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Author Name: FreeTashtego57 21 Comments
Date Added: January 11, 2010 10:01:10 Average Score: (Needs 2)
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Category: Topic Of The Week/Coming Home Add To Favorites | Text Only
 
Homeward Bound

I’m sitting in a railway station

Got a ticket for my destination…

Home  

 

Where is his home? 

That’s not the question.

Home is just a state of mind

And not a destination.

 

Home is upstairs at Grandma’s

Where on summer night’s rain would clatter

And crickets sang the whole night through

When restful sleep was all that mattered.

 

But Grandma’s been gone nearly 20 years.

Those peaceful nights replaced.

A stranger in her house does live

Rich memories cannot be traced.

 

Home is the warmth of mother’s kitchen

Where fragrances abound.

Sweet ‘tater biscuits and beans and cakes

Fried chicken in stately mounds.

 

But his mother cooking days are done.

In her new home she cooks no more.

Industrial food from large tin pots

And a staff that tends to bore.

 

Home is where children always collect

As with dogs and tails fiercely wagging.

Where comfy chairs and warming drinks

Rescue and restore the spirits lagging.

 

But the drudge of life and other tasks

Beset his time around.

Darkness and warmed up meals

And a house without a sound.

 

Home is where the heart is

A plaque by the door proclaims.

Houses and people may come and go

While memories still remain.

 

But memories hurt, their impact great

And sometimes bring haunting pain.

But warm memories of home can fill the heart

And keep the man somewhat sane.

 

Homeward bound…

I wish I was homeward bound.

Home, where my thought’s escaping,

Home, where my music’s playing

Home, where my love lies waiting…

Silently for me.

Author's Notes:
lyrics from "Homeward Bound," by Paul Simon, 1965
 
A house does not necessarily make a home....
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Comments:
Comment By: FreeMaples on October 20, 2010 07:24:36 PM Report
I jumped inside this one with you. I visited all your memories and in my head added some of my own. I could picture everything as how you saw it with how well your poem described it. Delightful Read.

 

--Maples

Comment By: FreeThe Bag Lady on June 2, 2010 04:00:54 PM Report
Indeed!  Home is where you JUST FEEL RIGHT....Where it is safe, comfortable and familiar...I love this...You did a great job and loved the play of Paul Simon...brought back memories...Nicely done!
Margaret.....a friend in words...

Comment By: TrialKathy on March 15, 2010 05:13:46 AM Report
I love that song "Homeward Bound" as well as the song "I Wanna Go Home" by Michael Buble.

  So equally this follows along the same path, it's nice to think about home and what waits for you especially when you are far away and have long to go and much to do.

 

Great poem!

Comment By: PremiumBruce A. Peaslee on January 31, 2010 05:44:30 PM Report
Andrew - I fully agree with the sentiments of this piece.  I have long ago learned that home is where you are comfortable and wanted.

                With my wife of thirty three years I have found a place to call home in South Carolina.  Home truly is where the heart is.

 

---Poetrydad---

Comment By: FreeWith pain comes strength on January 26, 2010 07:11:19 PM Report
This is beautiful!  Memories can be bittersweet and you can lose yourself for a while...but we wouldn;t be without them, for they so often make us smile..

Could just imagine him sat there in his own little world as the hustle n bustle of passengers passed him by..

Another geat write

:O)

Comment By: Freenoah count on January 25, 2010 12:05:25 PM Report
"upstairs at Grandma's", has a fine ring to it.  Strong, soothing visuals.  Well done. 
Comment By: FreeKeri on January 22, 2010 09:22:26 PM Report
I can feel this one, especially as I'm still looking for my own little slice of home to make my own.  I've tried on a few outside my place of youth, but none feels quite right...yet.

I liked this.

Keri

Comment By: FreeThomas Heath on January 15, 2010 09:40:00 AM Report


Comment By: FreeThomas Heath on January 15, 2010 09:39:58 AM Report


Comment By: FreePamela A. Lamppa on January 14, 2010 08:52:30 PM Report
Love the Simon and Garfunkel line to open this verse my friend.  *smile* 
There is such melancholy in your words, the flavor of times past, those that we can only return to in the memories that last.

