It sits there, motionless, buried under unread mail in the drawer,
The once-sharp scissors my dad brought from his childhood home in Nepal,
Its blades now rusty, dull, and sore,
It sits there, motionless, waiting for a final call.
It waits through slammed doors, late-night apologies, and birthdays,
Eager for a chance to get picked up and put to work,
Just like it did in my dad's college days,
It waits patiently, preventing itself from bursting like a firework.
It holds its breath in the dark,
Yearning for a warm and loving hand,
Like the one that packed it and crossed the world to leave its mark,
It holds its breath, hopeful for a future in this new land.
For now, the drawer remains shut,
Where our family's Nepali history leaves its silver trace,
There lie resilient blades that time failed to cut,
Resting quietly in this loud, chaotic place.
Oconee steaming
sun lazing in lake
full moon hiding
zoom-zoom sun
way up over-brightening
windshield strobelight
~
S. Tyger River
awfully fishy -
air conditioning
~
Autumn sleeves
up to elbow wet
fistful of dimes
smile reflecting in fountain
determination stops mama
I took a trip on trains and buses thru memory lane.
Tried to find several things there I thought I left behind.
But upon my arrival, I only found I went there in vain.
AS I CONTINUE ON THIS TREACHEROUS ROAD, IT'S LIKE WALKING ALONE IN THE WOODS AT NIGHT WITH NO COMPASS AND NO LIGHT.
MOVING FORWARD ON THIS UNTRODDEN PATH, I CAN BARELY SEE, WITH THE MIST AND DARKNESS BLENDING TOGETHER.
THE FEAR OF THE UNKNOWN AND THE UNEXPECTED HOLDS ME CAPTIVE, KEEPING ME A PRISONER WITHIN MY OWN MIND. THE ONLY COMPANY I HAVE IS MY SHADOW, AND EVEN HE LEAVES ME AT DAWN.
WHERE DOES MY FINAL DESTINATION LIE? PAST THE HORIZON, THROUGH THE FIELDS AND VALLEYS, CROOKED ROADS AND DARK CAVES, OR IS IT PAST THE MOUNTAINS, ALONG A SMALL, NARROW PATH THAT LEADS TO A DEAD END?
MY DESTINATION IS YET TO BE KNOWN. THERE IS FAR TOO MUCH GROUND TO COVER AND NEVER ENOUGH TIME. TOO MUCH TO LEARN, TOO MUCH TO EXPLORE, TOO MUCH LIFE LEFT TO LIVE.
THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED IS ALWAYS THE ROUGHEST TO TAKE. AS A SOLITARY SOUL, I LOOK FORWARD TO FACING NEW CHALLENGES, CULTIVATING LOVE WHERE PAIN RESIDES, AND OFFERING FORGIVENESS WHERE SCARS AND WOUNDS ARE STILL HEALING.
Thrilled to travel to a coastal region in India, I was only six…
with my mother and a little sister, lived in relative's palatial bungalow,
admired lace curtains with hand-embroidered pictures of deer and peacocks,
plush carpeted floors, elegant furniture with glass-top tables…
what took my breath away was the evening stroll, a few minutes walk
to the beach, frolic with sapphire waves lapping on the shore!
couldn't race back fast enough as we, giggling, chased the waves, slipped,
got fully drenched, bodies covered with sand, still rapturously amused!
sublime chimes from a temple announcing evening-prayer mesmerized senses,
taste-buds were satisfied with plain but mouth-watering treats -
luscious fruits, crunchy nuts, pieces of sweets, savoury bites,
I still hear the splashing waves, when holding the conch I collected, to my ear,
remember the ethereal colour of the vermilion sunset on the horizon,
lonely fishing boats sailing far away in the sea as if with no destination,
emerald water and amber sky touching each other in an embrace.
On the road key lime, full moon kindling;
Green light deep dark wood graphite;
Before the rain red rock desert prickly pear;
Full moon kindling On the road keylime
8/20/26
End of life satisfying.
Greater, lesser enrayed
Of aged light. Lorn-blown day's, dock's.
Sucks in a lone-swept man.
Through its profound, voiceless hush.
A true spirit-calming.
