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Best Travel Poems

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See also: Best Famous Poems

Details | Travel Poem | |

Stardust Road

“Stardust Road”

"Soft defense driven through my thoughts,
I vanish away into yesterday’s scenic road,
Set the mood among the dark clouds,
Wish I could go back to the night, of fourteen and cold.
Tell myself not to look up and cover myself with the world.

Sorry I could not stay, 
One too many excuses & lies,
To where they never fixed themselves;
I could not handle the air,
I had to breathe right the cold nights that followed. 
I stood as one in love, under the starry sky…
Young and alone, I left the never-ending vindictive feeling.
The dust slept every reason inside my soul.
I travel the world, snoozing with the magic of the sand.
Stars that echo and drop twinkles to my walking toes.
The horizon was my blanket and shield…
Where the light and night I wore, 
Accelerating, escaping… no more justification! 
"Oceans of excuses sailed through my soul, 
Heartbroken, but in love with defiance toward the stardust novelty. 

With a sigh!
I hesitate not to look back,
Somewhere the ages turn to rust: 
Old and grey, all alone,

The leaves I stepped on then are trample and gone.
One day I shall return for the proper goodbye.
For now, I must travel down this lonely road silently.
Slowly my heart will heal itself, nurturing the frozen sleet away.
Releasing the 14-year old girl at last,
In body and in mind and soul, 
Confronting her with an, I BELONG HELLO!”

By;PD

Details | Travel Poem | |

Kiss of the Eagle

Many eons passed on Earth, who only saw your face
Untouched your virgin body, floating there in space
Waxing, waning, gibbous, crescent, quarter, full and new
Selene the Greeks would call you; Diana, Caesar knew

Who would brave the ether, who would cross the void
To agitate the tranquil sea you had so long enjoyed
To softly kiss your ravaged face and return to tell the tale
Of Luna's hidden secrets beneath her powdered veil?

Three heroes took the final quest aboard their fiery steed
In Apollo's silver chariot proceeding with godspeed
Three days and nights they voyaged to their opalescent goal
On Earth they watched and worried in the halls of ground control

One held the craft outside the reach of Luna's jealous grip
While Eagle's talons cradled two who risked the final trip
They timidly approached her through the shadowy abyss
Luna waited patiently and received the Eagle's kiss

Nations watched and cheered on Terra's distant shore
As one man finally took a step no one ever took before
In our hearts and in our minds his words will be enshrined
"That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind."

Details | Travel Poem | |

MALTA

Magnificent scenery Ancient Architecture Lovely lovely people Terrific cuisine All I wish is to return again one day Jan Allison 31st October 2014

Details | Travel Poem | |

Laughing Moon


Laughing Moon

Our seaward route defines the night's mistrust,
recites untruths, upon the waters' wakes,
the brines transmit inside the breeze my past,
with demons transferring my last mistakes.

They are my ocean pals! From dark sea depths
they jump and dance inducted like buffoons,
and holding violins or brass trumpets,
they gallivant around with looney tunes.

Meanwhile the stars, elusive, send their spark,
my pals embark on boats with wooden laughs,
discerning critics of our ghostly barque,
where waxen maids regale on moon's behalf.

Some lovely group! Night's theater folklore,
with drunk musicians and chords distuned,
who awkward smile with swollen lips to yore,
in front of a half-hidden laughing moon.

They sing for me! Hoarse sounds, guitars' slack strings,
brass horns, vociferous trombones and lyres;
my joker pals in airy jumps they sing,
transmitting brassy, foolish laughs and tears.

And dancing they absorb my stare and thought,
with anchor amulets that neck-chains hold
away they glide, like seaport prayers besought,
upon magnificent of seas to voyage bold.

Saluting me, a dancer higher jumps
('mid pandemonium tunes - on marble delf!)
and as the  laughing chorus plays paeans,
avaunt he sails resembling myself.

