Hills of Home

Bells of the town clock tower took too much from you and me Yet off to the rock and river they give of life for eternity

Wind ran by to kiss your cheek

round your neck our gilded hopes hung

The hand of God flowed soft within

from when he was happy and young

______________________________

Forget the nights of wanton desire

give to me not love nor tears

Evenings filled with endless dreams

bring me safe from all life's fears

______________________________

Your beauty is so great to bear

my chest hardly held its ache

For beauty more than bitter tears

will make the soft heart break

______________________________

Bells of the town clock tower

took too much from you and me

Yet off to the rock and river

they gave of life for eternity

______________________________

How often did we pass each other

o'er the long years as others do

Ne'er  once daring to ride the fire

to heavens door we never knew

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Author's Note

This is my first attempt at something a bit abstract. So please bear with me as I learn.
In our great attempt at manifest destiny we have left so many families broken apart, estranged, lost to the winds of time. Even now we let our cities die as we build ever outward to the horizons. We are in such a hurry to make our mark on this world we forget the most important thing, home. Is any man strong enough that he never need to lean on the foundation that bore him to adulthood? As in the times of the ancient mariner we all hear the call of sirens that gesture us to sail home. Continuity of purpose flows from the wellspring of our lives. In the end we all find we are drawn inexorably home, to the hearth from around which we told our tales of long ago and spun our yarns of a life well lived. The well spent life will always beckon from the winds of change a call for home.

Reviews

[roarke]

home is many things. The hearth, heart.... it's an age old concept, not always evident in modern times. But visible or not, it's the same, "never risking once to ask the way..." What should be instinctual from cradle now is disintegrated into many disconnected parts, waiting for each one to find it and fashion it anew.... difficult task. Ah, continuity of purpose... intentions, home isn't made of serendipity... the hearth fire isn't the glow of a flat screen.... the dry, warm, quiet inner security isn't provided by gated community security....
Heaven's door, the eternal home.

[Mary]

Beautifully penned, start to end. Indeed the call for home is great for those who listen. added to my favorites.

[J. J. Nightingale]

Rose Bud .....................



Jazz ..

[My Fair Lady]

A refreshingly different piece of writing, yet still uniquely Tate Morgans pen. The reflection of ones home, not always brilliant and wonderful. Sometimes bittersweet in the shaping of a soul. Here the tale of that shaping is clear and evident almost as if shuffling through a box of old photgraphs of people and places we have never known but are somehow strangely familiar. This is how it is with you Tate, creating those familiar feelings of life lived, even though we cannot know the face in the photo, we definately know the experience.

[Pratik]

This is amazing Tate... like all your poems it breaths a gust of fresh air :) How beautifully have you brought out that love for family and home.. Wonderful work :)

[Lilly]

The opening lines of this poem I thought were lovely "Wind ran by to kiss your cheek
round your neck our gilded hopes hung"
I also love the last stanza - thought provoking words.

I have to agree- one way or another, in the end, we are drawn to 'home' - wherever and whatever that may be to each person. - A physical place, being with particular people, doing certain things...

Great poem here Tate.

[Adelia Alighieri]

How beautiful is this? I read your poems, they are so realistic, they tell me the truth about how life influences us. This just adds to them, well done!

[Penlady]

It is a mystery the passing in the night, people do. The longing for the FEELING of hearth and home is I think that back porch swing that draws. Love is so evident in so much of life. If we lose it then we realize its treasure. Are able to recognize what it can be and what it is.

[Stammers]

this was really beautiful,

Bells of the town clock tower
took too much from you and me

perfect lines :)

[Manpreet]

I simply loved it. A perfect write about all those floating love stories of young age

[DiMar4u]

"how often did we pass each other....never daring to turn the key" i really dug this one tate. reminds me of the song "my eyes adored you" thank you for sharing brotha.