Disorientation

Drifting, floating
Rudderless
Soaring, dipping
Gliding,
Catching thermals
No control,
Sinking, drowning,
Deeper and deeper
Lines blur,
What is real
No longer clear
Left doubting
All you hold dear
When did the world
Shift?
Elemental forces
Guide life
Seismic shudders
Realign frontiers
New appearing
None there before



Ok, it has had some re-drafting, but the poem above is almost in the form it first appeared.

House.

I wrote this last year, but it is a piece of freewriting. I have gotten out of the habit of writing recently, really need to get back into it.


House! That’s what Mum shouted that day way back…when she was at bingo…she came home with her winnings…all in 10 bob notes..And threw them into the air in our bedroom. The next day she took us to get shoes and coats. Just going out to get them, cos we needed them and not having to save up for them was a luxury to my parents back then. The house we were living in then was a brand new council house. We’d been moved from number 90 to number 17, as soon as it was finished. Back at number 90, even though it was a lovely bungalow, all three of us were ill one after the other; it was not good for Mum or us. So the doctor wrote a letter and sent it to the council, and as soon as the new council houses were built, we were re-housed in one.
But what is the difference between a house and a home? To me? I’ll tell you. A house is a place where people live, but they don’t necessarily belong there, you can tell this by where they say they are going. Are they going “back to the house”, or “going home”? The latter has a more comfortable feel to it.
After my divorce, we moved here, to Tuluz. Tiz my home, it’s not a house..It’s home. When I looked for somewhere to live, I looked at a few places, some were ok, but some were claustrophobic, but Tuluz was different. It was like coming home, walking in through the door. The whole house seemed to welcome me…there was nowhere to sit down, but it was asking me to sit down.
I am trying so hard to make Tuluz into a home, and now I am trying to get it ready for my love and his son.
Home is where the heart is…all the corny samplers says..But tiz true…you never yearn to go to your house…but people yearn to be home.
Silly footnote thought…hermit crabs? Do they sit around watching all the shellfish pondering on what look they would like next?