© 01-03-2012, G. Venetopoulos, All rights reserved
(Iambic Pentameter)


Details | Travel Poem | |

Each Day Takes its Turn

Standing firm 
we live 
we give 
we take 
we learn 
we strive to make sure 
each day enlightens us 
and brightens us
even as light fades to gray 
may we keep fighting 
with two swollen feet
beneath the body and soul 
experiencing trials 
and intense life lessons 
meshed with stresses 
may we persevere 
turn off  fear's song 
may we stand firm 
as we glide along 
through shifty winds of change 
that may cause things to sway
rearrange
but we hold true
inside the values and morality
we stand for 
we
fall for nothing 
we
may stumble along the trip 
we 
may swerve at the wheel yet 
we 
do not lose our grip
because no one 
can eclipse the sun 
yet
everyone heals 
before they're done

Just when situations arise 
flooding us with pain we despise
and just when it seems like
our tear ducts are dry 
from ongoing cries
we may think 
things are on the brink of ending
then God shows us the ways of faith
by way of love that he's sending

Standing firm 
we live 
we give 
we take 
we learn 
we make sure 
every day enlightens us 
and brightens us 
as each day takes its turn. 

~JSLambert



Details | Travel Poem | |

Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found


Details | Travel Poem | |

The First Kiss or That Darn Ann Landers

Son of a gun we were still young;
only 15 years gone by.
You were the first my kissing bubble to burst, 
and for you, I think so was I.
I wanted to start putting other parts 
of our bodies in the field of play;
But you stopped it instead as you paused and read 
what Ann Landers had written to say:

Keep your petting on the outside, keep your tongues inside your mouth,
Keep your hands north of the border, don’t let them travel south.
There’s no use in trying to rush things and ruin the rest of your life,
So just hold his hands and hug him until you’re man and wife.

You stuck to your creed in spite of my plea, 
and I didn’t want to press you;
So your hand I would hold and my tongue I would fold, 
even though I want to undress you.
Late at night my conscience I’d fight, 
still awake in my lonely bed;
Thinking of you and what I would do 
if these words weren’t still stuck in my head:

Keep your petting on the outside, keep your tongues inside your mouth,
Keep your hands north of the border, don’t let them travel south.
There’s no use in trying to rush things and ruin the rest of your life,
So just hold his hands and hug him until you’re man and wife.

I followed your rules, played it cool
for the first ten to twenty dates;
But by the end of the year to me it was clear 
we wouldn’t be tempting our fate.
So we parted our ways; ending our days 
to see other people instead;
As I set forth looking of course 
for a girl who hadn’t read:

Keep your petting on the outside, keep your tongues inside your mouth,
Keep your hands north of the border, don’t let them travel south.
There’s no use in trying to rush things and ruin the rest of your life,
So just hold his hands and hug him until you’re man and wife.

More than thirty years have disappeared; 
For me two wives and four kids.
And as for you, I hear it’s true, 
that getting married you never did.
I’ll never forget and never regret
That first kiss where we both did live;
And though I did slander poor ole Ms. Landers 
to my daughter this advice I now give.

Keep your petting on the outside, keep your tongues inside your mouth,
Keep your hands north of the border, don’t let them travel south.
There’s no use in trying to rush things and ruin the rest of your life,
So just hold his hands and hug him until you’re man and wife.

Details | Travel Poem | |

TRAIL OF TEARS

TRAIL OF TEARS

I've been there once,
I've been there twice
BLUE SKIES, never die!

A day of sorrow,
I can still feel the pain from yesterday,
The pain continues to sit there today,
It will continue to sit there tomorrow,
No word to say.
BLUE SKIES!
Nothing Less.

A trail of tears,
My life left

     
~SKAT~

Details | Travel Poem | |

Tea Leaves On The Bosphorus

Tea Leaves On The Bosphorus

Seated at a table by the stirring water,
My eyes absorb the shore of Asia.
Minerets and aged worn stone
Stand haphazardly along the banks.
Istanbul is a lady with secrets
She'll lure you with her unrevealed virgin beauty,
Then seduce you with her ancient lovers.

Grilled sardines filled my charger
Fish pulled from the strait just minutes before,
Lay garnished with parsley and mint .
Red pickled turnips and warm flat bread
Are the implements that help feed me 
And scoop up the humus,
Turkish nourishment for my soul.