There are times when I just want to go home too.  ((hug))  Loved this - ~Pamela
Comment By: PremiumMary Lou Allen on January 14, 2010 03:10:35 PM Report

I was startled to hear, loud and clear, young Glen Campbell singing his heart out while I, also young, created my own home. It's a powerful poem that can do that, Andrew. Well done. Thanks for a sentimental journey. ML


Comment By: FreeAlison Storm Wolf on January 12, 2010 03:41:23 PM Report
Lots of bittersweet remembering and insightful thinking
Ali x
Comment By: FreeCindy Bendel on January 12, 2010 09:16:11 AM Report
personally, i always loved those ham biscuits = ) 
great stuff sweet stuff
cin 

Comment By: FreeGraham Jones on January 12, 2010 05:28:55 AM Report
Like they say Andrew bricks and morter make a house not a home, people do that and the memories that come with it, you have set this out wonderfully a pleasure to read~Graham.
Comment By: FreeLinda Jo on January 11, 2010 07:21:05 PM Report
this is a real beauty!  I started singing as soon as the lyrics appeared and never stopped until the very end.   Yes, "home is upstairs at  gramma's house"...I've got a  few stories to tell about that line...and I am sure you do too.  This is a gem packed full of memories but you made it so personal...the reader feels like he is homeward bound...right along with you...wonderful job with the topic!
Comment By: TrialAnn on January 11, 2010 06:34:42 PM Report
This is such a thoughtful piece. I think you told it the way it is really and home is more than just where you are at a given time. Nice work.
Comment By: Freee. Gene Myers on January 11, 2010 06:30:01 PM Report
I am a carpenter of over forty years.  During that time I have built many houses, but only one home.  That of my family.  And it moves from house to house as we move place to place.  You are right, home is wherever you are that there is family love.  Houses do not make the homes we need or live in. 
Thanks for sharing    Gene
Comment By: FreeMoonStar on January 11, 2010 04:47:28 PM Report
OMG!!! Like this is one of the best pieces I have read in a very long time my dear friend.. You have said it all in one beautiful piece, what home means to many of us. I so love the way you put in the lyrics too. Gave it a new demention of sorts.. This was brilliant SAM, and I do mean that with a capital B too!

 

In awe, I am, in awe..

 

Zulu the Lunar Lady xxxx

Comment By: FreeBarbara Demasson on January 11, 2010 02:03:19 PM Report
WOWOWOW Andrew...I love this! The use of the lyrics really set the mood for this poem...great way to open, you had me in your grip right away. The memories within are those which bring us close to people we love and comfort sights and sounds that soothe our soul. You've presented them simply which adds to the piece...for your character is reflecting on those things that take him right to the heart of what really meant the most to him...that which defines "home". Houses are just structures...it is times shared and memories made that make a house a home...these times slip by as circumstances change...it seems we trade places...that is...we are the cook in the kitchen, our home is now "grandma's house"...we are part of another generation's fond memories. I can't be brief, sorry...this piece speaks to me about what really matters in life. We can't go back there for everything has changed but we can still make fried chicken and reflect on those days. May the drudge of life and other tasks never take away the wisdom and ambition to make a house a home and may we be fortunate enough to have a love that lies waiting. Wonderful moving piece. Bravo!

 

~Barbara~       

Comment By: FreeTanya Harrison on January 11, 2010 12:20:17 PM Report
Andrew, I love your vision of home.  Brought a few tears to my eyes, but your vision of home was very touching.  Great job.  Loved the dogs and the sweet tater biscuits.  Lovely poem from your pen.
Comment By: FreeShe Whispers on January 11, 2010 10:41:52 AM Report
 Andrew,
 Home does mean many things to different people.
  Both good bad.....some want to go home others just want to stay away.... To me home is  safe and warm and my spirit waits for me there.... I love this so well written..
 Thank you for all the amazing comments on my pages of poems your indeed a great friend... Hugs Always ~ She Whispers




 


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