Best Wanders Poems
I love to let my mind wander in the morning…while I walk the streets alone…
I never know where it will lead me…you might say my mind has a mind of its own.
Sometimes it leads to my friends, my children, my grandchildren…my wife.
other times it leads to God, love, war, hate or other mysteries of life.
Then there are mornings like this morning…where before my walk is done…
My mind, by the kind of questions it asks, decided to have a little fun.
Does the moon ever wonder about how she phases in and out…
does she ever ask herself why?
Is there a star that ever feels lonely and wishes for a friend to share the sky?
Is there a bird who’s ever wished she could sing a different song…
or that her music came with words?
Is there a cricket who’s ever wondered what it’d be like to be a bird?
Is there a snake who's ever wished he could walk instead of crawl?
Is there an evergreen whose ever wished she could be filled with color in the fall?
After listening to the voices of so many other animals…
is there a rabbit out there who wishes he had a voice too?
Is there an owl who wishes he could ask What, When, Where or How…
instead of always asking Who?
Are the clouds in the night happy being white or would another color they prefer?
Does the wind ever wish her beauty could be seen…or is she happy only being heard?
Is the water in the ocean at night happy being dark…or would it prefer to glow?
When not walking beside, behind or in front of me…where does my shadow go?
I never know where my mind will take me…where its wonderings will roam
from the time I step out my front door…until I find my way back home.
But it’s fun on mornings…like this morning…
with my untethered mind as my guide…
to let it lead
while I sit back
hold on tight
and just enjoy the ride.
Categories:
wanders, imagination,
Form:
Rhyme
In me, dwells therein a pilgrim soul.
Always on the move and on the go.
It growls, with a very strong voice:
“Do not dare fence me in…worse…
To attempt to still my strong voice.”
Not penning here to make you smile.
Prefer, walking on nails for many miles.
To be sweet and cute is hardly my tone.
Prefer the fresh scent of a summer rain.
Than following the crowd, the ultimate pain.
I’ve given up, calling myself a real poet.
That name belongs to some, I know it!
We are not poets simply just because we
are online.
There is my vocabulary to expand greatly.
And to learn the use of imagery tastefully.
If the fates allow me more time on earth.
Perhaps in a few more years, I will write
something of worth.
Please know, I, myself, am not drunk on my writes.
Meanwhile, I know it is of no use to plagiarize or cheat,
using AI!
Pen of the present, as much as you can.
I would like to know you-now, not who you
were way back when
Wake up this world to honor truth,, it is your duty.
To wed, both love and beauty, the true poetic trophy.
7/18/2023
4am PST
Categories:
wanders, creation, inspiration, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
Decided to write about the ills of the world.
Perhaps I'd need a bigger forum
for such a vast undertaking.
Now let me see, where should I start,
with the Neanderthals?
Well, methinks nothing much has changed
since we became “civilized”.
Wow! That was quite a stretch,
The word civilized is open to interpretation.
In my wee brain, it means
acting in a civilized manner towards
our fellow *****sapiens.
Listening to the six o'clock news any day
and you'd be hard pressed to find
any examples of civilized behaviour.
Is it just the mood I'm in today?
NO! It's been like this since the dawn of time.
I absolutely DO NOT UNDERSTAND!!!
Can we justify it by saying.
“It's who we are... a combative species?”
There, that let's us off the hook.
With today's modern technology
methinks it will only get worse.
We will all become detached from our feelings,
robotic like the mechanical creatures
that will some day be the rue of mankind.
I don't want to be around to see it!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Categories:
wanders, peace, people,
Form:
Narrative
At midnight each Halloween
scary scenes fill nightmare dreams.
And evil wanders unseen
lurking near the sound of screams.
Stepping outside of the box
I pondered on the undead.
And why zombies take these walks
filling hearts with fear and dread.
Freed from their graves, they're hidden
amidst the shadows of light.
And dine upon forbidden
morsels garnered from the night.
The breaking of nature's rules
spurs supernatural fears.
And motivates these foul ghouls
to be harbingers of tears.
With their moldy flesh rotting,
they feel no pleasure or pain.
And despite all their plotting,
they'll never live again.
An empty shell with no soul,
hunger drives these demon spawn.
