Home Poems
Out Of The Cradle Endlessly Rocking
by Walt Whitman
Out of the cradle endlessly rocking,
Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle,
Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
Over the sterile sands and the fields beyond, where the child
leaving his bed wander'd alone, bareheaded, barefoot,
Down from the shower'd halo,
Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as
if they were alive,
Out from the patches of briers and blackberries,
From the memories of the bird that chanted to me,
......
Shoo
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
I was a competent, happy housewife, but that was before my husband died,
Leaving me to rear myriad children solo, as the lone star twinkles with pride.
John had left us a prosperous farm, with a lovely home, shaped like a shoe;
And our older children did farm work daily, as they'd ever been wont to do.
My older children were reliable and steadfast, since they were nearly grown;
But, my young ones often got in mischief, and my eldest didn't live at home.
Although I loved my children dearly, they did ofttimes, seem to be in my hair.
......
CafÉ Comedy
by Robert William Service
She
I'm waiting for the man I hope to wed.
I've never seen him - that's the funny part.
I promised I would wear a rose of red,
Pinned on my coat above my fluttered heart,
So that he'd know me - a precaution wise,
Because I wrote him I was twenty-three,
And Oh such heaps and heaps of silly lies. . .
So when we meet what will he think of me?
......
Two Sunsets
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
In the fair morning of his life,
When his pure heart lay in his breast,
Panting, with all that wild unrest
To plunge into the great world's strife
That fills young hearts with mad desire,
He saw a sunset. Red and gold
The burning billows surged and rolled,
And upward tossed their caps of fire.
......
The Cremation Of Sam Mcgee
by Robert William Service
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
......
lovin’ where I live
by Rikske Kessner
parched wind, salt‑tongued
from the far edge of the bay,
licks the last drift of
mauve jacarandas.
in the tin‑roof blush,
heat simmers like held breath,
I hear the slow heartbeat of soil—
patient, cracked, still keeping
the memory of rain..
......
"Limburg"
by Mario Odekerken
De heuvels ademen traag,
alsof de tijd hier anders loopt,
zachter misschien.
Mist kruipt over velden
waar stemmen klinken
in tongvallen die wiegen.
Limburg,
de provincie die mij uitgekozen heeft
......
If Someone Finds Home
by Md. Kausar Uddin Ahmed
If someday,
Someone finds shelter
In the lines of my palm,
Calls my hands
The place where their storms rest,
Their peace begins.
Then maybe,
Just maybe,
This short stay on earth
Will have meant something.
......
Ouderlik Huis
by Mario Odekerken
Die trap kraakt nog
soos toe ek klein was.
Elke kamer dra
die asem van herinnering.
Die gordyne hang swaar
van sonlig en stilte.
In die kombuis
staan die tyd stil
tussen die ketel
......
De Ficus in de woonkamer
by Mario Odekerken
Hij staat daar al jaren,
zonder zich te verontschuldigen
voor zijn stilte.
Bladeren als handen
die niets vragen,
alleen vangen wat licht is.
De kamer beweegt,
mensen komen,praten,
......
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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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