Tag Archives: home

when did home become a four-letter word (part III)

the very idea of that special
(a-ha!) “light bulb moment”
has lost much of its immediacy
in this the era of the energy-
saving globe, as with the flick
of a switch our homes are instead
idly lit by the sickly flicker of
a fluorescent glow

for sadly banished
—in the name of
forward thinking—
are those incandescent
flashes of brilliant
vision forever more
to be viewed hereafter
as the stuff of yore

the modern mindset now insists
on this cold, scientific glare
reminiscent of being strapped
to the dentist’s chair, I fear, as
opposed to the original spirit of
edison’s genius invention of
so many merry yesteryears

indeed such a luddite as I am
I would feel far more delight to
bathe in candlelight than
to spend my life illuminated
by the excitation of a host of
so-called noble gases, these
unholy ghosts we keep trapped
like fireflies in vacuum bottles

and, yes, while I know we’re told the
environment itself alone demands
we fix our wicked ways I can’t help
but feel the sting of restricted mental
freedom as to how we choose to dispel
the fast-approaching loss of light within the
benighted halls of our much-belovéd homes.


* Please note, while not directly influenced by Don’s latest post (Light And Dark Holding Hands) on his Candid Impressions blog, I feel I must admit to a certain indebtedness within this poem to his thoughts around the subject of how we perceive light and dark in our lives. Inspiration comes in many forms, and I can’t entirely exclude the fact that I owe some credit to Don’s post, having read it prior to completing part III of my larger “when did home become a four-letter word” cycle. Either way, I would recommend all bloggers to check out Don’s site regardless, as it is always well worth a visit! 🙂

when did home become a four-letter word

homely is a much
maligned term
in this sadly crazy
world driven mad by
the insipid railings of
those twin false prophets
glamor and glory

equally unjust is how
homespun should now
have become synonymous
with hokey, as wisdom
edges closer to becoming
a dish served in pre-packaged
portions washed down with
obligatory buckets of Gatorade
consumed in front of each garishly
televised new year’s parade

for goodness’ sake
in the midst of all this
uncultured chaos, I ask
what’s so wrong with
bed socks and breakfasts
over easy before noon
shared with a good book
no appointments and
the telephone off the hook?

why is it the thought
of this private sanctuary
dedicated to familial bliss
should be so injurious to some
I wonder is it because
there is not a dollar to be made
from the business of minding
one’s own…for really what
danger is it that we speak of
when we say we’re feeling
right at home…


In travel there always exists
the promise of escape
from the mundane
certainties of life
meaning that the allure of
the luggage carousel
and those lengthy stopovers
spent in a string of exotic
foreign restrooms seems
somehow preferable to
the familiar well-worn
routines of staying
snug at home.

Surviving the Generation Gap

this is the cry
of the parent waiting
for the parent
in absentia
to come home
and soothe the hurt
even when there is none
no mother or father left
to come home to
whatever place
that might
now be
without them.