When I was younger, Mom always had a pot of rice ready in the rice cooker. It was a staple at our house, born from her Asian background. Whenever I was hungry, I could always count on a hot bowl of rice, put in a…

Home is becoming unstuck When we get to be awestruck Sweet-hope home is through the door Not a place, love we adore My journey began and ended with a tanaga. I wrote 28 poems, with a detour when I inadvertently cheated by posting a few…

what is home to the falcon the nest where it was raised or the vastness of the sky?   what is home the snail the fern in which it leaves behind trails of glimmering mucus or the comfort of the house grown out of its…

I might be insane, but the place I feel most at home is a world I made up over a couple decades of creative writing. Hmmm… (for hour 24—prompt: the place I feel most at home; here’s a poem from the history of Onweald)  …

The house is in need of paint, father, plaster peels off the walls. The verandah stares vacant and blank, no life within its halls. It’s just a house, I said to myself as I passed down that road, just a house, abandoned and dark that…

Writing poetry alone is a place I call home with springboard to bounce words on.   – Sandra Johnson, 6/27/21 (Reverse Haiku – yeah, I did it!)

Finally where I wanted to be, Miles away from the rest of the world, Always running, The race never really stops. But pause, it did, As if the earth was exhaling and letting go, Time come to a standstill, Much like the broken clock. As…

Les oiseaux étrangers    They say and who are they the wise who know so much about us? that where you live at eight years is always home. Maybe that is true for more than me: my home moored to an unfixed object floating through…

I rarely leave my home, these days, holding to familiar rooms and tending to my garden. I enjoy companionship of family as they go about their comings and goings. My home is a sanctuary, sheltering me from change.   I rarely leave my home, these…

When I am lost, and far from all The home I call my home will call I remember my first view Of the home I always knew Walls and maps don’t mark this space It’s the people, not the place When I am lost, and…