For when they crawl from their hole,
it's live brains they feast upon.
(Quatrain)
10/3/2015
Categories:
wanders, fantasy, halloween, imagery, imagination,
Form:
Quatrain
It is dark and the sky
is alight with stars,
they twinkle innocently;
secretly carrying their own
wishes that were cast upon
them by passing tongues of
children and adults alike.
The moon shines even brighter
still, it gives all life a
pearl glow in the absence of
the hidden sun.
A breeze blows making trees sway
softly and their leaves flutter
like wings of a bird.
Sound emits eerily among the
nooks and crannies hidden beneath
our feet where only spirits roam.
Midnight has struck and many may
wander into its secret realm of
nocturnal enchantment and be bewitched
by a single ray of pearl white light
gracefully given by the moon and stars,
like gifts from an angel – precious
and forever eternal.
Categories:
wanders, fantasy, imagination, life, moon,
Form:
Free verse
AS THE CHOSEN WANDERS
MORTALS ALLEGE OWNERSHIP OF PURE KNOWLEDGE
TO DECODE AND ANSWER EVERY UNIVERSAL RIDDLE
LIVING WITHIN HEARTS AND MINDS IS PRIMAL RAGE
BLACK AS NIGHT WITH THE DEEPEST SHADE OF EVIL
BIOLOGICAL ENTITY EMBRACING PLANETARY MOTION
EVOLVE NOT BY MANIPULATIONS OF PRIME NUMBERS
CONSCIOUSNESS IS A RARE TRANSCENDENT POTION
FIRE AND ICE WILL NEVER EXTINGUISH LIKE EMBERS
THE MAGIC OF LOVE TELLS A TALE OF ENCHANTMENT
WHILE A QUINTESSENTIAL SPIRIT ALWAYS WONDERS
INCESSANTLY REACHING TO UNFURL THE FIRMAMENT
AT THE EDGE OF INFINITY AS THE CHOSEN WANDERS
Written about 12 years ago
aboard a massive cruise liner
Categories:
wanders, humanity,
Form:
Rhyme
I leave alone tonight,
drown by odd lamenting desire
to embrace sea cliff ,
a lonely child of the south,
only luna is my witness,
and some fluttering hope!
While I am drinking
fluids of heavenly fondness,
I am grasping feeble dreams,
I am offering my hands,
restless soul endeavor
to join undying stars!
Stillness does not stifle me,
solitude does not impede upon me,
twilight nurtures my core!
Grounded by sultry air,
I am now on boundaries of earth and bliss.
Where my yearning, my soul wanders
when knows to belong
neither of them?
Categories:
wanders, inspirational
Form:
Free verse
The Empty Scrolls of Time: A lament for the Unlearned
(The boy who regrets not valuing education)
~Jamuel Yaw Asare
Kofi’s eyes once gleamed with mischief and wonder, but now they dimly reflect the what-ifs and if-onlys that haunt him. He wanders through days like a traveler lost in a desert, searching for an oasis that vanished long ago.
He remembers the school gates, once a threshold to a world of discovery, now a reminder of opportunities forsaken. The classrooms, once a canvas for dreams, now a blank page he cannot fill.
Regret whispers in his ear, a relentless breeze that rustles the leaves of his mind. ‘What if I had learned to read the world beyond the streets? What if I had solved the puzzles of mathematics and unlocked the secrets of science?’
Kofi’s heart aches with the longing to turn back time, to sit in those classrooms, to ask questions, to learn, to grow. But the clock ticks on, merciless and unforgiving.
Now, he roams the streets, a wanderer in a world that moves forward without him. His footsteps echo with the silence of missed chances, a reminder that knowledge is the only currency that truly matters.
Kofi’s story becomes a cautionary tale, a whispered warning to those who would squander the gift of education. For in the end, it is not the years we live that matter, but the life we live in those years.
Categories:
wanders, africa, anxiety, change, character,
Form:
Free verse
In the labyrinth of thoughts, my mind wanders through the corridors of reflection,
Each twist and turn a whisper of the soul,
For truth, raw and unadorned, can cut like a blade,
But wrapped in laughter, it becomes a balm, a gentle revelation.
