No Place Like Home

No Place Like Home prose poem

Photo by kimdokhac

If one could tour my place of birth
They would notice a place where time stood still
Then they would see a place of humble simplicity

If one could spend one night in the house where I was born
No hot water or bathroom, but cold night visits to the outhouse
Then they would be more grateful, and acquire a taste for more humility

If one could roam the village where I grew up
A place where lighting bugs enjoyed the nights
Then they would walk on dusty grounds of stability

If one could only observe where I had to play
They would see no parks or play grounds for the poor
Then they would pause and share in their kids’ activity

If one could hear the soothing sounds that I heard by day and by night
The melody of crickets late at night, and roosters crowing early mornings.
Then they would experience far less stress, and have a chance with longevity

If one could get to know the neighbors I knew
The dear people I honored, trusted, and respected
Then they would understand the true meaning of civility

If one could care nearly as much as they
People who took the time to love and share
Then they too would love with all their ability.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Profile photo of curtisjohnsonsr

curtisjohnsonsr

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
I am a retired minister and the husband of Barbara for 42 years. We reside in Sacramento ,Ca. We have two sons and a daughter, and we are the proud grandparents of 6 children.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

2 Comments on "No Place Like Home"

Notify of
avatar
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Milton Robertson
Guest
Milton Robertson

WOW, curtisjohnsonsr, brings back memories my grand parents had a tin roof, wood burning stove and an outhouse. Reading your poem, I can see it all again. Outstanding. God Bless.

wpDiscuz

Like An Old Song

Like An Old Song short poem

Walking in mental fog, you become a swaying tree. In mistiness one becomes lonely like a blackbird. Hollyhocks would wait, till the sun comes out. December rain brings the gift― of sleet on lips. ————————————– Walking in mental fog, you

Like Gold

Like Gold short poem

The man of her life treats her like gold, So she cries Because she knows Her secrets would break him inside And would crush his soul, So to protect him she lies As her secrets are something that she holds

My New Home

My New Home long poem

I feel all alone In a dark place with no sign of life Sign of life being happiness and love The dark place is in my head Cause I have created this place for myself to escape the reality The

No Return

No Return short poem

It was inheritance of age before the mirrors for the language of windows. The high rise buildings always cast a pall of gloom.earth seems to slide and I cannot reach the sky. I want to say what I did not

And Like A Spoon, I Fell

And Like A Spoon, I Fell short poem

She felt my thirst. Grabbing my legs lifting me in the air. I had no idea what was about to happen. The plastic removed from my face, the breath of life. I felt comfort in her hands. The places that