Home Poems
Exposure
by Wilfred Owen
I
1 Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us ...
2 Wearied we keep awake because the night is silent ...
3 Low drooping flares confuse our memory of the salient ...
4 Worried by silence, sentries whisper, curious, nervous,
5 But nothing happens.
6 Watching, we hear the mad gusts tugging on the wire.
7 Like twitching agonies of men among its brambles.
......
Dutch Lullaby
by Eugene Field
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe,--
Sailed on a river of misty light
Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"
The old moon asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring-fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we,"
Said Wynken,
......
1914 V: The Soldier
by Rupert Brooke
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
......
The City In Which I Loved You
by Li-Young Lee
And when, in the city in which I love you,
even my most excellent song goes unanswered,
andI mount the scabbed streets,
the long shouts of avenues,
and tunnel sunken night in search of you...
That I negotiate fog, bituminous
rain rining like teeth into the beggar's tin,
or two men jackaling a third in some alley
weirdly lit by a couch on fire, that I
......
Black Nikes
by Harryette Mullen
We need quarters like King Tut needed a boat. A slave could row him to
heaven from his crypt in Egypt full of loot. We’ve lived quietly among the
stars, knowing money isn’t what matters. We only bring enough to tip the
shuttle driver when we hitch a ride aboard a trailblazer of light. This comet
could scour the planet. Make it sparkle like a fresh toilet swirling with blue.
Or only come close enough to brush a few lost souls. Time is rotting as our
bodies wait for now I lay me down to earth. Noiseless patient spiders paid
with dirt when what we want is star dust. If nature abhors an expensive
appliance, why does the planet suck ozone? This is a big ticket item, a
thickety ride. Please page our home and visit our sigh on the wide world’s
......
Ever Afternoon
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
We were embarked on a fruitful mission, to explore a far, distant world,
In the halcyon days, since wars had ceased, like confetti colors hurled.
Our magical spaceship was comfortable, and it afforded stunning views,
Much like the lovely, luminous nebulae, endless night's colorful tattoos.
The passing stars told a thrilling story, that we had been traveling long,
Like a silver bird, patiently soaring, to rejoin the sweet summer throng.
I really missed my big family, and our flower strewn, so faraway street,
......
Sunshine Golden
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
There's a burst of mellow sunshine, the hour of my return
after many nights, dark and sable, spent in longing for my home
Bees buzz in the rose garden, and soon to their honeycomb
Almost Home
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
I believed in fitness and healthy living, including obtaining sufficient sleep,
To revel for years in buttery sunshine, which makes emerald willows weep.
I consumed only healthier foods, including plenty of fruits and vegetables,
As the glassy, black midnight water, reaches up for moonlight collectibles.
Exercise was part of my daily routine, at times running, at others walking,
On the street of scarlet butterflies, where lazy blackbirds were squawking.
I was in the wild midst of the happy years, like a rare diamond in the sun,
......
Purple Teddy Bear
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
sitting on a chair
waiting for love to return
when the school bells ring
the birds are singing
but purple teddy is blue
the young days of spring
the clock keeps ticking
as saffron day grows older
......
Crowded House
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Amaryllises fill the flower lover's small, white cottage,
In pinks, apricots and burgundy, near summer's edge.
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Robert Louis Stevenson (31 poems about Home)
November 13, 1850 / Edinburgh, Scotland - December 3, 1894 / Vailima, Samoa -
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