Finding Home

Tags

coronavirus, demons, home, poem, poetry, quarantine, quarantined, writer

Very often, home is within these walls
A place of captivity
A prison. Even when you’re free.
But I’ve made homes outside the world
Some, I carry no word nor trace to relive the place
Some, I’ve started tsunamis, raging in lullabies that’ll echo my name
Till the end of earth.
I made a home when it was taken from me—
A place to be-long
Safe, open and delicious.
Right here. Inside of me.

@Sircharlesthepoet

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Send your blessings, payers, good wishes or anything uplifting to the people who are quarantined with somebody who they don’t really get along with. Some of these people are kids stuck at home with poisonous parents because they don’t have the escape of school. Some of them are couples having to stay at home with an abusive partner. Others are people who constantly have to face anxiety, worry or discomfort due to who they’re stuck with or due to some things that they’ve experienced in the past.
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The ability to be by yourself is important, but not everyone can afford that. Being able to disconnect from a fast paced life is great but, for some others, that means being stuck with their demons–and that’s never an easy fight.
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On another topic, I wanted to address this “home” idea. I moved around a few times, as a kid–both from house to house and from family to family–so this idea of “home” has always been interesting to me. “Home is where you belong” but I don’t belong anywhere, so what do I do? Do I have no home? Is this concept of “home” only for those who are privileged enough?
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I’ve realized that “home” doesn’t have to be a physical place at a specific address. Home can be being around some people. Home can be multiple places around the world where you’ve found acceptance. Home can be wherever you’ve left a piece of yourself, and it was loved. Home can be you. Home can be within your own headspace. That way, wherever you are, you feel at home :).

Above the River

Tags

above the river, Anger, authenticity, city, city poetry, happiness, home, poem, poetry, poetrybycharlesjoseph, relief, trains, writer

Don’t listen to music when on the train.
You’ll find different conversations
Between the rails and humans
Or the silent angers,
Slight annoyance by others
That never escape the heart
Until the train escapes the tunnel
And light rushes in through the window,
Giving the rails much reasons to scandal
Rosetta Stone couldn’t understand them.
But they understood us
Leading our way through the serio-us
Escaping the hole of shadows with glee
Above rivers imitating the sea.
Then anger calms down to a blissful cheer
With the river humming, “Home is near”

IG: @Sircharlesthepoet

Domino Pieces (Part 2)

Tags

cheers, excitement, Haiti, home, metaphor, nostalgia, poem, poetry, pride, puns, sunrise, sunset, writing

It reminds me of Home.

Where exclamations did not reach stopping points

Where grown men roared

With growls and excitement stretching for

Ears of neighborhoods behind where the sun sets.

Oh, these men moved mountains

Each time the reoccurring cheers and slams were

Daring

Enough to penetrate dreams.

And the women moved mountains, too.

Whenever whatever stops them

From seeing where the sun rise.

Domino Pieces (part one)

Tags

background, Brooklyn, culture, Domino, Haiti, Haitian, home, new York, NYC, poem, Poetic, poetry, Words, write

On the corner of Troy and Eastern Parkway,

There’s a hive of Haitians.

Swarming an old wooden table

Skeleted with Domino Pieces

Summoning loud conversations about…

Who knows?
It attracts me Home
It attracts me Home.

Where these old tables are glistened to look new

With skinny metal legs twisting

“I need to pee”

Yet, it still withstood the exhilarating slams

Of Domino Pieces.

Reverberating magnificent melody behind mountains;

An echo that seizes attention,

Ask for respect–your temptation.
It reminds me of Home

“Get Home Safe”

Tags

Care, home, love, loyal, loyalty, Passion, peace, poem, poet, poetry, safe, travel, writing, young

“Don’t tell me what to do” 
“No promises”

But we knew
We would be chained to each other’s wishes.
A care even earth
Has seemed to be loss of words to 
Though it has witnessed
The spectrum of men’s feelings.