Posts tagged ‘home’

Friday, 22 November 2019

Home by Alison Hicks

is the place the wasps come in.
You have no choice but to let them.
Buzzing the ceiling, flying high
when they need to fly low. Guide

them out the screen if you can,
goose them with a paper when they land.
Home is the earring with the missing stone,
the hole you probe, wondering what will fit

in the space and where the lost piece is.
The dog who went over the fence
not by plan but chance, paws on top
and feeling it give, giving in to it.

Mice who find their way in
to live through the winter—
and who doesn’t have
to live through a winter

of some sort or another?
It is the lover who left
and then came back,
unable to decide which is best.

The chipped glass marble buried in the dirt,
it catches your eye as you wait
on the corner with the runaway dog,
returning.

From: https://sliverofstonemagazine.com/home-by-alison-hicks/

Date: 2018

By: Alison Hicks (19??- )

Tuesday, 10 September 2019

Home by Warsan Shire

no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilet
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.

you have to understand,
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
no one burns their palms
under trains
beneath carriages
no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck
feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled
means something more than journey.

no one crawls under fences
no one wants to be beaten
pitied
no one chooses refugee camps
or strip searches where your
body is left aching
or prison,
because prison is safer
than a city of fire
and one prison guard
in the night
is better than a truckload
of men who look like your father
no one could take it
no one could stomach it
no one skin would be tough enough

the
go home blacks
refugees
dirty immigrants
asylum seekers
sucking our country dry
niggers with their hands out
they smell strange
savage
messed up their country and now they want
to mess ours up
how do the words
the dirty looks
roll off your backs
maybe because the blow is softer
than a limb torn off

or the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child’s body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark
home is the barrel of the gun
and no one would leave home
unless home chased you to the shore
unless home told you
to quicken your legs
leave your clothes behind
crawl through the desert
wade through the oceans
drown
save
be hunger
beg
forget pride
your survival is more important

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying —
leave,
run away from me now
i dont know what i’ve become
but i know that anywhere
is safer than here.

From: https://medium.com/poem-of-the-day/warsan-shire-home-46630fcc90ab

Date: 2015

By Warsan Shire (1988- )

Wednesday, 10 June 2015

Home by Dorothy (Dora) Greenwell

Two birds within one nest;
Two hearts within one breast;
Two spirits in one fair,
Firm league of love and prayer,
Together bound for aye, together blest.

An ear that waits to catch
A hand upon the latch;
A step that hastens its sweet rest to win:
A world of care without,
A world of strife shut out,
A world of love shut in.

From: Greenwell, Dora, Poems by Dora Greenwell (Selected) with an Introduction by William Dorling, 1889, Walter Scott: London, p. xxiv.
(https://archive.org/stream/poemsbydoragreen00gree#page/n27/mode/2up)

Date: 1876

By: Dorothy (Dora) Greenwell (1821-1882)

Sunday, 11 January 2015

Home by Richard Newman

I like my hometown more
the longer I’m away.
Memories, like trick candles,
flicker as I pull in.

The longer I’ve been away
the less I recognize. Stars
flicker as I pull in.
Where are the woods and fields?

I barely recognize the stars.
Home is where
my boyhood woods and fields
now offer beautiful new homes.

Home is where they said
Leave now so we might miss you someday.
The beautiful new homes say
We’re better off since you left.

We might miss you someday—
yes, that would be my wish.
Home is where they’re better off since you left.
Blow into town and blow right out.

Yes, that would be my wish—
that I liked my hometown more.
Blow through town. Blow out
memories like trick candles.

From: http://www.versedaily.org/2007/home.shtml

Date: 2006

By: Richard Newman (1966- )