Best Wayward Poems
Ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide
grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passions now abide
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now, alone bereft.
Grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left:
beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide;
for you have left me, long ago, I'm now alone, bereft.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside.
Beside a roaring bonfire, where sparks on night winds glide,
we conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief.
We conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief.
In cold or torrid waves, spent passion now abides,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief,
ah, memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide.
Categories:
wayward, age, dark, introspection, life,
Form:
Pantoum
The wayward wind forever so aloof
across the prairie blowing wild and free;
just like a herd of horses on the hoof,
and running loose with nature’s grand esprit.
A restless spirit is this wayward child
who’s never satisfied in just one place;
she longs to solve the secrets of the wild,
and ne’er her ventured steps will she retrace.
A wayward heart is like the wayward wind,
forever restless, always on the move,
and always searching, seeking, ne’er chagrined;
she’ll leave you lonely and her love disprove.
Beware, before you carelessly depart,
don't wrap your love around a wayward heart.
January 8, 2020
Categories:
wayward, loneliness, lost love, love,
Form:
Sonnet
Wayward strolling travel sorts;
I am homeward bound;
Roaming twix these golden fields;
Walking these tinted bronze grounds;
Hoping at least best;
I find my rest;
Dormant stop by I;
This my traveling's I now grasp my chest as;
I lay down my life;
Onto the ground;
I passed my last breath;
For this you see I'm falling asleep;
On these the golden fields;
6/26/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
~ POETRY SOUP POEM OF THE DAY ~
This poem also found in 2021 POETRY SOUP BOOK: " PS: IT'S STILL POETRY One of the greatest collections of modern poetry"
Categories:
wayward, age, analogy, angst, humanity,
Form:
Free verse
Her Mother says I'm not that bright
in need of supervision.
A wayward male who would likely fail
to make a good decision.
So I've lost my friends... they've disappeared,
my wife gave them the boot.
To up our standing and improve our branding
with people of high repute.
My diet's better so I'm eating greens,
no beer or fatty foods.
But I tell you plain, I try in vain
but I'm in a foul mood.
I dream of things I cannot have
like burgers doused in sauce.
A chicken wing and some onion rings,
all hidden from the Boss.
But her senses keen as she's rarely tricked
when I try to cheat.
She sets me straight then sets my plate
and tells me what to eat.
Our viewing habits are oft discussed
and we are of one accord.
No tennis courts or winter sports
and no watching zombie hordes.
My gaming suffers as she disapproves
so my Xbox gathers dust.
Though when out of sight, I still sneak at night
to satisfy my lust.
When I talk to her... she twists my words
to points of her own choosing.
A terse reply, she then starts to cry
which makes it more confusing.
What keeps me here? I love my wife,
would never find another.
So I will obey and I'm here to stay
just to piss off her dear Mother.
The End
^Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your Uncle.
Categories:
wayward, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
The summer rain fell softly upon me as I traveled along
I felt alive and energized and I began to sing an old song
The weeping willows stand as statues of a forgotten past
The flower garden, with its' angel fountain, glows as I pass
The rain gave way to a bright sunny day indeed
I rushed away each of these precious moments, there was no need
I found a turtle by the walk, I let him go on by
I see everything so clearly it makes my heart cry
Beckoning my soul is the song of the bluebird far away
His gentle song tugs at my heart along my way
I chisel a little more of my sad past as I go
Oh Lord, help this country boy clear his soul
Categories:
wayward, christian,
Form:
Free verse
Wayward nights drift off to dream
gone, attention hid past the sleep
oceans lift, internal waves unsettling
afloat, another restless midnight keeps
Place your skin against my arrival
held taught, where doubt makes way
let soft caresses command attention
until brought back unto a lighter day
Painted lines inside a crimson room
knowing not what the unknown shows
squeezing tight as the flower blooms
leaving footprints where tender flows
The euphoria of love can't be replicated
Lay down thine heart and be sedated
Categories:
wayward, love,
Form:
Sonnet
Now she's here
and now she's there,
flittering and flying
through the hours in a day,
laughing now, then crying.
