My Home

Written about my old theater in high school

Home

Is the creaky stage

Where you can see the dust

Fly out of the cracks

Home

Is the faded rust orange curtains

That squek when you pull them open or shut

Home

Is the broken light bord

With half the kights missing

In red white and blue

Home

Is the ripped chairs

That stick when you try

To pull them down

Home

Is the noisy light cage

The two out of tune pianos

And all the layers of paint on the wall

Home

Is being torn down now

Never to return only

Something new to call

Home

With it's oh so new smell

And high tech lights and junk

But this will never be

Home

To me

Author's Note

Please ignore my spelling and grammar thanks!

Reviews

[John]

I like the allusion the the creaky stage in the beginning and the broken down decor mentioned frequently throughout the entire poem. It shows how even things that seem destroyed and meaningless can sometimes have the greatest value to them. All in all though I think my favorite part about the poem was the simple relaxed rythem it had. Good work.