I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

6 September 2015

On My Return
















Rain clouds gather.
I catch them
from several angles.

My strange tree
a wild weed
missed that grew

waves thin strands
its topmost branches
against the grey.

My mind goes
back to trams
in bleak Melbourne

crossing dark streets
of wind-whipped leaves
two days ago

in extreme cold
knowing: there is family
here is home.
















 Top picture: over my garden, Murwillumbah, NSW, where I have just returned. 
Bottom picture: streets near Pascoe Vale South, Melbourne, Vic., where I was recently visiting family. 

 The poem was not immediately understood by everyone, so I hope the words I've now added to the caption above make it clearer.

Written for Flash 55 at imaginary garden with real toads 
and also linked to Poets United's Poetry Pantry #268
By -
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36 comments:

  1. Blogoratti6 September 2015 at 19:44

    What a wonderful piece, so vivid. Greetings!

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  2. Kerry O'Connor6 September 2015 at 20:27

    I like the narrative of this poem, Rosemary. Home is every journey's end.

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  3. Sanaa Rizvi6 September 2015 at 21:36

    Oh this is so beautiful.... loved the narration and that picture says it all :D

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  4. Jae Rose6 September 2015 at 21:38

    There is indeed no place like it - where our heart belongs..a beautiful poem that is so relatable...

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  5. X6 September 2015 at 21:55

    It is an interesting strand that runs through from the tree of the (wild roots) to family that you are on your way to see. Ha. And what we will go through in order to see them, care for them.

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  6. Old Egg6 September 2015 at 21:58

    I pictured you describing yourself as "strange tree a wild weed missed that grew" coming home. Beautifully written.

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  7. Fireblossom6 September 2015 at 22:44

    Nothing like sight of home on a dreary day.

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  8. Mary6 September 2015 at 22:48

    So true -- the place where family is may not be where 'home' is. Home is where we want it to be, where we are most comfortably ourselves!

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  9. nan6 September 2015 at 23:34

    This poem touched me deeply! I too am that strange tree...wild weed, missed that grew... finding home here (in the extreme cold) and family there. This is terrific.

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  10. Sumana Roy6 September 2015 at 23:44

    " there is family / here is home."...how true!....

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  11. hedgewitch7 September 2015 at 00:16

    A nice tension between 'here' and 'there'--and the descriptions are very vivid and real to eye and mind .I love especially the opening and closing lines.

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  12. Gillena Cox7 September 2015 at 00:18

    Home is home, i quite understand

    have a nice Sunday Rosemary

    much love...

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  13. Magaly Guerrero7 September 2015 at 00:33

    So much happens--in the world and in the heart--during a storm, during a trip, when change and misses make themselves known.

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  14. Steve King7 September 2015 at 01:33

    Rosemary,
    I think understood what you intended...the clouds may endure from place to place, but home is an emotional safe house and shelter. This is a comforting idea.
    Steve K.

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  15. brudberg7 September 2015 at 02:48

    Home is something that might not be what you think at first. Home is what you feel is home...

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  16. Susan7 September 2015 at 02:55

    Times like these I am glad I missed the weed. It greets me. Here needs me. There, I am visiting.

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  17. Debi Swim7 September 2015 at 03:50

    Susan's right. There I am visiting and it is wonderful but home is here and always calls me back. And, I think that is the way it should be.

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  18. Donna@LivingFromHappiness7 September 2015 at 06:32

    Oh it is so nice to see home and family...mine has moved and it feels gone and missed now.

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  19. Outlawyer7 September 2015 at 07:49

    Hey Rosemary--you give a wonderful feeling here of the different angles one feels returning--the different tugs--you are succinct yet vivid. Thanks. k.

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  20. Sherry Blue Sky7 September 2015 at 09:07

    "Here is home" - says it all. Fun to go away, always great to get back to one's own little nest.

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  21. Matthew Henningsen7 September 2015 at 09:24

    My mind goes back to trams in bleak Melbourne... I love this line!

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  22. Hannah7 September 2015 at 09:43

    I love your descriptions of the sky and tree!! Wonderful work. :)

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  23. kaykuala7 September 2015 at 10:10

    in extreme cold
    knowing: there is family
    here is home.

    Home is where the heart is certainly, Rosemary!

    Hank

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  24. Maude Lynn7 September 2015 at 10:54

    "wild weed missed." That is lovely. Gorgeous imagery throughout, Rosemary.

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  25. Wendy Bourke7 September 2015 at 12:12

    Wonderful juxtaposition of home and family against the trams of bleak Melbourne. A lovely bit of writing!

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  26. Aditi7 September 2015 at 16:48

    Being a hippie at heart, I could completely feel the last stanza. Beautiful imagery, works really well with the picture.

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  27. Other Mary8 September 2015 at 02:00

    Ah, home and family... you pluck so many strings in my heart with this.

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  28. Jim8 September 2015 at 06:09

    Nice 55, Rosemary.
    We much prefer Sidney to Melbourne. "Home (though,) is where your heart is," some will say. I could place my heart in Sidney.
    ..

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    Replies
    1. Rosemary Nissen-Wade8 September 2015 at 11:27

      I dislike cities, therefore Sydney is even worse than Melbourne to me. :)

      Delete
  29. Yvonne Osborne8 September 2015 at 11:20

    I like your opening stanza, then all the way through to the end.

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  30. Gail8 September 2015 at 13:59

    Absolutely wonderful

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  31. Gen Giggles 9 September 2015 at 09:39

    Great poem.

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  32. Anonymous10 September 2015 at 03:19

    I relate to this fully. Once wrote of myself as the weed in my mother's garden. Love the photo, but then trees have ever been a strong current within my reality, and I really like how you moved from the tree to coming home. Thank you,

    Elizabeth

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  33. Locomente11 September 2015 at 19:39

    Nothing like home and family... well conveyed!

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  34. Joshua Sutherland Allen13 September 2015 at 22:55

    "There is family/here is home": the way that this couplet appeals to the ear really illustrates the theme and conclusion of your poem.

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