A lake side rest. A trip through a town to see the sights. A few nights avoiding grizzly bears on a mountain. Earning a few dollars here and there using his skills. Jim had seen and done many things during his time on the road. Once he would have been considered a hobo. In essence he was homeless but he was happy seeing the things he wanted to see. Still…
He dialled the number he knew from memory. No answer so he left a message. “HI honey. It’s Dad. I am passing through soon and would like to visit you.”
A Drabble of Wanderlust (apologizes for the sober tone.)
Helsinki Finland 1944
Toivo had just been released from a field hospital on the outskirts of Helsinki. He was anxious to return home to his beloved wife Lilia, Onni his son and Anneli his daughter. He had been away three years, fighting for his homeland. His wanderlust dream was replaced now by a countryside of death and destruction. His family had promised to make their way to the coastal town of Hanko if they survived.
Toivo walked thirty straight hours, walking barefoot after his boots gave out. Arriving now, he tearfully overlooked the town in ruins. He was now alone.
Face to Face with a Chair Named Claire (100words) )
The hollowness of her face cushions my cheeks. Claire the Bear, a ragged bear clawed chair. Her upholstery ripped like she'd be in a fight. I tossed a slip cover over her, but she needed more. Stripped her tangled, torn tresses. Gave my empress a new expression. She slides easily across the floor. Comforts my aching back. She's a lazy girl, versus boy. In the right position; in the middle of my room. Massages my tired feet, doesn't scratch nor bite. I adore my homecomings. Her Teddy Bear soft arms absorb my tears; fears. Face to face, sighs, welcome home.
Homeless I’ve wandered and wondered
Will I ever find a place to land?
A sense of community, family.
I met the boys…both cards and clowns.
They give an aspect of belonging.
Here people appreciate what I do.
Respect and friendships abound.
Giving me purpose,respites and kindness.
With ten floors filled with people who have unique stories
In a world where cruelty is common
I may have finally found
A domicile to call home.
Playing with using this as a blurb on back of current WIP novel? Family of choice, LGBTQ+ book 2 in series.
That's great news, Miguel! And how wonderful the flat is in a place you're already familiar with. Happy New Home to you both!
PROMPT: HOMECOMING
THE SOLDIER
Chasing shadows and,
Fighting wars, just longing to,
Be back home with you... 😎
Here's my poetry offering, hope it meets your expectations.
A compressed spring ready to flee,
run beyond borderlines,
yearning to be free.
Wandering beyond home is a virus,
and I'm a willing host for lust.
What I want to see?
More than what eyes can trust.
I want more life than I'm meant to live
and more love than I'm meant to give.
So glad you are a poet.
Think you're great and I know it.
Poetry is an adventure
Wanderlust is a tripper.
Through words and thoughts
Making magic that is sought
From the cosmos to the pen 🖊
Inspiration is kin
To making a cake from scratch
And baking it til it match
The words that you try to rhyme
Seek and you will find
That poetry delivers
Sometimes it makes me quiver
That I have come to the river
And the river answered back
And gave me magic I lacked.
Thank you, Jeannine !
Thank you , Scott!
A lake side rest. A trip through a town to see the sights. A few nights avoiding grizzly bears on a mountain. Earning a few dollars here and there using his skills. Jim had seen and done many things during his time on the road. Once he would have been considered a hobo. In essence he was homeless but he was happy seeing the things he wanted to see. Still…
He dialled the number he knew from memory. No answer so he left a message. “HI honey. It’s Dad. I am passing through soon and would like to visit you.”
100mg -- Wanderlust --- Microfiction
_______________________________________________
The postcard arrived with no return address—just a single word: wanderlust. It was scrawled over an image of cliffs they'd visited together.
Kat’s sister had vanished a year ago, last seen boarding a plane to nowhere specific, driven by an insatiable urge to roam.
The authorities ruled it a voluntary disappearance.
But now, Kat traced the handwriting, chills crawling up her spine. She packed a bag and flew to the cliffs.
There, in the cave beneath the overlook, she found her sister’s necklace—and a camera, recording, pointed into the dark.
A voice whispered from within, “Now, I have you both.”
Oooh, This is fascinating!
YAY, so happy for you, Miguel
A Drabble of Wanderlust (apologizes for the sober tone.)
Helsinki Finland 1944
Toivo had just been released from a field hospital on the outskirts of Helsinki. He was anxious to return home to his beloved wife Lilia, Onni his son and Anneli his daughter. He had been away three years, fighting for his homeland. His wanderlust dream was replaced now by a countryside of death and destruction. His family had promised to make their way to the coastal town of Hanko if they survived.
Toivo walked thirty straight hours, walking barefoot after his boots gave out. Arriving now, he tearfully overlooked the town in ruins. He was now alone.
Home Coming:
Face to Face with a Chair Named Claire (100words) )
The hollowness of her face cushions my cheeks. Claire the Bear, a ragged bear clawed chair. Her upholstery ripped like she'd be in a fight. I tossed a slip cover over her, but she needed more. Stripped her tangled, torn tresses. Gave my empress a new expression. She slides easily across the floor. Comforts my aching back. She's a lazy girl, versus boy. In the right position; in the middle of my room. Massages my tired feet, doesn't scratch nor bite. I adore my homecomings. Her Teddy Bear soft arms absorb my tears; fears. Face to face, sighs, welcome home.
Congratulations! Small towns are the best! I'm loving your poetry, btw.
Thanks! Small towns are indeed the best ❤️ I can’t wait to be back home 😁
They say you can’t go home again,
The place just can’t be found.
I tried and then learned, to my pain,
My Home Sweet Home’s razed to the ground.
Even my memory’s failed me,
The address swept clean, erased.
My Home Sweet Home, where can it be?
It’s forever lost in the wilderness.
Don’t mourn the homecoming that can’t be,
Don’t cry for faded walls displaced,
Don’t weep for lost fields, crops, and trees,
For Home Sweet Home is not a place.
Wherever I may wander, wherever I may roam,
I carry Home Sweet Home with me, we’ll never be apart.
It will never really leave me, I’ll always feel at home,
For everything I’ve ever loved is living in my heart.
The Monkees not only did it, they set it to music. Daydream Believer. That's it.
Congratulations 🎉 so pleased for you.
&Great poem too. I rapped it in my head as I read 😊
Thank you Diane!
Each time you cross the threshold they look older than before.
The beloved folks who made you and who soon will be no more.
The air is thick with memories as they strain and cough up phlegm
You're thinking less of history than that someday you’ll be them
Each visit conjures up the past
But it isn’t that at all
You realize that it’s just a glance
Into a crystal ball
You get deep when you do poetry!
I know, I can’t do my usual subjects nothing rhymes with mafia!
That just might be a good thing...