The empty plates are cleared by a handsome waiter
With dubious intentions I feared,
But I was flattered none the less.
A bowl of yogurt was placed before me,
And my admirer arrived with a comb of honey.
He held it high above the creamy cloud and let the heavy ochre
languidly pour atop the milky whiteness of delight.
After his seduction,he left me alone to my pleasure
As I lapped at the sweet and sour heavenly temptation,
that parted my lips and elevated my being.

As I recovered from my rapture, two eyes caught mine.
The heathen that destroyed my diet approached the table uninvited.
He pulled up a chair and sat down across from me.
In his hands, a cup.
He offered to tell me my future.
White, small, as fragile as an eggshell with the top lopped off.
Within was a dark tea with floating leaves.
In a chivalrous attempt at English conversation,
He handed me the libation and the offer to read the remains.

I, alone in a man's world, unmarried, and of a certain age,
Did not need encouragement and I accepted his offer.
I drained the tea in one gulp and returned it to his hands.
He placed the cup in one palm , then turned it upside down,
Allowing the remaining fluid to drip out around the cup and onto the table.
Once the cup was upright again he studied the leaves, then he spoke.

His voice was soft, at times , unintelligible
His reading was honest, and truthful, and painful.
His prophecy, amusing, and entertaining
His vision and it's accuracy were astounding.

Fifteen years later, the leaves delivered on their promise.
Long fluid lines inside the cup foretold of a marriage,
To a man who  would cross a sea to find me.
Two shorter drippings were the children that now delight me.
The  tea ring that he was able to complete around the cup ,
Was the warmth of a love that would soon envelop me.


Tea, anyone?





Details | Travel Poem | |

The Heavens Are Open

Heavens are open to view in the late night sky.

Celestial bodies spinning in orbit, moving

Light years away, exploding out of our sight,

Some on the same primordial path our

World once took; inviting travelers who

Roam the infinite universe, because they can!

How shallow minded to think we are alone, 

To scoff at proof and stubbornly cling 

To antiquated concepts of the past.

Visitors walk among us, though we 

Are not aware of what we share. . .

They know the id is filled with fear and 

Programmed to annihilate that which 

We do not understand.

The times of enlightenment are at hand. . .

A special gift for those willing to let go of 

Their egos and open their minds and hearts 

To embrace the destined future.


Details | Travel Poem | |

The Wooden Flute Sings

From the mountain's peak; the wooden flutes sound
the lamas leap and the water falls-- clear,
mindful, the wind's play on the Quechua's ground. 

The majesty of the Andes astounds
for from behind the clouds, the peaks reappear.  
From the mountain's peak; the wooden flutes sound.

Like great red-clay dunes or snow capped mounds;
courts rise and fall in terrain, so austere; 
mindful, the winds play on the Quechua's ground. 

Rainbows of red, blue, and gold oft surround
distant ruins of gray stones, now severe 
from the mountain's peak; the wooden flutes sound.

Solid, earth-bound, sun-browned, lost to the hounds,
so, Quechua shepherds bound stairs cavalier--
mindful; the winds play on the Quechua's ground. 

Pachamama's love surrounds without bounds, 
long gone are the conquer's; all life is here,
from the mountain's peak, the wooden flutes sound--
mindful, the winds play on the Quechua's ground. 


* Quechua is one of the native people of Peru
**The Dominican Monks set hounds trained to kill 
on the natives who refused conversion.
*** Pachamama, fertility Godess in Incas Mythos

Details | Travel Poem | |

where braves amid the mists ignite


where braves amid the mists ignite

He knows the dance of lines at night,
 and their expanding, wayward trip
the perils and the clipons' grip.

Convergent margins that unite
 where once per life, lines sternly meet
to be horizons' incomplete.

Past scenes recite and years invite,
 abstruse the ranges, lift and share
with precognitions' blue affair.

His dream abides on beaming light,
  bike's thrust approaches distant knots
and his horizons' linking thoughts.

Where braves their destiny incite
 as lines embellish roads' decor,
and scenes return to years before.

Defiantly his words indite,
 what his third destiny perfects,
trajectories of skyward wrecks.

Where braves amid the mists ignite
 their speeding dreams of years eighteen
and turn to woods of evergreen.

