Ode Journey Poems | Ode Poems About Journey

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Details | Rhyme |

Ode To A Former Wild Life

Ode To A Former Wild Life


Drank too hard, rode my horses too fast
didn't give a damn if my body did not last
Midnight was a bell for me to pour it on
get wasted until my head felt like a stone

Pretty gals, O' how they spun my wheels
woo'ed them as I pleased, made no deals
Passionate nights spent dancing in the bed
plenty of time for sleep after I am dead

Life was just a big box to rip'er open
bigger thrills , prettier gals I was hoping
Once a spirited mustang, wild as all hell
wildest things I did I dare not to tell

Memories good or bad often can not decide
yet one thing is sure, had one helluva' ride
Memories good or bad , often know not which
yet having none at all would be a real bitch!

Robert J. Lindley , 04-18- 2015

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015



Details | Ode |

An Ode To My Beloved

I just wanted to let you know
That I have this love for you...
Although I'm not fast to show
For you, there's nothing I wouldn't do
And I can't control this love
No matter what I try to do...

While I know our lives are separating
Which has got me pretty blue
I just want you to know
How much I love you...

Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved 

Oh how I still see you every night in my mind
You're the best girl I feel I'll ever find
And when my eyes would fall upon your smile
My heart would be put on trial
And so if nothing else, I want to let you know
That I'll always love you, that my hearts beat
For you, won't ever slow...

Because I was blinded by shyness
And now my heart's feeling rugged
So this here's An Ode To My Beloved 

So I wish you happiness beyond compare
And sorry for the times I couldn't help but stare
Caring, passionate, smart, and loving
From my heart, to you, I'll never be shoving

You will always be in my heart
No matter where we go, how far we drift apart...

Goodbye My Love...

Copyright © Andrew Shannon | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |

Sand Storm

We will finish this Task 
Come what may
Wasting away the beauty of our day
A dark cloud of contempt
Winds of lies in the air
Lightening beating our souls bare
Where is the Sorrow
Is Their any Empathy at all
To Author this Storm
Is beyond comprehension
 An....Yes.....
Dust can only Fall........





Copyright © Ninette Carey | Year Posted 2014



Details | Ode |

Dreamer

Call me the dreamer of dreams. 
I am the one that reaches for the highest of heights.
I use the clouds as a helpful step to rest my feet as I reach. 
Stretching my arms up high, trying to grasp a hold of the stars. 

Call me the dreamer of dreams.
I am the one that struggles through the thistles and thorns. 
Reaching forward, eyes tearing up as I bleed for the light that will soon be mine.
I use the light's rays as motivational beams, urging me forward. 

Call me the dreamer of dreams. 
I am the one who fights through the ridicule and puns. 
I fly through the maze of the bombardment of insults and put downs, straight to my prize. 
I use the tormenting words as encouragement to later prove them wrong. 

Call me the dreamer of dreams.
I am the one that searches for truth. 
I wander through a world of lies and tricksters as they try to make me lose focus.
Discovering traps and evading paths of lies by evaluating them with logic and reason.
With every lie evaded, I inch closer to the truth. 

Call me the dreamer of dreams.
I am that one, the one who dreams.
For without dreams I am nothing, but a human with no purpose. 
And when my dreams are reached, the scars I will wear proudly.
For the struggles I had faced will stand as validation to how much my dreams are worth.

Copyright © Joshua Torres | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |

Ode To A Trojan Horse

Learnt by the pang of fear
Oh Trojan horse thou art fair
So fearful and hard to near
Your presence!A dread  even to air
Leading to an ancient unknown fence
Creating anguish in the ambience
Like a mad dog thou locate
Your way to doom or heaven's gate
Vigour in you aint got an end
For strong art thou till the end
Of world and world beyond thy tend

Copyright © Wright Bankole | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |

The Journey of a New Dawn

God never fails
He’s the best ever 
Every day is a new day
Miracles surround me 
I have crossed many hurdles
And my paths are laid straight
I walk, I stride, and I jump
in all, all is born
I thank Him for the oil on my head
For the legacy He’s leaving by my tail
Every day I thank HIM
I will always praise HIM
In Him I dwell and have my Being.

