home

NaPoWriMo Day 7 – The Great Divide

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

The prompt today was to create a poem that is also in the form of a list.

The Great Divide

To make a home you need more than bricks and mortar
Or well seasoned timbers.
You need money to furnish your nest
With warm beds and comfortable chairs
And food in the fridge and the cupboards.

Your cupboards must never be empty.
Love is never enough when you’re hungry
And you have no money for pleasure.

What you may have is too much time.
You may try very hard to be happy
You may cling to each other with sadness
But the world won’t let love exist
When the power goes out in the winter
You children won’t stand a chance.

In an ideal world there is warmth and laughter
The table will never be empty.
The house will smell of warm baked bread
Angel cakes rise in the oven.

Outside the windows the sun will be shining.
You will sit in the shade in your garden
Watching your children play,
Forgetting the great divide
Between nothing at all and plenty

© A.Chakir 2023

Gone Back

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

today
for a moment
my mother was here

she told me
we could go back
to the house we all lived in
years before

she knew I’d be glad
there was a shine in her eyes
as she told me

tomorrow
through the doors of dementia
she will have wandered again
leaving me here

I will know
where she’s gone
she will think I am there
with everyone gathered once more

it’s a comfort
to know she got home
but she has left me alone

Growing Up with my Son

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

I dragged him down the road with me,
our life in carrier bags.
Nothing ever lasted long,
the good times or the bad.
He had no choice, nor did I.
With each inflicted change
the world was re-arranged.
We never had a peaceful home
that we could call our own.

I was lost,
I was young,
he was my loyal son.
I didn’t have a map.
I hope our road
through right and wrong,
was honest and had heart.
but bad luck played its part.

Some say I had courage.
Some say I was wild.
I’ll accept the judgment of
the man that was my child.

Back Again

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

The fire is laid.
The house is furnished
and here we are,
hopeful lovers,
passing by this way again.

No doubt the storms may sometimes blow.
We both still need to learn and grow.
This time though, it’s not the same.
Fear wont drive us both away.
The fire burns warm.
I fixed the roof against the rain.

This time darling,
through your tears,
you grew strong.
I couldn’t leave.
I had to stay.
You’re not alone.
We made it home.

Home

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

The river always pulled this way,
quiet in its flowing.
I followed close
but had no way of knowing.
I only had a longing,
undefined, unsatisfied,
a well too deep to fathom.
I bowed my head in sorrow.

But life is strange.
The river curved and flowed away.
I could only follow.
It lead me to a pasture.
The waters pooled.
The stars, reflected,
shifted,
a secret, silent mirror.

When night was at its darkest,
I made a lonely sojourn here,
So tired from this journey.

I lit a fire.
It flamed
It burned.
I built it to a beacon.
You saw it where you wandered.

Home was never truly home
until you came to share it.
The light was never quite so bright
nor the fire so strong
until you sat beside me.
And now each night
I sit with you
and count my lucky stars

No Home

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

every land is empty
i wander here and there
remembering the other times
i travelled here alone
~ without you there’s no home

time is passing slowly
the fires are turned to ash
i seek new wood to burn for you
a flame to light the way
but you can’t see the beacons
you’re too far away

the birds still sing
the river flows
i know these trodden ways
~ wherever i may roam
without you there’s no home

Je Regrette

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

I’m not going to bleed for you, darling.
I have sorrows enough of my own.
I wholeheartedly offered you home,
The one you rejected and left.

Now you must make your own.
I hope you find it within you soon.
My heart is a low-lit room,
I don’t forgive you yet.

Such an insensitive question.
Yes, there’s a ring on my finger,
A simple silver band,
Many long years on my hand.
I wear it for one simple reason,
To remind me I’m my own.

If my words trouble or hurt you,
I am very sorry for that.
I regret.

There’s only one place I escape to at night,
When I can’t get you out of my head.
I have to write.
If not, I would leave all my pages
Empty and woundedly white.

Tonight

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

sometimes, in silence, stillness seems like a gift
but tonight, like a desert, it’s arid and dry
i look up in hope, i let my mind drift,
i only see darkness and clouds passing by

i remember my travels in strange foreign lands
I remember the days when my roof was the sky
i measure the feeling, as I stare at my hands

the light gone, i sit here and wonder why
i still have a wish to wander and roam
and how did my journeys all end alone

the truth is,
my travels were all seeking home

The gifts

/ A. Gouedard / 1 Comment

She gave me the simple gift of a daisy

that shone in the sun for one day, long ago.

He gave me a strong staff to walk the wild hills,

I am walking them now, wondering still.

Both gifts are of equal value to me.

For these gifts, in return, I invited them home.

When the night falls the twins of the heavens hang high above

Symbolic stars in a union of love.

Apple Tree

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

you have stood on this ledge
in the mountains above,
on the edge of the forest,
ever since i was only an innocent child
listening to stories and scribbling poems
my spine rested against your strength

you stood, the same
in sunlight and starlight
in wild winds and rain
while I wandered about in the wood
finding the well trodden paths
getting lost but finding the way again

warm-hearted, abundant,
and welcoming still
I thank you for bringing me home