He knows the dance of lines at night,
 convergent margins that unite,
past scenes recite and years invite.
 His dreams abide on beaming light
where braves their destiny incite,
 defiantly his words indite
where braves amid the mists ignite.

© 12-23-2013, G. Venetopoulos
(Iambic tetrameter)

"Third Destiny" = Please read the "About the poem" details.

Details | Travel Poem | |

Strawberries And Cream

Daybreak slipping through these champagne curtains

Red silk; twined aneath crimsons sheets; awakening....

This afterglows mornings dew; her wet moist kisses 

Soft sunrise and whom can deny such love; about her

Kittens den; purrr; feed me this need of your heavenly

Breed; cranberry breast amid sweet sublime; suckling

Her thirsting poetics child; a virgins verse as capturing

Venus aside strokes swirling atop sanguines canvas....

Splashed in maroons colours of a daybreak; pink silk 

Aneath sheets slipping through tomorrows champagne 

Curtains parting their purrring; brushing this her beauty 

Within a moist dews afterglow; intoxicatings sweet, wet

*********************************************

...."Red Rums Kiss * 'Strawberries And Cream'" ~



Details | Travel Poem | |

Old Pirate

I dream of the past and days on the high seas
With no one to answer to and no one to please
Yearning for the freedom that I once knew
With the sails set and a sea of blue
Dream of the islands and her beautiful eyes
For the taste of her lips my heart still cries
Once a pirate who sailed with the wind
Now only memories that I rescind
I look at the past in the afterglow
Wondering where does an old pirate go
Time has carved deeply the lines on my face
Settling down feels so out of place
Longing to return to that tropical lagoon
Where I once held her beneath a Caribbean moon
Young brash and arrogant, I sailed away
Never said good bye, I still see her each day
My heart beats a tune that has me undone
Until the day I sail toward that tropical sun
Thinking back and missing her so
Wondering where does an old pirate go.

Details | Travel Poem | |

Our Hearts Are Broken Too

(In memory of those lost in Newtown, CT) We may not know the answers to all the questions asked We cannot control how great the pain or how long it will last. Nothing we can do will erase the pain you bear But we cannot remain silent as if we didn’t care. The blood of precious children was shed this very day And grieving families wonder when this pain will go away. We know time will heal a multitude of wounds But we also can be very sure it won’t be very soon. Evil came to visit here and we all wonder why The souls of friends and children were made to say good-bye What happened here today we may not ever know And haunting thoughts of loved ones will follow where we go. You may be called to travel a higher road than we But you cannot travel faster than our prayers that follow thee. We know that we can never bear the grief that you go through Just remember we are here – Our hearts are broken too. Written by John Posey 12/16/12

Details | Travel Poem | |

ROUTE 66

We're ready to rip on a fun road trip
The top down we'll be cruising fast
Gonna get our kicks on Route 66
All geared up for a totally hip blast
We'll drive and sing, do groovy things
From the Windy City to nifty, cool L.A.
Over 2,400 miles of culture and styles
Oh, dying to play and sow some hay
Cities and towns and messing around
Tracks conceived with friends Tim and Eve
Hand on the stick this our Route 66 fix
California dreaming. ya gotta believe!

Date: 11-11-14

Details | Travel Poem | |

Promised Land

She told it this way.....

He said...San Francisco......
Then up to Mendocino
I said...can I go
He said...I guess you can

'Cause, long since Albuquerque
That's when he first hurt me
My heart's dying to divert me
To the promised land

And...oh, the nights are long
When you're playing tag along
And this old heartache..hanging on
Is getting out of hand

'Wish he would turn this car around
California...feels like shaky ground, 
Why is it always one more town
To the promised land

Silence speaks behind the wheel
A change of plans....to Bakersfield
Where Merle Haggard got the feel
Of the lonesome legend man

"Can't say I'm having fun
In this California sun
But,I'm praying for another run
To the promised land

And...oh, the days are cold
When empty's all you've got to hold
And chase love down another road
'So hard to understand

This oak just ain't gonna bend
Maybe, as the story ends
I'll catch another poet's pen
To the promised land



Protected by Copyright  All rights are my rights!











