Best Travel Along Poems
There’s an old river course with beginning and end,
now the river runs straight without this river bend,
where the water is still and the reeds do grow strong.
New life has taken over in a billabong.
The mat rush is spreading replacing the sedge,
and old fallen gum trees lean in from the edge
creating a haven in the shelter below
for smelt or gudgeon, and the common minnow.
There’s a ring on the water, so danger is nigh,
and life is now over for one caddis fly.
Dragonflies hover on their predator flight,
so mosquito and midges best keep out of sight.
There is many a song around a billabong
to break up the still with an assembly throng
from birds of the forest, and wading birds too,
so the billabong offer is there to pursue...
... for blue heron and egret, coot and the teal,
and for the banded rail that the bulrush conceal.
In the billabong shadowed by gum and ti-tree,
bellbirds are tinkling; wattlebirds disagree.
An oft-diving grebe keeps on searching for food
for the striped downy chicks of its latest brood,
and a hunting kingfisher waits keen for its prey
from a twig of a gum tree it frequents all day.
There is many a scent around a billabong,
filling the air with the perfume quite strong,
from black wattle and mint bush, or mistletoe
cascading from gum trees where only they grow.
Painted lady butterfly flit upon flowers,
and blue banded bees keep on working for hours
on lilies and orchids, heath, sweet appleberry
and clusters of flowers on a native cherry.
Ribbon weed, nardoo spread out in the shallow,
with buttercup, duckweed; an introduced mallow,
struggling for survival near the water line,
aiding coral pea that does lightly entwine.
The banks of a billabong are dangerous too
with predator snakes not so often in view,
but they are aware, that the growling grass frog
will climb from the water onto an old log.
But tigers and copperhead, red-bellied black
often lay in the sun on an overgrown track,
where the wombat or wallaby travel along
to graze on native grasses near the billabong.
So life still carries on around the billabong
where water looks stagnant, a bond is still strong
with a river now rushing it’s way to the sea,
past the billabong living, where the course used to be.
POTD 23 Mar 2024
THE PATH WELL TRAVELLED.
Two paths diverged, and I was thrown by doubts I had never known
To my left, thickly overgrown, was a path to dismal dimness prone.
To my right, a lovely sight-fragrant flora flamed in light
Forms so graceful, beauty rare, a wonderous vision beyond compare.
Both seduced with equal right, torn was I between dark and light.
Resisting limits of time and sight, a liminal border of cosmic might.
Hesitancy rapt with fear and doubt, the pondering heart beat aloud.
Tempting was the path so grand, but instinct cautioned of a treacherous hand.
A feathery touch, a breeze stirred, and in its sigh, a voice I heard.
Was it Hecate who whispered?
"Take heed. Beware, for each path leads to a different lair."
Crystal clarity knew what I must do, and with a heart filled with valour true,
Joyously, I strode wild and free down the well-trodden path ahead of me.
The leaves, like frisking lovers, played as I embarked my chosen way.
Future paths ~ So many dreams ~ Each a thread in life's grand scheme.
Though true discovery lay in paths, I'd roam ~
The one well travelled always led back Home.
By Maria Williams ©
Greeks worshipped Hecate as a guardian and gatekeeper who could ward off evil forces. She is often represented carrying a torch and a key and standing on the liminal border between one place and another. She bears three heads and always has a dog by her side.
Inspired by Robert Frost's 'The Road Not Taken', I chose to write an alternative version.
'The Road Not Taken' is one of Robert Frost's most famous poems. It's natural and understandable that many readers take the poem to be Frost's statement of individualism as a poet: he will take 'the road less travelled'.
The metaphor of the road is one that immediately evokes a journey, not just of the local or day-to-day kind, but of the life-defining sort: life as a journey, with many roads which we must travel along, and with many alternative paths which we must choose between.
POTD 23 March 2024
Water / Water
New Hamburg, Ontario Rubkuai village, South Sudan
locals rise locals starve
with the river, heed warnings where once there was a river,
to keep from its banks travel along arid banks
thirty thousand gallons a tanker arrives with a few gallons
of unwanted rain rain is worth all limbs
burdens how burdened the village —
storm drains the drought drains life from fields
this summer, filled sport bottles this summer
will be abandoned near will crust tongues
splash pads, as the dying
where saturated children riot tend to the dead
in mist & spray, soak in inconsolable mothers silently
the never-ending fount riot [eyes too dry to mist
until fingers prune, can still spray bullets
until thirst or thirst for just one more look
sends them skipping as irises prune in the sun]
cars gleam and grass grass is a memory
springs underfoot; & graves spring up underfoot
the bridge is power- like emaciated bridges
washed, as though the downpour nothing stops the downpour
hadn’t flooded of diarrhea — the filth binds
spider’s webs cholera’s web
people shower, run half-filled people kneel for droplets
dishwashers & laundry machines, the desert launders
a kettle screams the jawbone
for someone, of the newest ghost who still
anyone to listen listens, waits, for anyone
“Good Morning! I know you are busy. Will you stop for a while for an interview?”
