Hills of Home

Hills of Home

A Poem by Tate Morgan
"

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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© 2017 Tate Morgan



Author's Note

Tate Morgan
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.

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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.

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Classic romanticism in this piece.

Posted 6 Years Ago


I like the idea of your questioning manifest destiny. Roarke has some excellent points that echo my sentiments pretty closely. A timeless message.

Posted 6 Years Ago


Stunning write and message you portray is so nice indeed !!!

Posted 6 Years Ago


It was hard to understand a the it of comfort I felt in the sadness of this poem. It was a surprise to find that link that connected back to home in every stanza. In the wilderness of each stanza lies that bit of hope. This poem is very spiritual and timeless. All of one's ancestors can be felt watching over. Home in this poem seems to be God's country.

Posted 6 Years Ago


I really enjoyed reading this. It portrays a really interesting perspective and it is a collection of thoughts that I can agree with. I think you did a really great job. Thank you for directing me to it.

Posted 6 Years Ago


I personally think you are succeeding at the abstract. I think of Chernobyl and the way nature is slowly reclaiming it now that it hasn't been lived in for 25 years and in 25 more it might be a forest once more. Ashes to Ashes and Dust to Dust, the earth will eventually show not trace of the blight that it calls man

Posted 6 Years Ago


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.

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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87 Reviews
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Added on September 25, 2011
Last Updated on September 23, 2017
Tags: : poetry, Life, Sad, adventure, mystery, pain, poem, romance, story, death, fantasy, fiction, heart, love


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