If but out whose throats hollowed
Deepest, for pelican!
swan bay, queenscliff. (circa 2002)
Welcome Aboard
America’s Vintage
Bus of all times in years
Through winding bends and open roads
Endless miles
Distance through the horizon
Rest Stops along the way
Journey a getaway
Acquaintance with America’s People
Friendly open hands at the door
Hound bus wheels accelerate
Cities after Cities
Towns after Towns
Boarding and Departing
Daylight skies
Nighttime sleep
A Hound Dog always knows the way
One Step Ahead
Recline and relax
Unleashed feel from perplexed
Greyhoundder
Through time and back
On Schedule at that
America’s wonder and wise
Greyhoundder front and Center being no surprise.
Riding Water Rapids
New York State Adirondack Mountains
Beauty and Charm
Lakes, Rivers and Waterfalls
Observing Water Rapids Saulteaux
The thought of challenging Fear
Conquering the Water Rapids in preserver
Courage through assurance
Faith enriching endurance
Canoe and venture
Close to nature
As I pulled the canoe from the pier
Determined to fulfill
My mind on God’s will
I had to do this
Hit or miss
The canoe drifted into smooth then rough waters
It was hitting against rocks below
I had worry within
That was my scare then
Adventurous on every sense of the word
Determination with a promise
No defeat until Victory
Achieved and Accomplished
Rode the Water Rapids
Confident and Brave
Success being a story
A behold
Rapidity
It is not where you have been,
or the color of your skin,
that determines your real worth.
God loved you before your birth!
So…be still, listen and know:
what life will to you, now show,
and wherever hence will trod,
He is with you…Go with God.
- by Darrell Simmerman © 2025
A stamp retreating to a corner
Travels round the world
Without boundary
No political
Colourless
Timeless
With wavy emotion of the lovers
With startling surprise of the children
With overwhelmed joy of the parents
And now with the humbleness of me
Who is one of his owner
The blue waves smack the shore
Outlined by the oaken door.
Stand beside the cypress tree
Throw your arms out to the sea
On a mossy cliffside you can spy
The wheeling curlew, hear it cry.
Smell the cedar in the grove
See grass wave where rover's rove.
Hear the sea gull, feel the wild
White sails on silver, be beguiled.
So far from madness of the city
Cell phone rings, no longer free.
You run inside the cottage door
Find your backpack on the floor
Dig the phone out, as it plays
A ringtone singing "yesterday"
Its Chase bank, with a suspect charge
Ten thousand, that's awful large.
Text message comes from your landlord
Rats with fleas came in a horde
Your boss says he's needs you back soon
Work has come like a monsoon.
You leave the cottage bitterly
But you can't eat the scenery:
Can't throw the cell phone in the sea.
At least you have the memory...
I remember when we took that trip to Florida
It was late summer and Labor Day weekend
It was our first anniversary celebration trip
We stayed in the honeymoon penthouse suite
Our days were full of exploring antique stores
And the fun popular tourist sites we found
Our nights were full of passion and romance
A trip full of hope and dreams for our future
We found some garage sales along the way
And some rare 1800’s antique carriage lanterns
They had beveled glass, gold and brass accents
We decided to buy the pair to display at home
Years passed and many anniversaries too
Our lanterns have weathered many storms
They are strong resilient and still work today
A great symbol of our love and commitment
They say the train appears
only when the night is deciding
whether to keep its secrets.
It rises through the clouds,
steam curling like old prophecies
that forgot their endings.
The moon watches closely,
amber and patient,
as if it has seen this journey
a thousand times
and still refuses to explain it.
No passengers ride inside.
Only choices~
the ones people almost made,
the ones they feared,
the ones they lost in the noise
of daylight.
The conductor is a quiet figure,
hooded, ageless,
guiding the engine along a track
stitched from cloud-light.
He never speaks,
but every so often
he leans out the window
and drops a single spark
toward the sleeping world below.
If it lands near you,
you wake with a thought
you didn’t have yesterday~
a direction you hadn’t considered,
a door you didn’t know
you were allowed to open.
By dawn, the train dissolves
into the pale sky,
its myth intact,
its work unfinished.
And somewhere,
someone rises from bed
with a new certainty
they swear arrived
from nowhere.
I journey through love
on the most beautiful voyage—
into the boundless blue,
into the wildest wave,
into the whitest foam.
My body, the sturdiest hull;
my soul, the tallest mast;
my thought—this
most beautiful voyage—
a wave to batter the hull,
and as a reward,
the mast touching the sky.
Travel Categories
Definition | What is Travel in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
adventure, biking, cruise, cruising, driving, excursion, expedition, flying, globe trotting, roam, sailing, seafaring, sightsee, sightseeing, tour, touring, traveling, trek, trekking, trip, vacation, voyage, voyaging, wander, wandering, wanderlust,