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

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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.

[Audrey Howitt]

Lovely job Tate. I love the final stanza. And the abstract suits you!

[KAREN]

It's very beautiful. The words makes the reader think of past memories of family, times spent together, where we played when younger, dreams that were made. Really brings tears to the eyes, because you miss them days, wish you could go back in time.

[Crowley]

Way to step out a bit Tate, this was a wonderful mix of emotion and nostalgia and comes to a fine point. I was reading your notes and what you were saying reminded me of the video for the Avett Brothers "Head Full of Doubt" you can see it on You Tube, but it reminds me of just what you were saying. Great job.

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the feel of the poem. I like the old trains. Where I live. You can hear them in the distance. Their sound bring back good places and people.
"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"
I like the song. Those old voices could make you wish for heaven when you were in hell. Thank you for photo and excellent poem.
Coyote

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[Margaret Marie Hubbard]

I love the play with words and style! It works quite well!!

[Alicia™]

A lovely poem from you, as usual, and I appreciate the imagery.

[roy mccarthy]

beautiful piece tate!
as usual the music adds that magic touch,
the poem itself almost gives the feel of a song,
of a reminisce,
great work!

[Muse]

You need to pursue this style of writing more my friend. Your execution is beautiful.
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
These lines deserve a song!

[Samuel Dickens]

I suppose most every generation laments the passing of that which they grew up with, saying, "Things were better in the old days", and to them, that may be true. I don't miss eight-track tapes, but would dearly love to see the old sense of civility return. Remember when religion and political affiliation was a personal thing that didn't get you demonized by those who differed? Yes, it's sad to see the old main streets, once so busy with shoppers, now dead---all the shoppers re-routed to the super Walmart. Surely "progress" is not always a good thing.