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Created on: October 12, 2008
SENSE OF PLACE
I sit upon the pebbled shore
Passing time, gone before
I cast a thought into the blue
Catch the waves, think of you
I look upon the coloured ground
All are lost, to be found
I hear the call of distant gull
My mind awash, as greyish dull
I smell the salty sea fresh air
A coldness dawns, now to bear
I taste the hurt of fallen time
My way is lost, sunken rhyme
I feel unsure on shifting sand
Long for earth, there to land
I sense a place is calling me
A place called home
Where I am free
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Poetry: Home
by Jim Jordan
Happy
outside the old farmhouse
a white glow behind me.
Summer winds pat my forehead cool,
winds whose higher cousins cause
When I feel the east breeze caress my hair
watch the red sun sink quietly low
smell the soft flower of spring in the air
Being called home
I lay in this bed, so much going through my head.
I see my loved ones who have gone before me, I must choose
Home is Beyond the Horizon.
I'm leaving Home
tomorrow when
the sun rises.
I'm telling you
this now,
because
I know
how much
A dusty road gives lessons of perspective
Vanishing in the distance to a point
A lazy propeller makes a droning buzz
A grumble
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