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.

[Rikkevi Rue]

So true my friend...IF your home still exists! When you consider the many centuries wherein people were transient, or the lands they called "home" were taken away or they were driven out, it takes on even a more bittersweet significance that here is the USA we are so fortunate to have such a thing as generations of families all living on the same land. And even then it is often lost, or the thread is broken from one generation to the next, or land sold or families estranged. So the OH-SO-FORTUNATE go on and have that safe place to return to...which really IS sad if it is let go or forgotten. As usual you of course capture the drama and artfully embrace the relevant emotions, on of your great abilities.

[Rene Velez]

Marvelous wordplay and imagery, most will relate to this in profound ways, home is where the heart is and always will be...well done.

[Kenneth The Poet]

Just brilliant. It may be abstract, but I see this work as being an opening to the future.

[An owl on the moon]

There is a beautiful extravagence in the history unfolding here... the wonder of those songs played out before us... danced to by those so long distant... We are connected to past, present, and future and your words confess the music of that mingling..

[TL Boehm]

wow. the inevitable what if....this piece was articulate - tinged with that mix of sorrow and remorse - I found it beautiful

[emmajoy]

Your attempt at the abstract is done finely and you've done so without overdoing the dramatic - or if you prefer, the far-fetched. At first i thought this was about the past, roots, whats endures, but seems it's actually about you and where you need to be.

Sorry, had to shut off the music coz it was diluting my concentration. Great picture!

[realmwriter]

Abstarct it may be but still the message is loud and clear. Has no trouble at all bleeding through. This for me rings crisp and true...!

[R J Askew]

I like the last two verses the best. There was a real sense of place and passing there. Well done. Keep at it mate. Also the image you have chosen to go with the poem conveys the sense of strength gone, lost, no more. But we have to go on with new strength, right/

[Mark]

I KNEW there was something distinctly non-Tateian in this piece, but couldn't put my finger on it until I read your Author's note! You actually used symbols, Tate, metaphors! This is NOT abstract, though, as you suppose, but it IS a poet's very meat and drink, and I commend you on a fine job. Particularly fond of the first line: "Wind ran by to kiss your cheek". From that moment, I knew you were beating a new tack, and I am IMPRESSED!