Greg Jones

Copyright © Greg Jones | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |

Oldd the Days

Old are they; those fables
Green they seemed so idle,
murrain of theirs still but
stand.

Odd how all of us prattle
Lads indeed we still are
longing hearty; throstles  
songs sang_we all are.

Old; we wot these birds
their silent screams,
their feathers whim;
Nwunwani ya malena
oh swain to boyish manner.

Odd these tricks;futile
that laugh; humor felt
fainly graft; lusty marks
brat indistinct;two of these.

Old indeed friends many, 
lunatics, lovers, poets;
to me:days where fine
the faces, the smiles;
the best_my closest: my mother.

Odd_history of man's fall
from glory; temporal but
lowly, to the swam of folks 
indulged in folksy fables
and wind drought eagles.

Old the age of time,
if he were to count her down
feast_lamps shone_indwelling clans;
of rocks as bread and
lands as fields of gold.

Odd these slippers_my
lullaby, the gentle embrace
of firm support and fashionable
hey, hello; nice shoes,
intrigue in loops.

Old my looney_little mate
from lands only of  myth,
imagined places: those
created films_my pixel pinky.

Odd my interest in single
females,of simple yarn and
lowly glory that's too fragile for;
lollipops_kisses and pecks like
v award winds.

Old these melodies of Bome_yes
bome; these loving tides of
beautiful countenance rose
as roses at noonday;as
waves at water pools.

Odd these Irish boys of Ireland_
Scottish accents in American films
faked acts of Hitler in short pants,
Black dark doves; the purity of beauty
Africa.

Old yes odd these remarkable words:
these watery lines_the days.

Copyright © Lavensin Emmanuel Winaro | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

An Ode to Lost Love


1.

I should have listened.

Alas, I was lost in the crowd.

You may not have said that you loved me,

there was never a reason for it to be said aloud.

2.

I should have known better.

I kept pushing you away.

Your patience was tested,

till we each went,
on our own separate way.

3.

Now the years have vanished.

I am grey and older.

I may not miss you all that much,

yet each day seems colder.

4.

Time has not eased anything.

Yet I have no reasons for regret.

Days come and go as always,

but somehow I am unable to forget.

5.

So forgive me if you can.

Not an easy task given my past.

Though I may be unable to absolve myself,

the void I feel is permanent,

my loss shall forever last.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode |

Mga Katanungan

Mamakailang- ulit nang nangyari 'to?
'di maka- idlip man lang mga mata
Ilang ulit na bang nalihis sa mundo?
Hating-gabi, ikaw'y saksi!Sumagot ka!

Siguro mga sampong beses na yata?
Makisimpatya ka't ngumiti man lang!
Hindi ba? Kung 'di, tayo't ikaw'y magwika!
Hating- gabi, ngayo'y mangusap ka naman!

Ako'y iniwan ng taguri'y pamilya.
Imbi't ipit sa pugad ng umuusig,
Dito sa bangin ng siguro'y sakuna,
Tanong ko'y, 'Muli pang iniwan, o, bakit?'.

Kung babalik- tanawin ko ang nagdaan
Ay hindi ba't mandalas pa sa parati?
Sa gali't alimuom man dinamayan
Kayo! Ngayo'y 'niwang sa takot lugami?

Ganito ba ang aking dapat sapitin
Sa libong kabaitang aking napunla?
Ito ba'ng igaganti ninyo sa akin
Sa tulong kong sa inyo'y sukat nagawa?

O, hating- gabi, hiling ko'y sumagot ka!
Magkusa kang tugunan 'king mga tanong
O kaya'y hugutin yaring mga paa
Sa lusak- takot na niri'y nagbabaon!

Ikaw nalang ngayon ang ako'y mayroon;
Liban sa nasa kamatayan nang buhay.
Wala na mga naturingang katotong
Tunay. Sila'ng mitya na ako'y mama'mtay!

