Array ( [sid] => 148884 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Once called home [time] => 2009-04-03 01:00:24 [hometext] => A little story bout my life hope it don`t scare you [bodytext] => Holding on to the past of years
Looking back upon my fears
Looking back upon my life
Thinking about what is lost

Playing in the fields of coal
Playing in the woods and parks
Playing with all my mates
Looking for that special place

Remembering the men I met
Remembering the times we had
Remembering I was just a child
Who liked any attention he could get

Never looking forward
Never looking back
Only looking at what I was doing
Never looking in his eyes

Childhood has to end
When the time is right
When a man takes it away
Premature or are we now mature?

10 years old and I remember it well
To the very second of the day
How I learned to become a man
To learn the secrets of adulthood

8 more years past so slow
8 more years like living in snow
8 more years of hurt and pain
8 more years of living with shame

So I start my journey to someplace else
Looking back upon the mess and tears
Looking back upon the barron waste lands
Upon the place I once called home [comments] => 1 [counter] => 222 [topic] => 31 [informant] => marcrob [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Once called home


Once called home
Date: Friday, 3rd April 2009 @ 01:00:24 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: marcrob
Holding on to the past of years
Looking back upon my fears
Looking back upon my life
Thinking about what is lost

Playing in the fields of coal
Playing in the woods and parks
Playing with all my mates
Looking for that special place

Remembering the men I met
Remembering the times we had
Remembering I was just a child
Who liked any attention he could get

Never looking forward
Never looking back
Only looking at what I was doing
Never looking in his eyes

Childhood has to end
When the time is right
When a man takes it away
Premature or are we now mature?

10 years old and I remember it well
To the very second of the day
How I learned to become a man
To learn the secrets of adulthood

8 more years past so slow
8 more years like living in snow
8 more years of hurt and pain
8 more years of living with shame

So I start my journey to someplace else
Looking back upon the mess and tears
Looking back upon the barron waste lands
Upon the place I once called home

This poem is Copyright © marcrob


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