Home is where the heart is

Without the hearts of its occupants home is just a shell.

Laughing children and muddy wellies

Strewn up the hall of home

Into the kitchen to fill up their bellies

They sit and mess with their phones.

 

The Boy’s are having a play fight

While the dog is chasing its ball

The TV blares to no one

While the table lamp takes a fall

 

Mum is in the kitchen

 Baking hot cross buns

Stirring mugs and washing up

Her work is never done

 

People come and people go

A chat a muse to ponder

Cold hands around hot coffee

Amongst the noise and blunder

 

Home is were the heart is

Mother takes it all

Without her heart and children

Home would mean nothing at all.

Author's Note

A nest is home with birds in it, when they fly the nest it is a pile of twigs. Shack or mansion, without hearts it can never be home.

Reviews

[Laughing-Bear]

My Dearest Writing Friend From Across The Pond,
I’ve been musing on this poem for quite some time. Tonight as my pipes smoke hovers before my fire I thought just how much this smoke reminded me of my mum. Always hovering around as if carefully, but silently observing all, bringing a sweet essence to life, calming my soul.
My mum was raising four kids all by her self; my dad was a deadbeat dad. But between the two of us working, and help from the Great Mystery we managed to keep the wolves at bay. My mum was my first hero; she still is a hero in my eyes. And in spite of having very little our home was the place all the neighborhood kids wanted to be. Usually around the kitchen where homemade cookies were served, board games were worn out, and loving council was given to her own four and scores more. And many called her mum.
To this day I still believe that Mums have the hardest, but least appreciated in the eyes of many societies job on Earth bar none. So often I’ve heard someone ask a mum what do you do for a living? A reply would be I’m a mum! Then I’d here okay, but what do you do for a living. This would so piss me off as though the job of mother did not mater. I think this actually makes God cry.
I wrote some time back a poem concerning mums this. “A Mom is a name, but a Mother is a heart, the first like a fridge, the latter relishes her part”.
As I have come to know you, your past has been revealed to me. I have the greatest respect for you as you quit the for sure job and launched a big if it goes wrong I’m screwed career for yourself. You did this so you could be home to be a mum to your children putting them first.
Now I know there are mothers that love their job as mum, but cant find a way to be home all the time, as my mum couldn’t. These mums have a heart as well. To those who had no choice but to work outside the home and at home, and to all those who were able to be at home, I thank you. There must be a special place in heaven amongst the stars for such special, unselfish spirits.
I loved this write, one of my personal favorites I’ve read at the Café. And what the hell is a “wellies”?

Blessings, Your BillBear

[TrimarcoRansome]

Dear BillBear, you have so much to learn....Wellies, Wellington boots? In Australia they call them Gum boots, I'm not sure what you call them on your side of the pond. Enlighten me!
A friend read this poem and she said " When I have looked after your animals for you when you have been away, this house is not the same without you in it" Thank you for such lovely words.
Yours
Helen

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i wish more people would read this and understand...home really is where the heart is...but today it doesn't seem to have the same meaning as it used to...we are too busy being everywhere else..and with all the cell phones and texting and such..even when we are together we are not.

this poem warmed my spirit...made me remember the good old days.

jacob

[TrimarcoRansome]

You understood it exactly, Jacob! People are so concerned with making their homes being show homes with everything in its place and being elsewhere on phones etc that they do not understand the true meaning of the saying... Which is so sad. Society is losing the very essence of family.
Helen

[John Phoenix Hutchinson..]

Ha :) Lovely poem and the laugh comes from respectively knowing what your talking about.......heart is the foundation. X

[TrimarcoRansome]

Thank you, John! yes you do know what I talk of and a welcome friend x