BY YOUNG AUTHORS GREENHOUSE
Home is a time to rest.
It smells and tastes like a break from school.
It sounds like freedom.
The bricks make me feel safe from negativity.
It feels like I have finally accomplished my goal:
To get through to the end.
Home exists because
my parents bought the house. I live in a neighborhood,
where every few houses, some of my friends live.
Some I don’t hang out with as much, while my neighbor,
I hang out with a ton.
Home is where I can
chat with my friends over FaceTime, where I can talk with my family
about the day.
I’ve never moved away from here,
so I keep my friendships.
What does home mean to you
Home is love. Being surrounded by loved ones. Love is everywhere Home is protection. Feeling safe. Home is family. Where you can feel loved. Home is everything in between. Full of love, kind and caring, safe with the ones you love, and happiness! This is what my home means to me.
Home is the seven continents formed to make one great nation.
Home, despite the wars, we still stand as one. Home is the wonderful people who fight for us. Home is the kind people who died…for us.
Home is our wonderful world. We fall apart, we ignite again. Home is….
Cooking Up Thoughts
I love the kitchen as it cooks up wondered thoughts,
the smells that strike me as the pots boil.
My head flames my pencil to paperwork
as the thoughts of my world drift me to another room.
The same rugged smells people hate.
I love the smooth tiles the same way it always is.
Home is strawberries, roosters crowing, cows mooing, pigs snorting and horses whinnying. Home is the rustle of leaves and the wind blowing giant gusts. Home is the dining room table and the excitement as the books come in for the next school semester. Home is the family homestead, the place of wonder, magic, and happiness. The place in which all my family members have walked and rode, whether it be in a carriage, an old-time buggy, or a car from today. A place where the scary outside world slips through my fingertips and gets blown away by the wind. The outstanding pressure of the world melts like ice cream from my heart, leaving me calm. Because I know when I am home, I am with the people who love me most. All the people who lived here before me have left their love here too. Home is where I am free.
Home is many things to me.
Home is a place. Home is a feeling. Home feels safe.
Home smells sweet.
Home is where I invite friends and family into our haven
and share good times and laugh. Everyone is welcome in my home. Home is where I can escape from the chaos of society,
a shield against the toxicity of the world and simply be me. Expressing my freedom and truly being free.
Home is where I can be myself.
What is your home like? Is it like mine? Am I welcome in your home?
Home is Love
Home is sweet,
home is love. I love home,
my home, sweet home. Home is heart,
home is love.
I heart my home,
home is where the heart is. Home is in Kentucky,
home is love.
I love my home,
my home in Kentucky.
At home, I am in my bed.
My bed is a lovely place.
I see all of the colors of my stuffed animals.
I can smell, well, air.
I can feel the stuffed animals in my hands.
The colors of my stuffed animals are blue, orange and white, green and black and white and brown, blue and light-brown and red and white and yellow.
The color of my bedspread is mostly blue with LOTS more colors that is too much for me to write.
I pretend that my stuffed animals are alive, and I like to do it a lot. It is also a place to sleep and take a nap.
It is also a place to cry everything out.
Home is a wonderous, magical place.
It is a center to cultivate memories and to remember. It is a generator of happiness and a shelter of the old.
Home has no boundaries or extensions. It can be anywhere, in the ocean, in the sky and even on the earth.
Home is a place where not even dreams can fully capture its true power.
It is more than a few walls and pillars, you see, so use it wisely, for not everyone has the chance to experience a gift like home.
Home is an unforgettable place and is truly magical, so don’t let it fade away as any other ordinary thing
because it is truer than anything you have ever seen.
Home is a family!
Your Shell Home
When we move
from house to house,
it sometimes feels as if we’re snails
constantly carrying our shell to very new places. The beige wet seashore, covered with
pointy shining shells, some of which
appeal to you.
But you know they’re far, far too big for your small, sluggish body. So
you carry your shell
home, somewhere else.
You bring your
beautiful luggage elsewhere, to the red-carpeted
and waiters dashing, dashing.
You know that surely you would never
ever be able to live here.
Well surely a forest would be good, right? Or maybe an
Amazon box would be better. Maybe both?
You travel to the Amazon Forest. The air is
fresh and warm
and there’s plenty of rain.