Poetry competition CLOSED 30th December 2013 6:53pm
Gemini (Geminitalian)
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House warming party

Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
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Joined 3rd Mar 2013
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Poetry Contest

What does home mean to you?
So I am curious what home means, is it a mansion with the bling, or perhaps something simple and closer to the heart.

In 50 words tell me your ideal living situation.

1 home lottery ticket per player.. good luck .

Guardian of Shadows
United States
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poet Anonymous

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Strange Creature
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Joined 18th Dec 2013
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Home is always where
I can sit down my backpack
Wandering nomad

A metro station
The coffee shop with wi-fi
Backpack my pillow

Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 28th Oct 2012
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The Nomad

The past decade and a half
has seen me move over sixty times
a new place every three months
yet never staying long enough
to get a sense of home.

They’re just stop off points
in my ongoing journey through life.
I crave the comfort and security
yet my nomadic lifestyle
always seems to reign supreme.

Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
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MadameLavender said:Here you go, Mr. Moondancer --er--Mr. Noctem....


I forgot to mention Mrs Moondancer will be helping me with the judging.

How I love dancing in the moonlight.

Mad Girl
Thought Provoker
United States
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Forum Posts: 183

Home Sweet Home

They say that "Home is where the heart is".
But what happens when for so long you didn't have a home?
And your heart was broken in two?
What do you have then?
I never got an answer and in all honesty still can't find one.
I tried turning a small hotel room into a home.
And I tried mending my shattered and dead heart.
But it hurt too much.
Because there was always the emptiness inside of my chest.
Longing from what I had but didn't anymore.
A lost love that was based on nothing but madness and lies.
Something that took me over a year to stop denying.
And to stop breaking my heart over it every single time.
And then the smallness of that hotel room.
It made my bones stick together.
It made me feel like the walls were closing in.
Like I was falling down the rabbit hole.
And that was the madness.
Falling but never stopping--
Sleeping but never dreaming--
Dreaming but never waking--

But that was then-- Over a year ago.
Broken hearts have finally healed.
And I can say her name without wanting to burn the taste off my tongue.
And my heart doesn't ache when I think of what I could've or should've said.
Done right or wrong.
Or not have done at all.
Sometimes I have nightmares but that's nothing new.
I'll always have nightmares.
It's what people with PTSD do.
I've lost more things since moving into this place.
I've been put down beyond reason.
My past, my problems, threatened hospitalization thrown in my face.
But it's a home and inside it a Christmas tree glows bright with lights.
That shimmer on the pretty bows on the gifts wrapped in green and red that lie beneath it's branches and on it's skirt.
Making me bounce with a giddy feeling that one day my son will have.
The idea of opening presents on Christmas morning.
The magical glow in the dawn of childhood.
And the house is filled with the cries and laughs of my almost one year old son.
My boyfriend plays video games and holds me while I sleep.
I hug my son every morning and kiss him goodnight every night.
My mother and I argue but we still love each other.
This my home.
Finally after so long.
So much pain, and lose, and heartbreak.
I have a home, rough around the edges but still a home.
This is my home sweet home.
And it's where my heart now resides.

Thought Provoker
United States
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I will not ever need a huge, flashy mansion.
I don't want anything like that.
My ideal home is a simple house,
Filled with the warmth of love,
And shared with my future family,
My husband and children.
Home is where your heart resides,
Home is where your love lives.

Guardian of Shadows
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Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 15181

Home, if only I know Where

I am going home
to where a warmth
is waiting

I am going home
to angel eyes
gossamer kisses
a waiting hand

I am going home
where my heart is
It is there somewhere
if I only know where

But I know that Home
is where you cannot
be turned away
you will always be taken in.

Tyrant of Words
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One grey couch
by a single bed
surrounded by books
in a corner apartment
full of noise.
In a large city
where hope is just a word
in the dictionary
but happiness swirls
in my cup of coffee
while taking a stroll through Du
discovering a colorful world
of artistry

Tyrant of Words
Sierra Leone
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Joined 16th Apr 2013
Forum Posts: 3304


I wake to centuries gone by
encased in each excruciating minute

I'm without you.

Hallucinations drench my pillow and echo
the forgotten 

Off walls that no longer mimic our laughter.

There's no one to sip the sunrise with 
nor drown in the moonlight for. 

You left.

Yet I'm evicted.


Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 8th June 2013
Forum Posts: 1594


Enter this dank abode
If you dare
Skulls line the walls
Steam rises
From lava pits

Cauldrons bubble with
Blood of Gods
The things that slither
In shadow
Await my heated breath.

Candle push against
The gloom
A loosing battle
In this tomb
Bare feet on bloody floors
Rise of blades
Above the sacrifice

High in mountains
Above men
Winter winds sing their
Secrets to me
The moon shines her
Light on me
As I weave incantations

poet Anonymous

I got better luck than 'da Titanic

Home is where 'da heart is. It's warm way up in there. That warmth is a thing called love!!!! I gotta big problem though. I mean it's a big big big big problem! I lost my heart a long thyme ago. It got flushed. I ain't got no home no more. I make my home out of werds & phrases now. I configure them. I place them into sentences. If it rhymes it's by mistake. I ain't know rhymer. I'm a prose guy. I still think 'bout 'dem roses. Damn it!!!! Look at that peeple!!!! I rhymed 'dis thyme. There's hope for me yet. I'm gonna werk on my spellin' next thyme.


It's more than 50 werds----I don't care about winnin'.  All I call about is grinnin' & wrytin' poietree!

poet Anonymous

A dwelling
where I feel warm
 at ease
  and wanted

so home?
 I'm still looking
  and in need
   of a good
    real estate agent

Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 19th Jan 2012
Forum Posts: 2374

when mixing oil paints
into each other, or with a medium
there is a very fine line,   where
the vibrancy and deliberacy is unmatched
but go one cunt hair too far, it suffocates
less alive than mud

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