Her moods are fleeting,
they grasp her in a flash
then just as fast they fizzle
like a firework in the rain.
Would that she were constant
like the moon!
self-directed, self-assured,
without a care,
but she is wayward,
ever flickering,
fluttering,
floundering,
more there than anywhere.
Categories:
wayward, feelings,
Form:
Verse
Wayward! Am I lost not, I just haven't found my way
12/22/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
Categories:
wayward, allusion, analogy, anxiety, destiny,
Form:
Monoku
Lament!
I...
I am just a visitor;
Here far from home;
Created by my Father sent here alone;
My fellow Humanity us together here are sinful drones;
Drowning spiritual beings cast in flesh and bones;
More than just the body here on this Earth alone;
I'm just a wayward visitor;
7/2/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
Categories:
wayward, adventure, analogy, creation, how
Form:
Rhyme
Memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide
grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left,
in cold or torrid waves, our spent passion, now abides
for you have left me, long ago, alone now I'm bereft.
Grasping for the grains of sentiment sometimes left
beside a roaring bonfire, where fireflies on night's wind glide;
for you have left me, long ago, alone now I'm bereft.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside.
Beside a roaring bonfire, where fireflies on night's wind glide,
we conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief.
I huddle in a dune's dark shade with nothing left inside,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief.
We conceive a wayward child, a changeling child, a thief
in cold or torrid waves, spent passion, now abides,
as the waves of age and ages, return only grief.
Memory is a fickle lover succumbing to the tide.
First Published by Wilderness House Literary Review 2013
Categories:
wayward, fairy,
Form:
Pantoum
April winds.
Cold but dry.
Rambling around
Buildings, tall and short.
They seem to have a voice:
Come back to me.
Come back to me.
I hate such wayward winds
They insist
I miss you so.
I miss you so.
My heart is like a stone.
She left.
Her fault
Blow wind blow
In its lamenting tunes.
But then it slowed.
It was a wind no more.
A soft breeze had blown
The clouds away.
A knock on the door.
There she stood,
Eyes sparkling
Lips quivering.
I came to prepare breakfast
Just for you and me.
The kiss was long and lingering.
Categories:
wayward, love, wind,
Form:
Free verse
deep in thoughts
are memories of you
lodestone of dreams
that waft on by
like a log in river
tossed about
spiraling
in and out
of current
wandering
through the deep
dark depths
of the a journey
unknown
only resting
in the consciousness
of morningtide
awaiting
to be swept
away again
in the depths
of dreams
)9/03/2021
Categories:
wayward, dream, journey, memory,
Form:
Free verse
He rode his dismal horse
all day and night
and to the grave of ashes.
A life
and less than a life
Fantasies
crept up like flaming fire.
Even der Fuhrer was amazed.
Like many of low esteem
he flaunted his braggadocio,
pounding it in
as with a steel hammer.
Categories:
wayward, addiction,
Form:
Free verse
Grouped by four and there is even more.
Grouped by three and then none believe.
It is a mad world and many are deceived.
They don’t care so many I will deplore.
Many just go around making my heart sore.
But they don’t care because there so naïve.
I have given them many thoughts to conceive.
But they don’t care so I’ll just shut the door.
I’ll just throw up my hands,
And I’ll just be said and done.
I’ll just throw it to the sands.
I’ll lie down under the Sun.
I’ll just have to make a lost and found,
Because all of them are wayward bound!
© Copyright: Ann Rich 2006
Categories:
wayward, faith, hope, imagination, inspirational,
Form:
Sonnet
once an old raven named moe
wanted to be a young crow
friends did surmise
he'd end up in pies
so flew him away in tow.
Categories:
wayward, bird, giggle, hilarious, humor,
Form:
Limerick