but the moon
keeps her safe
lynne
is lost
but somewhere else
she counts our lives
averil
her breasts
lit
through gold and violet gels
barbara
flies
highest of all
constantly circling
bill
reading the paper
walking mud and new roads
calls home
smitty
wants another place
admits miles
between his eyes
cathy
her small room
filled
with constant song
babs
she pulls
her thread so easy
through my fingers
koko
and gary snyder
grin
sharing a joke
but let us in
roger
talks
but leaves us nothing
as we do the same
for him
gale
that long fall
down the mountain
just shined up
your chrome finish
paul
he stutters
lovely things
in the morning
by himself
raymond
runs his kids away
while talking backwards
through the day
toby
is all future now
life and sticks
the same possession
ilane
stretches quietly
as nothing
becomes us all
- - -
Home is...
Home is an alien word to me
I’ve traveled so much,
truly live the life of a gypsy.
Home for me is where the heart is,
where my family gets together
cook, laugh and celebrate things.
Home…arrival on the island, off the plane,
it smells like red clay, seawater and pineapples,
the colors are vibrant, nowhere else is the same.
Home was where my grand ruled;
“Mama Maria” would orchestrate
all the things and we followed her ques.
Home was where 12 +2 children
40+ grand and 62 great grand gathered;
three generations of this Spanish family.
Home is where at the predawn hour we (the women),
would gather around my Grand’s bed,
she would sing to us and “raise the sun”,
then off to the kitchen to feed this massive family,
first the men , then the children and last the women.
My grand is gone now; no one seems to know,
how to hold this great family together, now I,
one of the youngest of the grandchildren
is the one, all turn to in the time of troubles or grief,
a heavy burden to carry, a great responsibility,
my people are matriarchate .
I am home and home is within me,
no matter where I am or where I travel,
I am the heartbeat of my great family.
Gypsy Red
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Missing baby
There's a woman in the doorway
of your baby's room,
she's sweeping up the years, with a scrapbook broom
The window is closed
yet baby's blanket feels so cold,
Now you wish you could but hug
the one you used to hold,
The woman asked for Santa Claus
dressed in Daddy's clothes,
You answered that he never lived
to keep her on her toes,
You asked her where she'd been
she said you ought to know,
She asked you for the time
but your watch was running slow.
April 1979, Revisited June 2012
There's a woman in the doorway
of your baby's room,
she's sweeping up the years, with a scrapbook broom
The window is closed
yet baby's blanket feels so cold,
Now you wish you could but hug
the one you used to hold,
The woman asked for Santa Claus
dressed in Daddy's clothes,
You answered that he never lived
to keep her on her toes,
You asked her where she'd been
she said you ought to know,
She asked you for the time
but your watch was running slow.
April 1979, Revisited June 2012
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
