Rhyming Stories

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Poems your heart will cradle.

Robert R Sytnick
4.9 15 reviews
Age Rating:

Homeward Wind

My restless soul gives into the call of the Homeward Wind,

Thoughts of my youth and green acres, now win,

The countryside where I was born, and my next of kin.

My first kiss, my first love, and my tempted first sin,

Take me back, Take me back Homeward Wind.

I walk on the green acres of home, look back, and see,

The Homeward Wind calms my soul, and I give thanks, to ‘Thee’.

The distant apple tree bears new fruit and still stands alone,

The hidden robin nest is filled with young, that have not yet flown.

The green grass of the meadows are now home to nature’s deer,

As a doe can be seen in the midday sun, nursing her twins, without man's fear.

A garter snake slithers its way along last winter’s dried leaves,

The new clover blossoms give call, to the hum of the feeding bees,

The whisper of a whippoorwill as it sings in the distance, from the forest of pine trees.

The rusted plow stuck in its last furrow, now frozen in time.

The old tree house in the great oak that withstood time, and that, I still call mine.

The sounds of a rippling brook that continually flows like a rhyme.

The heart, I carved with my jack knife into a cottonwood tree, I must find.

Your initials and mine are forever locked, in love, like in time.

And the first kiss I gave you under our cottonwood tree,

Is sealed in my heart, and never to be set free.

The tattered old farm house stands, but has lost its will,

The great northerns have taken their toll, as the old house weakens and is still.

The blistering white paint and the broken glass that rests on the windowsill.

The picket fence around the garden where my bike once leaned, has fallen at will.

Subtle sounds of a loose shingle unbuckles my spine, and I feel a chill.

A look back to see a reflection from a broken mirror, in the bedroom where my mother lay, and first took ill.

The old house on the hill where I was born, begins to lose its will.

And the Homeward Wind is silenced and now lies still.

The green grass of home that has been calling me,

And the first kiss I gave you under the cottonwood tree,

Is embedded in my heart and only you hold the key

And carved in granite on my stone, this my memory.

As my ashes are carried by the Homeward Wind, always to be free.

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Further Recommendations

Emmelya Vandevoorde: I love this story ... heart warming and touching ...The end wasnt what i expected but life never is ...

Laraine Smith: My only suggestion for you would be to bookmark www.grammarcheck.net. This is a beautiful story with humor.

BlueRose_712: Captivating descriptions and heart felt emotions!! Your poems are deep and beautiful!! Cant wait to read more!!💓💓💓

Karrie Henschen: I love your pov. You definitely hwve a talent in prose.

cho chimi: The poems are very personal, I can easily find a piece of myself in every page.

Michelle Ogden: Please don't leave it like this for long update soon

Menna Hassan: So far..I'm very intrigued and excited to see how this book will progress!

jacqasiamcafee1: Such a beautiful story. Really helps to continually build your faith. With God all things are possible.

Sir Nilo: What a remarkable book. Wonderful poems. I can relate to some. Thank you for this amazing book.

More Recommendations

Laraine Smith: This should be a movie! :)

greatbooks: I admire your creativity. You have written a great piece. I want to promote your Inkitt book for free to my list of newsletter subscribers. If that is alright by you then please email me at exzordsdevs AT gmail.com to book your spot, thanks.

Laraine Smith: I was also a victim of verbal, physical, and sexual abuse by my father. One time, he threatened to beat me with a belt. This story enabled me to talk about it. Thank you. :)

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