Sir, what do you want to know? If only you are keen,
And do not look at me with prejudice, I shall explain,
How I ended up here and tell you my whole story_
The story of my journey from the cliff to the plane.
“Yes, I know you are a traveller, tell me all about it. But before that, I wish to know about your origin and background.”
I was part of a big rock, so static without motion.
I used to watch birds in flight on feathered wings,
Going from one end to the other, merrily singing,
Buoyed up by the force of the wind as on swings.
Like them I longed to be free and roaming
But knew I was cradling just a fanciful whim.
I slept most of my life with my dream tucked in my heart.
As time rolled by, my dreams and fancies grew dim.
It was then a tremor shook the very face of the earth,
Loosening my mother boulder from her strong hinge.
She moved and rolled down from the great heights,
On the way a chip got broken, in pain I did twinge.
Thus, I was born. Painfully, alienated from my mother,
I felt so orphaned and lay silent in a dark corner,
Lost and hungering like a dream waiting to wake up.
But my grief gave way to joy, no more I was a mourner.
“It sounds so interesting. How did it all happen? Please tell me…..”
Seeing me lying dejected and despondent, a small stream
Took pity on me and carried me along.
I enjoyed my ride and never more I was sad.
Now to a wider world, joyfully I belong.
Freed from all chains, I am out to view life and enjoy.
I stay in nature’s bosom, free to saunter wherever I wish.
Never feeling the need to pitch my tent, like a gipsy,
I travel along with the stream, with a merry swish.
“So glad to know that your life has taken such an unexpected turn. Now a last question.How do you respond to the popular saying- ‘A Rolling Stone gathers no moss.’”
Sorry, I have nothing to comment. Let men see it that way,
Enjoy life is my creed, my song is the song of liberty.
Leaving all cares and sorrows behind, like a tramp I stroll,
Taking turns and twists, sometimes cascading down in endless novelty.
“Thank you for stopping by to tell the story of your life and sharing your views and aspirations on life”
It's all about Me
Whatever bad you think they say about you,
can't it be people are being misconstrued ?
Your friends stood by in every thin and blue,
believe me hurting they never intended to do.
Sensitivity and emotions in you are a peak high,
even without medication soon will tranquillise,
Having caring and extremely emotive attitude,
Why not think positive, don't ever seclude ?
Depression is only one's subjective feel,
One of the weak spokes of life's wheel,
Travel along and go round and round,
Giggling with cheerful colours and voices around.
Creative with wit you have a perfect paint,
Fascination and magic of your words will never faint,
Catie my true friend if you could trust me,
Believe in Him and see sorrows of past flee !
Written November 17th, 2014
For contest ' It's all about me' by Catie Lindsey
Awarded 1st place
When we travel through the solitary road
Not taken by many of those happy crowd
Hardly we glimpse the direction board
Rather drench in the showers of depreciative words
Pondering over our desired destination
Wondering about the mystical citations
Dreading the results of our action
We may feel perturbed and agitated
Like a daunted child
Abandoned in the field wild
We feel exhausted and dejected
At this crucial time, will emerge an angel
Like the god who appears in a child's dream
To make him smile like a sunbeam
arises as an angel, our inner strength
Help us traverse the road lengthy
The spirit inside us hauls
good spirits and souls
Who will travel along with us
To make our journey successful
So when we travel through the solitary road
Not taken by many of those happy crowd
Never look up for the direction board
Do not carry those depreciative words
Rather kindle your inner force
For the road's end, it foresees
And drive you complete the course
May 9 2022
Find your rhythm
And enhance your mind
Let it lift your spirit
Be gentle and kind
Always go the extra mile
In order to fulfill your purpose
As you travel along in your journey
Continue on with your persistence
As we travel along with a heart full of song,
We've a dream that hangs on a rope;
Like a lantern of light, shining at night,
She shines on the fair dwelling called hope.
The arms of time roll round as we climb,
And our youth fades fast with the years;
With a soul grown numb, with sorrows we come,
Back to the valley of tears.
Still forward we press with faults to confess,
With hearts that need much repair;
Where glistening gleams on soft sunbeams,
Shines on a world of despair.
All lives need change but the heart can estrange,
A soul from the Father above;
And reviling the rod administered by God,
Brings chastening He calls Love.
I so enjoyed my escape into your beautiful mind.
Traveling along synaptic highways,
moving at the speed of thought.
I journeyed to our yesterdays,
happy thoughts encased in light.
Your storehouse of hugs and kisses,
all those smiles that shone so bright.
I saw that look,
as you gazed in the mirror.
Head resting on my shoulder,
you feeling me near.
The taste of orange crush on your tongue.
Were we ever that young?
I could have stayed there forever,
yet your thoughts are your own.
So happy for that slice of time.
Even now we are connected, intertwined.
Come escape into my mind.
Travel along synaptic highways.
Come travel at the speed of thought!
Taking a ride through a valley of dreams,
nothing that you see is all that it seems.
The sun shines on you with a smile on his face,
its a wonderful feeling when you visit this place!