Copyright © MILBERT SALMASAN | Year Posted 2015

Details | Haiku |

MY ode to the Netherlands - Goeie moarn Fresia

radiant sun shines
laurel of meadow sage glows
fragrant flowers rise
across swooning bay
voice settled in the woodland
good morning Fresia
a lullaby flew
In the Morra nightingales
dancing in the trees
1/13/2014

Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ode |

Ode to the Journey

IT MATTERS NOT
WHAT TIME HAS WROUGHT
FOR IN DUSK 
LIES A THOUGHT
FOR THOSE IN ALLIANCE
WITH THE SHADOWS
SEARCHING WITHIN 
THEIR CAVERNOUS HEARTS
SEEKING FOR THE PRINCIPLE
SO THAT THEIR EXISTENCE
MIGHT START
KNOWING NOT A SOLITARY WORD
THEY SPEAK FROM SOMEWHERE NEW
KNOWING NOT A SOLITARY ACTION
THEY MUST RELENTLESSLY PURSUE
BUT ALAS WHO MAY COMPREHEND
THE SPRIGHTLINESS IN WHICH THEY
ORIGINATE
BUT THOSE IN ALLIANCE
WITH THE SHADOWS
WHO DESIRE TO EXECUTE
THE LONELY ACT OF
VITAL ESCAPE

Copyright © cassandra towle | Year Posted 2012

Details | Ode |

the hour is getting late

I feel tired,
slipping into the arms of Morpheus,
I fall
and break my neck,
tumbling down
a drain pipe as long as anything,

Alice said the hour was getting late,
I concur, 
but my mouth won't make a sound,
so frustrated, I slam my hand on the table
and start waving my arms about,
trying to express what,
I don't know, it's long gone
and more to the point,
long irrelevant,
for Alice was right,
the hour was getting late,

and as I stumble
into the cab,
clinging for dear life,
to the last shred of conciousness,
I turn to the driver and pull a smile,

giving no specific direction,
but indicating with my hand "that way"
and handing over a crumpled five pound note,

next thing I know, 
I'm outside my flat,
stumbling and trying my hardest, 
to keep the contents of my stomach, 
from spilling on the curb,

passers by stare bemused, 
at the comic sight of someone so far gone
and I am struggling just to stay upright,
finally I hit the door
and once in, crawl up the vast mountain of stairs,
until I finally reach the refuge of my room,
where at once I fall,

I fall into the arms of Morpheus
and slipping I break my neck,
tumbling down 
a drain pipe as long as anything,
and Alice turns to me and says,
the hour is getting late.

Copyright © Oliver Gould | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ode |

Away From Home, But on My Way Home

I am on a journey
I have been for quite awhile
I know not how much further I must go

But I know the destination;
it is to be enriched by every life I meet on the way
and to enrich every life that grace mine on the way

So I must stop, 
to smell every rose,
to cheer every heart

Though the way may be fraught
with fog and tempest,
I have no fear and I am not lost
I still remember the way home
and I am fond of home
It is a place of eternal life
It is a house of endless love,
a house of peace, 
a house of joy 

In my home, 
there's always laughter,
hearts never break, 
smiles never fade, 
spirit and flesh never frail
fear is never around, 
friends never leave,
loved ones never die, 
no sad farewells there

I will go home, 
when my journey comes to its end
To my father’s house will I go
To the house of endless love, peace, and joy,
will I return

Into the waiting loving arms of my father; 
into the warm happy embrace of friends and loved ones,
who had been on the journey and gone home before me, 
eagerly awaiting my return

To my home, to my father’s house,
of endless love, peace, and joy, 
will I return

The day of my return, I know not,
but when it comes, I will know,
for my father will call me home,
When he calls, I will hear 
I will answer his call
I will run to my father
I will be home

(Dedicated to Merl Butler)

Copyright © oliver Okoli | Year Posted 2006

Details | Rhyme |

MY ODD POETIC ODE

I learn to deal with charm that spills,
Aware of rate that sparks new psalm,
Sift form and feel to forge and fill.

I sit and wait for muse to come,
Listen for hint and feel to spur
Voice at the gate to spill and sum.

I watch light tint as tact minds blur,
Sense soft heart speak in pulse and grain,
Words start to mint new thought form slur.

