When Homes Become Houses

by Poet on the Piano   May 17, 2013


At times, I just want to get out of here.
This place has memories, where I sinned,
where others I loved placed their first
angry hand into the face of another.

But I am not an adult yet.
Where will I go once I find work?
How can I support myself when I go
back and forth between wanting the
world to hear me and not knowing
how to move ahead,
like planting my feet off train tracks
because they always land in the same
spot.

Banners proclaiming 'the past does
not define you' lay underneath my
fingernails.
Don't tell anyone, but sometimes I believe
these concepts aren't always real.

No matter how many times a child
throws pennies down a wishing well,
or a friend writes down in an aurora
of colors "don't let the past mark you",
we all are faced with demons

(they spit and claw at our pores
until we're melting onto the floor
with sweat down our legs and tears
like a puddle we found ourselves
face down in)

After all, we can't even drag ourselves
off the feet from a simple phrase,
"you're never going to get anywhere in
life if you can't kill a freakin' bug".

We are chased by our consequences,
and though I cry that he just be
my protector, helping with little things
and never mocking me for
speaking of fears,

I must be reminded-
I've lost his respect too many times...

    report violation
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Latest Comments

  • 11 years ago

    by Jenni Marie

    Judging comment:

    "I am always pleased to see a new poem from Mary-Anne, and this certainly didn't disappoint. I keep rereading this and each time I do I find myself drawn even deeper into it. The melancholic tone present from begining to end sets such a sombre tone for the poem and it's saddening that this is most likely experienced by so many people throughout life, as we grow older. "wanting the world to hear me and not knowing how to move ahead," I thought this was perfect. We all imagine, and at times even yearn, for that moment when we are truly independant and making our mark in the world-and yet there is always that unspoken fear of the unknown. Towards the end I thought you were talking to God because of the mention of being your protector and yet when I reach the last two lines I have to wonder if it's a loved one you are referring to, and I find I can't decide which way to go here which makes this poem even more beautiful to me as it's left open for my own interpretation(s). Lovely work as always. "

  • 11 years ago

    by Abed

    I love your style.
    Our past is a devil/angel that can never be shaken off our shoulders.

  • 11 years ago

    by Courageous Dreamer

    I know that whatever you're meant to do in life will find it's way and guide you there. I can see you maturing here, it's a huge stage in life and one that could make or break you sometimes. Moving away from your 'home' is always so hard, I have yet to do so but it's truly where all your childhood memories were made and a huge part of you remains. But at some point in your life which may be soon, it has to happen. What is best for you will find it's way though, no need to worry :) It's never a bad thing to question it though since essentially it's your decision as to what you wish your future to be like. Lovely poem!

  • 11 years ago

    by Meme

    The title itself was so deep in its meaning... Home is a feeling not a place, but its us who who choose certain places places to come home. But when someone goes from calling a certain place a "home" to calling it simply a "house" this shows that the person has detached is feelings, mor is no longer nostalgic to it.

    Great piece.. :)

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