Silver-winged angels escort you as we travel along,
hummingbirds, with tranquility, sing you a song.
Butterflies fly gracefully by with eloquent pace
roses we pass shall paint a smile upon your face!
Serenity overcomes you as the journey proceeds,
nature enchants you, as you recognize her needs.
The beauty is there to enjoy every day of the year,
just open your mind, it will become abundantly clear!
You don't need to dream, just look around.
Everything has beauty, waiting to be found
when you are down, to put a smile on your face.
Open your eyes to the beauty of stars in space!
They shine their light in the dark of night up above,
each one is shining on you and is sending God’s love!
So, wake up the world and let the people shout!
Because love and compassion are what life is all about!
Come along with me, I will take you to a valley of dreams,
where nothing that you see is exactly what it seems.
We travel along a valley, in the glory of heaven above,
stand up together and rejoice in God’s endless love!
As I travel along life's road I focus on spirit divine light God. Spirit's road will lead me through every corner through the sun and storm. Until I reach my spiritual destination. I'm feeling there is no destination life is a journey. So travel the roads wisely life is to be enjoyed every moment make use of every second. In this second I will stand on top of the mountain and touch the sun of spirit on my face and in my soul to strengthen and bring me the power of the sun. In this second what will you do to strengthen your soul.
Dry spell
On a summer day
the wind become standstill,
my memories enmesh
in the heap of dry leaves,
faces close enough
to feel the warmth,
silence fall back-
the tiny bird disappears.
the hand reaches out
after a brief pause,
the soft touches never
travel along the trodden track,
blazing tall trees
wisely leaving
the rain drop behind,
to taunt the tearful eyes.
Ragged and funny
In dire need of money
I bruise the pot-holed streets of the city
Maiming the waste-filled alleys and dirty
Daily I play hide and seek with death on the razor-sharp edge of humanity.
Once I had a home
Now I cannot pay the dues
Once I went to college
Now I cannot pay the fees
Once I had a wife
Now I cannot afford the price
Poor the result of no economic emancipation
Bound to the street because of some people's creation
In a vacuum-filled belly I try the robber's invention
Oouch! I cry in incaceration
This cry , my cry, I cry
Bound to the street, is it God's case
Bound to the street, the street my place
Bound to the street, the street I hate
Eyes closed, tears drop
The drama of my sleeping mystery
unfolding before my mental eyes like a tapestry
I ravish and languish in hunger
Feeding on left-overs
Left by generous shoppers
Hungry I was, am and still will be
The history but of themhitherto societies is a history of class struggle
and exploitation. How shall I leave the street struggle
In such a society tailor-designed to suffer the helpless
Where the should-be-helpers
Are the pioneers of the exploitation,
Suppression and oppression of the defenceless
As for me and my street-mates
We will travel along singing a song
The song, my cry.
Bound to the street, is it God's case
Bound to the street, the street my place
Bound to the street, the street I hate
I come from far further
I am not a bird of your further
You are a son to your father
You are your mother's daughter
I have non to call father or mother
Neither to call sister nor brother
But pay no attention to criticism like weather
Rather lets read the holy book together
Ang gather as a congregation together
The bread as you gather
Lets break share and eat together.
Until we harness a new philosophy
I will always cry
This cry my cry.
Bound to the street, is it God's case
Bound to the street, the street my place
Bound to the street, the street I hate
On Golden Pond
And dear yes, here we are in our winter of life,
slowly rowing through years on this old golden pond.
Such a long way we've come ...
now, how far do we go
when we'll know there is nothing to see there beyond.
Let us bask in the sunlight of our golden pond;
let the sunrays dance softly on this rippling lake.
Let the calmness wrap us
in its sweetest cocoon,
as we travel along to tomorrow's daybreak.
Oh, how lovely this sun and its shawl of blue sky!
Let us drink all this in like the finest red wine.
Such a long way we've come ...
now, how far do we go
until life sets its mark for the end of our time.
As we travel along to the next new daybreak,
let us drink in the beauty we here now attend.
Let's be thankful for days
that have blessed both our lives,
for our sunset is waiting around the next bend.
A small bundle, briquette, blanket wrapped
held close to heart. Soon the new.
We wonder will we be trapped?
When we travel along the road, back
through time to our roots, our father’s
father and beyond our mother’s mother.
Lamps turn down, collars turn upward.
Blue night ablaze with stars, some fall
Burst. Like the whisper of prayers, the word.
One star shines brighter than all, Venus?
Candlelight flickers from doorways.
Laughter raucuous, cheerings of praise.
The balance between my life and my passage
flickers as if blown between the worlds
whose love would I hold up high like a mage?
No matter, the answer flows through me
chaos of love the answer to all I seek
love to each, hugs to the other, cheek
to cheek. Lights out we are still ablaze
remembering all the light flickering down
like scents of pine, coal, cinnamon for days
and fall about us like snowflakes, we taste
wine, warmth burning through to numb toes
Are we there yet? When have we left? Who knows?
Sheri Fresonke Harper 11-30-2013