I steal a peek that stays on pain,
Shift strands of lines to weave brisk rhymes,
Feel knows a peak to prime bold gain.

I choose a vine to spark my time,
Poise spreads a tact that signs a style,
Stretch line for line to form brisk chimes.

I word a fact to cast a smile,
Push and then pull to wear a gaze,
Woo a fond act to groom verse miles.

I play the fool in this mind maze,
Learn to fund blooms that spread sweet scent,
Seek feel that pools sound urge or craze.

I now make room for clear ascent,
Pen writes that zoom to firm intent.


Leon Enriquez
11 Mar 2014
Singapore

(Note: This is a 8-syllable rhyme pattern in
Terza Rima with an internal rhyming scheme.)

Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain |

Ode to a Missing Beer

Oh this is an ode to my friend’s missing beer,
Gone missing in fact because he isn’t here,
The pizza’s consumed and I’ve sated my thirst,
For pizza and beer are quite often rehearsed.
I’m writing this poem and singing its praise,
So he will be sorry the rest of his days.

The pizza was tangy (beer cold as he feared),
The longer he tarried the more disappeared,
When friends cannot make it remember this test,
Though company’s fun, a full stomach is best.
Can’t say that I’ve given much thought to his plight,
The one thing for sure is I’ll sleep good tonight.


Brian Johnston
February 7, 2017

Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ode |

Girl in the Vermillion Dress Part 1

She says, "You have to look down when your in a dress," 
her friend just stares at her cast in a cape of pondering.

her dress is beautiful, flows vermillion onto the flooring
of the dressing room. 
I ask myself, that dress.. while breathtaking.. You must have to have a lot of confidence to wear it,

since it is striking to the naive eyes, 
it's red color pools into spirals of soft thread 

the red of the inside of a papaya, 
and the girls self esteem the size of the seeds of a papaya.

Her dress, it seemed as though an Artist who soaked in the sunset too long, whose skin when cut bled a sweet tender red-orange, painted it,

Why look down in such a dress?
you have to wear confidence 
to complement such a beauty of a dress.

 Her, her with the romantic braids of brown
swaying upon the bend of the nape of her neck,

her with the brown eyes of a thoughtless doe,
yet still warm sparks of chocolate burning into any person's memories,

Red-orange, the color of flames 
but her body did no such thing, because if she had flames bursting 
from the seams of that dress

she couldn't be seen
because she was covered by a forest of soft brown,
of chocolate. 
But see wearing that red-orange dress would just make her locks of smooth brown braids melt..

Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ode |

Girl in the Vermillion Dress Part 2

she couldn't melt.
When I think of her, I think of Autumn..

her hair the toned branches of birch tree's,
complexion the inside of an apple once bitten
it's inside a rich honey core.

You must have confidence, pluck 
to walk in that dress.
Why look down in a dress that fine, 
magnificent even 

how can the ground, the dirts shallow comments 
enhance the beauty of that dress, of the girl wearing it?

a dress is a woman's right, 
it's a synopsis of a feminine heart

flows with grace,
everlasting warmth pouring from the fit, the figure of her body

Her body bountiful and 
persona supple, enough for herself.

Her body, her home too filled with unconditional self
love, that others ego's can not fit, can not take up space.

So girl in the store, young woman to be
pick your head up,
let it not hang like bruised fruit from a fallen branch..

I see behind the nativity, I see eyes, and a mind
with a garden of thoughts, and hopes..

I see that you don't carry yourself well,
you hold your shoulders as slides

so others words, other people's judgement 
slip into your heart,
into those nooks of sensitivity.

I notice your eyes sodden when someone looks,
and you bury your head between your knees looking for comfort 
because you feel as though the world is no supporter,
no shoulder you can lean on.

So dear girl in that vermillion dress,
own what you have.
let that dress be a lesson, let it blend, let it knit into 
your self esteem to portray it's warm, comforting strength.

Because you are strong young girl,
and you mustn't hide child, 
and like I said, the dress you wear is a totem for you
and it will give you the guidance
to believe you are beautiful.

And you are, why else would a poet 
spend her time describing your beautiful soul?

Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2017