Details | Travel Poem | |

A TIME TRAVEL PANORAMA

At the moment
Of my restless teenage run
Your eyes emanated lights of million stars
Many times the size of our Sun.
Frenzy feeling for clinging to you, singularity.
But I was taken aback by sudden bars,
Though I could sense the gravity.
I should keep firing my rocket
Against all odds, unhoped for
Real fact was too much ferine to the prior.
I would eventually lose my goal:
That was my closest buddies'safest bet.
They described you as a black-hole,
They said, " she is not your girl."
They said, "For you, she is evil incarnate."
But, how could I ignore you,
Embodied in such amazing curve and curl?
So, before my eyes you appeared as an Event-horizon.
Yeah, it was you
My teenage beauty-paragon.
Beyond this nothing can escape
Not even light,
I kept travelling towards you,
The universe looked somewhere dim and somewhere bright.
But my clock slowed down
Now, I've to keep my feet on the ground
I feel like, a king without a crown.
To this nostalgic journey my consciousness's been bound.
For a black-hole
There's a whole universe to devour
But I'm absorbed in my amour.
       I did
  A time travel
A story of incompleteness to tell.
  But no need
I've reached a brand-new universe!
       I could never get
My first love, remains insatiate.
I've no regret, it cann't be a curse.
       I can bend
       Yet
       The story is not end.
I'll not bore anyone with my reminiscence.
But, I've gathered a vast time travel experience.
Here I feel no delight, no pain,
I'm ready to fall in another love once again.

Details | Travel Poem | |

Natural Instinct

         Three Sonnets tell a story, in sequence.
[From the narrative poem, "Don't Go to Wyoming Alone"]

         I. Natural Instinct  (Chivalric Sonnet)

He saves a wad of cash and designates
the stash to finance trek in far-off land
in hunting boots and custom gun he built 
for me with love and hope for trophy grand.

"Is this a trip I've dreamed about?" I ask.
"Can I enjoy the hunt, savor the kill?"
I contemplate the danger in that land -
will heat, dry thirst and bugs defeat my will?

Might this be atmosphere I cannot stand?
Excitement builds as I heft gun with ease
and find the answer soon on target range
as my bull's eye displays my expertise.

Though I have no inborn instinct to kill,
my reason tells me not to waste this skill.

               II. Lost Vacation  

Our trip is planned, we'll soon be on our way,
he's called and found the perfect spot to stay.
The husband leads you out to hunt the wild
as room is cleaned, clothes pressed, wife cooks gourmet.

Alas, things change, his current bent is new.
While Mom and I go west without a clue
he flies the skies to satisfy desire
from Air Force days where first the hunger grew.

But circumstance forced him to stay aground,
our funds were tight and kept him budget bound.
Since children now are wed and off the corn
he's free to choose to play or bum around.

When we return from trek out west by train,
he's spent vacation cash to buy a plane.




              III. New Dimension (Couplet Sonnet)

What fun we've had in years of golden age
as we, in freedom's row, our thirsts assuage.

We climb above the ground in utter glee
and view the earth below from Cherokee.

We join a pilot's group and meet new friends.
We travel now as time and space portends.

Each time we fly we bring two more because
two empty seats invite our friend's' applause.

But soon we build a smaller home down south.
I close my ears as words come out his mouth,

"The plane's for sale, I need a tractor now
to plow off snow and grade the road."  It's how

our trip to Africa, in quickened time,
became a tractor.  Surely, that's a crime.



Details | Travel Poem | |

First Date

We traveled so far in the bad icy weather
Just so we could have a few hours together
You held my hand and I kissed your cheek
An end to this evening we did not seek
Oh this time together was much more than great
Couldn't have asked for a better first date

Details | Travel Poem | |

Awakening

if you follow borealis,
you might hear children's laughter

innocence brings us closer,
our darkest corners can find light

the laws of man    have not changed

do not travel into the valley of the snakes
do not travel      into the valley
                                  of the snakes

your brothers before you
      .......saw the scorched earth

the laws of man    have not changed

love waits       until the bird with
the broken wing can fly

step away from the shadows,
your brother needs you now!

do not wait for the sun to rise,
cast your light upon My children!

it's never too late-

           to show the way!

if you follow borealis.
you might hear children's laughter

                    might    hear

                                   children's

                                            laughter

Details | Travel Poem | |

No Matter Where I Roam

I've travelled in my dreams to everyplace
to distant planets off in space
but each and every time I trace 
my happy journey home.

