leaving home

Learn more about other poetry terms

My house has died I know.... I passed by yesterday my snow angel yard  now chrome balled and birdbathed the english ivy that held the walls together hacked down by some psychopathic landscaper
I've come to this point, between home and abroad, where love is more potent, and yes is but a simple nod.    Laughing for nothing, is our favourite pasttime, while eating sweeet treats,
Wordsworth and Coleridge taught me some things On appreciating nature and to love what life brings. Wordsworth left his home to travel to beautiful places. He beheld the beauty and let it inspire all his poetry’s faces.
Wordsworth and Coleridge taught me some things On appreciating nature and to love what life brings. Wordsworth left his home to travel to beautiful places. He beheld the beauty and let it inspire all his poetry’s faces.
Leaving feels like choking on your favorite food. You think the end game will be worth it, but getting there is painful, and hard, and feels a little bit like you're dying.  Because you are. In part. 
Leaving feels like choking on your favorite food. You think the end game will be worth it, but getting there is painful, and hard, and feels a little bit like you're dying.  Because you are. In part. 
Twenty Two years on  and the child has flown the nest The 2nd heads off soon and the rest  they say is history, but history has a knack you see Of bringing you back to reality 
Little birdie, Fly away from home, It's not so scary, Out there on your own. It's a beautiful world that you ought to see, Don't be frightened, Because this nest will always be here,
The Sun rises and birds start to sing, as I look out my window,  little innocent me.  But little did I know, that my morning routine was about to be stopped.  It was time for me to leave, 
Missing   I’ve got it all planned out, you’ll see. I’ve hired someone to do the missing for me. I’ve become impatient and salty.
In two thousand and six, my parents hit me with a kick Leaving my home of green, rolling hills in Ireland Moving across the ocean to this barren land of cowboys and lost dreams  
My time in high school is about to end. Soon I will walk out these doors forever. I won’t lie, I have laughed and grinned. Memories I will not forget, never.
The roots have been planted To were the soil gives me strength And when my roots are in the sand It still gives me stability and hope That maybe I can stand on my own   But to be uprooted
The dream of a teen they say dont go far But with this run down car I know that I will go far far beyond this town and all the people stuck, wishing they had followed their own dream.
Subscribe to leaving home