What Does Home Mean to You?
By Becky Smith
My home is safe,
I like it on my own,
It is fun. I like staying in.
I love my bedroom so much.
I listen to my C.D.s
I love my family and my friends around me
I live in my flat on my own
I love my mobile phone
Facebooking and texting my best friends.
Around my flat I love my kitchen
I love cooking and cleaning.
I am a caring lovely helpful friend
to my best friends.
Be there for me always.
I love my brothers and sister,
mum and dad.
I love my boyfriend
and to cuddle my teddy in bed
and have a lie in until twelve.
The Key to Happiness
By John Wilkins
House-proud, home ward bound,
These are the chains that bind us.
Cooking the books for smiling hooks,
Curtain looks with the Joneses.
Unlocking the door, I feel homeless.
I Love My Home
By Ruth Turner
My home is where I like to be
Especially with my family
I love my home and all things in it
My special place where I sit and knit
Some people like to wander
Some people like to roam
But always for me there is no place
How I Feel at Home
By Sean Nightingale
I feel chilled out
I feel emotional
I feel relaxed at home on the sofa.
Very comfy, it is.
Makes me want to sleep.
Good to Bee Back Home
By Julia Dean-Richards
I don’t know about you, dear,
but I think I’ll buzz off home,
Sweet sticking pollen on me feet,
but winter’s almost come.
Well good for you, my bee friend
fly straight, don’t wait, be true,
they’ve put your Queen to bed now
and winter’s sticky too.
There’s mite and moth to deal with
and nights are closing in,
and Mouse is seeking shelter
but there’s no room at the inn.
So I doubt that I’ll be joining
your busy buzzing hive,
where the workers all go dancing
on their way to fetch supplies.
But I’ll think of you this winter
as you huddle round your Queen
and she tells you pretty stories
of the blossoms that she’s seen.
And when the spring arises
and the buddleia comes out,
I’ll tap upon your super
and see if you’re about.
By Nathan Campbell
Hope. What is hope?
Can someone tell me, what is hope?
I have been living with fear,
and hoped all my life and know
I have to move on from fear and corruption.
But do I call this home?
Or is this the time to walk away from my home?
I need some kind of hope
to carry on and move on.
Do I return the key back to the home owner
and walk and jog on?
And make a move on?
Home is in my head, and that is in Zimbabwe.
And I know my way,
but that goes to my head any day.
By Julie Drakeley
Familiar, a place of safety, comfort and love.
Or is it the wild shore, whimbrel calls and solitude?
Perhaps they are one.
By Brian May
When the clouded spider legs it home
There is no error. It is safe, a familiar
Dust, a proprietary crevice. Knowing
It is there, she can emerge.
The darting martin and the swift have
Urgent schedules, taking them away
And back again and again to their
sheltered children’s utter persistence.
This very afternoon, I moved a stone
Unnecessarily to uproot a stubborn
Weed. There, poised, sat my glistening tenant
Set up at house a stride or two from water
Exposed, did not leap, but said, not startled,
“I am in good health. Please replace my roof.
This is my home, though you may not approve.
It is my body’s refuge and my mind’s peace.
Good day to you”.
And good day to you, friend frog, forgive me.
Home at Hem House
By Georgie Dawson
I feel safe at home, it makes me feel cheerful.
I have family around me, and my friends as well.
I love my teddy,
I feel secure in my own home.
I have my own space,
I love my bed.
I belong at home.
What Home Means to Me
By Michael McCarthy
At home with Mum and Dad
is where I am able to live,
Day by Day.
Where I have been since day one of my life,
I feel safe with my mum and dad
and having my sister
to be nearby.
Watching telly to relax –
Eastenders, Holby City and all the soaps,
and listening to the Archers too.
In my bedroom
on my own,
I can do a bit of everything I want.
at the end of the day,
Mum and Dad help me to bed
where I nod off.
Another day been and gone.