I've journeyed to the Golden Isles
where a cat named Mercer wrote with style
but nothing on my trip beguiled
like my happy journey home.

In Europe to the Ile-de-France,
to Ukraine where the Cossacks dance,
though wonderful, they had no chance
against my happy journey home.

And aqua seas with coconut trees,
pure pink beaches and warm night breeze,
but nothing anywhere would please
like my happy journey home.


Craig Cornish, August 16, 2014
For Nette Onclaud's Wanderlust Contest

Details | Travel Poem | |

Vase Dream - c'est la vie

       Vase Dream - c'est la vie 

White vase with no design
Dangling there - c'est la vie 
I think somewhere in Center City
Apart from everything
In an apartment rising skyward
Lingering on the edge of ledge
Standing tall atop a railing raw
Languishing over the 20th Floor
Or there about
And more - c'est la vie 
The balcony did its’ best of course
Displaying the fragile curves
Morning sun light danced approval
Around bouncing beams above the surface
But nothing could stop a soft breeze from… 
Poof!.....And off  it went… c'est la vie 
An alert French man
Pastry smile and all
Happened along
With left handed nimble fingers caressing a Beaujolais 42
The other hand stretched out with stress
As if to field an errant football pass
And in that chance encounter…Catch!...
Tumbling to concrete boundaries down
Bottle released in a wincing crash
Ground favored his mortal urgency
Pottery saved - c'est la vie 
Intact
French man’s head cracked
Let’s say opened 
Something like an egg
A natural death ensued - c'est la vie   
A passer-by seized the moment
Lifted vase and fled
Made off down and dirty
An ally
Another fate for vase awaits
Less encumbered
In a land far away
To dream of ledges - c'est la vie 
If so inclined   
Or so designed
 

Modified on 10/21/14 for - c'est la vie - Poetry Contest
 

Details | Travel Poem | |

WHITE DEVIL

White Devil

Call it what you want!
I call it, his favorite season hunt...
Two hoofs imprinted near the riverfront.
Echoes calling my soul with a loud, ferocious grunt.

I smell it in the air, lost upon the white golden stair.
A deep frost dwelling all over his lair.
Tangled by the frozen grip of my hair.
A decision, I declare to give what he won't spare.

This man has no red suit..
Lurking in the white to recruit.
A midnight suicide clouding me with pollute.
I pause my tongue on mute, lost in a white castle chute.

Headed straight into a shivering blazing star path.
The land of snow covered like a bubble bath.
Breaking icicles like crystal glass, suck3d by the milky-way mass.
Multiplying bruises like a cascade, enjoying the aftermath. 

Finding a way to slit the pain in my domain.
I grab a coat and lace my name to Mary-Jane.
Inserting the finest line to ease the drain in my brain.
I drink the icy scotch, and drop a silver nickel into the devils cocaine.

Fallen in to his bait, its too late, I got 7 lines on my dinner plate.
I'm covered up in snow, enjoying the amazing way to suffocate.
Eight beats to every minute is my new heart rate.
I'm reaching for the white golden gate, where the white devil waits.

Drowning like liquor in a frappe mixing the winter's high tide.
Death to my soul is where I hide under this white blanket neutral side.
Too heavy to uplift this storm lost in the devil's cold custard suicide guide.
Waking up in a coma, in a world where white collides with the rage of suicide.

by;p.d.   
 (( Trapped in a snowy blizzard))

Details | Travel Poem | |

Texas Wildflower Haiku : Widow's Tears

sun’s heat sunders sand
clustered lanced leaves green hug
widow’s tears collapse

Widow’s Tears is the common name for Commelina erecta var. angustifolia, they bloom on 
Texas beaches in sand or clay, and have the characteristic of flowering early in the morning 
and fading by noon. The bloom in all seasons but I chose spring to be more commonly 
approachable. [1]

[1] Wildflowers and Other Plants of Texas Beaches and Islands, Alfred Richardson