In the theater of life, we don masks of mirth,
Hiding the sharp edges of reality behind veils of humor,
For the heart can only bear so much weight, so many scars,
And laughter, like a salve, soothes the wounds left by truth's touch.
Oh, how we weave our words with threads of irony,
Creating tapestries of wisdom hidden in fantasy,
For in jest, we find the courage to speak the unspeakable,
To reveal the hidden corners of our hearts, without fear of reprisal.
In the garden of introspection, I sit beneath the moon's soft glow,
Contemplating the dual nature of truth and humor,
Each thought a blossom, each revelation a ripe fruit,
Sweet and bitter, entwined in the branches of understanding.
The world outside is a stage, where actors play their parts,
But here, in this sacred space, I remove my mask,
And let the cool breeze of authenticity wash over me,
For in the quiet of the night, there is no need for pretense.
Yet, even in this sanctuary, I recognize the power of laughter,
A bridge between hearts, a balm for the soul,
For truth, when spoken with a smile, can heal as much as it reveals,
Transforming the harsh light of reality into a gentle glow.
So let us dance this dance, between truth and jest,
Finding the balance that allows us to speak and be heard,
For in laughter, there is acceptance, and in acceptance, there is love,
A connection that transcends the boundaries of words and masks.
In the twilight of a dreamscape, where shadows dance with light,
I find solace in the wisdom of jest,
For in laughter, I see the path to truth,
A path that winds through the heart and leads to the soul.
If you wish to tell people the truth, make them laugh, or they will kill you.
Categories:
wanders, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
My mind wanders
o'er the firmament
and the seven seas
Whether or not
it moves me
My thoughts form and
dissolve... reform
in kaleidoscopic fashion
Some display more, some less
passion... dispassion... ere they're ashen
Time on my hands
boon or bane ~
Ever-shifting my view
of sane and insane
Categories:
wanders, journey, time,
Form:
Rhyme
A little boy from the city
down on the farm for a day
wanders away
to look at the sheep
and finds a bull
penned up to go
to the county fair.
The boy loves
the big Texas Longhorn
quietly eating his hay.
The boy smiles at him
admires his beautiful horns
thinks they're handlebars
the biggest he’s ever seen.
So over the fence for a ride.
Donal Mahoney
Categories:
wanders, child,
Form:
Blank verse
Wildcat
wanders about
among the wildflowers
searching for a tasty rabbit
hungry
2-12-2020
Modern OR Traditional Cinquain Poetry Contest
William Kekaula
Categories:
wanders, animal, cat, nature, poems,
Form:
Cinquain
Alone wanders
The white heron
And picks pathways
Through streams wending
A peculiar kind of a bird is he,
Who looks like some sort of bird-bush
(or tree)
And perhaps he goes
And feeds at God’s knee,
Does he…
7/12/2019
Categories:
wanders, animal, bird, humor, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
Decided to write about the ills of the world.
Perhaps I'd need a bigger forum
for such a vast undertaking.
Now let me see, where should I start,
with the Neanderthals?
Well, methinks nothing much has changed
since we became “civilized”.
Wow! That was quite a stretch,
The word civilized is open to interpretation.
In my wee brain, it means
acting in a civilized manner towards
our fellow *****sapiens.
Listen to the six o'clock news any day
and you'd be hard pressed to find
any examples of civilized behavior.
Is it just the mood I'm in today?
NO! It's been like this since the dawn of time.
I absolutely DO NOT UNDERSTAND!!!
Can we justify it by saying,
“It's who we are... a combative species?”
There, that lets us off the hook.
With today's modern technology
methinks it will only get worse.
We will all become detached from our feelings,
robotic like the mechanical creatures
that will someday be the rue of mankind.
I don't want to be alive to see it!
Categories:
wanders, senses,
Form:
Narrative
Sunshine cascades
Through a cloudless sky
Winter chill fades
As Spring draws nigh
New buds are sprouting
As the lilacs prepare
The snowmen are pouting
As they melt everywhere
The fresh air so crisp
Trees turning green
Snow's now just a wisp
Barely part of the scene
Fields are alive
Wildflowers in bloom
Folks eagerly strive
To forget Winter's gloom
* for contest "Bring On Spring"
sponsored by Francine Roberts
Categories:
wanders, nature, seasons
Form:
Rhyme