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| Open Poetry #8 |
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ma miller Senior Member
since 2000-07-11
Posts 806 |
HOME ... home calls my name, but how? for it can not speak, even to me found where never is most likely to live but always lost without a family to claim rooms with ears wait for a voice's ring its walls ache from a strained poise hard wood grows harder until a foot to feel its grain tightened from a cold alone the quiet hearth welcomes no comers oh, but to burn for a stranger's warming the gentle slope of a meadow's climb a lawn's greening, life's welcome mat makes a run towards the wanting front door wide expanse of greeting, gathering columns the cooling pool of inviting blue waters refreshes none, but its springs run still a hearty stone pit, to boil the spit no feast to eat 'til hunters return oh, let me be that hunter of lost way come to claim the home of my dreams to the fold, we humbly invite your warmth the entrance of our existence and souls home, be the keeper for all who venture become their house for all who enter M.A, Miller 07.24.00 < !signature--> My calling before me, let quill be my offering; For to be called poet, no greater gift to receive. M.A. [This message has been edited by MA Miller (edited 07-24-2000).] |
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| © Copyright 2000 ma miller - All Rights Reserved | |||
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ethome Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858New Brunswick Canada |
Touching, soothing, peaceful and homey, filled with metaphours of lasting impression. Take care......ethome.. |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Oh, I loved the flow...the sound of this...just beautiful! |
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ma miller Senior Member
since 2000-07-11
Posts 806 |
thanks for reading ethome and Martie ... we're in the middle of buying our dream house and this descibes it as best as i can (without a picture) ... thanks again ... |
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