The sun peeks through the window blinds
As morning light exposure finds
Let’s welcome in this brand new day
Before it too does fly away.
The leaves have gone, the trees are bare
The smell of snow now fills the air
As winter creeps upon its knees
The earth beneath begins to freeze.
Too soon the frost will move on in
While dark of night shall soon begin !
There is a place we all yearn to be
It’s not across some far-widened sea
Nor over hills or great mountainsides
And not where malice or anger hides.
It’s not under trees that reach for sky
Or where the eagles and buzzards fly
It’s just a place around the last bend
Of a lonesome road that seeks its end,
To that spot where most lives got their start
And have left behind their lonely heart !
Now I have traveled long and far
By foot and train and hired car
I’ve searched across the world’s domain
By boat and mule and aeroplane
Where’er I’ve gone it’s clear to see
That home is still the place to be !
Our lady in the harbor with torch held oh so high
She waves as strangers greet her while they are passing by
She is a precious omen that opens wide the door
To bid each one a welcome who comes here searching for
A little bit of heaven, the chance to be one’s own
Reach out to touch the angels who call this land their home !
there is no one to call my own
I have nowhere to call my home
there is no one to hold me tight
not morning, noon or vast twilight
there is no place or person there
can show me peace, or love or care
i have no place to rest my head
there is no comfort in my bed
and this I notice and it’s true
we’re all alone when day is thru
and so I go from shore to shore
as my friend the gull, fore’ermore.
( My son Mark, sent this poem yesterday with the message, ” JUST RAN THROUGH MY BRAIN” )
I think that I will never leave this place I call my home
Though often in this capricious world I’ve been wont to roam,
Still revives the peaceful quiet each time that I return,
A gladness born of solitude for which my heart does yearn.
Now from my lonely balcony, to look upon that hill
I spy confusion growing wildly rampant and virile.
Dramatic strength of habitat unknown in life’s refuse
There dwells a sweet and close contentment in this safe recluse.
I’m host to whimsical and calm fulfillment of the eye
Through years that watch each season’s lavish multi-layered sky
Fading from dark to light traversing all the rainbowed hues
In colors borrowed from some artist’s easel time suffused.
So much a giant symphony of sight and smell and sound
Feel I, as familiar objects like golden friends surround,
I now know I can’t ever leave this homely placid place
That thrives with every burning image change dare not erase.
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Claire V. Bogdanos 