Best World Traveler Poems
Flowing river of silver light; play your eternal song.
World traveler on a mission; quench the thirst of many souls.
Endearing river, sign your name upon this aging, sun parched Earth.
As birds do in the serenity and majesty of sunset skies,
Some lose their inherent passion to roam.
So, we danced amid candlelight and the fireflies;
We did so when Harry came home.
His European adventure at an end,
After searching, after seeking hither and yon,
World traveler with a homeward trend,
At ease with shiny wood, pastel chiffon.
When Harry came home, the bees were hummin'
And butterflies floated lazily by;
When Harry came, guitars were strummin'
In the sultry heat of hot July.
When Harry came, he gave a hoot,
And swept me off my feet!
When Harry came home, the orchard was in fruit,
And honey was so sweet.
When Harry came home, time stood still
As he paused upon the stair;
When Harry came, whippoorwill,
And all was sunshine and fair.
Its sonorous tone has struck the hours for well over a hundred years,
But time hath surely taken its toll on its weary wheels and gears.
'Tis built of sturdy oak by craftsmen who took pride in their guild.
My old friend stands nigh seven feet tall and leaves my life fulfilled.
To keep fit he needs a tune-up now and then as all we old guys do,
And with a generous squirt of oil here and there, he runs just like new!
His beaming face shines and his rhythmic tick-tock tells me all is well.
He's a dear and treasured companion for all who in this home do dwell.
Oh, if only he could talk of the many things he's witnessed during his life;
Birth, death, sad and happy times, the struggles of foolish man in strife.
Old Grandpap has been quite the world traveler since his birth in Bavaria.
He's been to Japan and all over America - he's covered a lot of area!
How comforting it is to hear his soothing chimes in the still of the night,
Knowing that he is keeping time for me and that everything is alright.
With each pendulum swing he reminds me that my time on earth is measured.
Time I dare not squander and time with friends and family must be treasured!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
If you haven't yet met mister All,
he's a renowned world traveler.
He's in every port,
postulates for sport;
a self-proclaimed mysteries unraveler.
Doubtless you know mister All,
any space becomes his dominion.
His view never bends,
as he loudly contends,
everyone must accept his opinion.
Surely you've suffered mister All,
he's every man's familiar relation.
He's anxious to show it,
his first name is Know-it;
he dominates every conversation.
Not My “Buddy”
When my friend Nancy moved to a new apartment
For the remainder of her Senior year
Her doggone dog “Buddy” was not allowed
As she asked for my help, I was moved by her tears
A tiny brown mutt who wore a red bandana
Was not a visitor I wanted to take in
But she thought her dog was the top banana
To ease Nancy’s concerns, I finally took him
He was supposed to come with food and instructions
Never before had I provided for a dog’s care
But when Nancy drove up and Buddy arrived at my house
His food and care guide had vanished in thin air
My cats were upset, hid under the couch and bed
As Buddy sniffed around the house for playmates
I called Nancy when Buddy tore up my new rug
She said he was lonely and just needed a date
Nancy suggested I take him on car trips
Buddy fancied himself to be a world traveler
But dog smells linger and I gave him no rides
So he found vengeance by climbing into a sewer
The nine-month school year lingered forever
By now my cats had taken to escaping in trees
When June finally came, I couldn’t wait to say goodbye
But that’s when Nancy sobbed and moaned, “Oh, pretty please.”
Her mother didn’t want Buddy at her house either
And Nancy asked me to keep him all summer
When I replied, “No, he needs to spend time with you”
I quickly lost my best friend, what a bummer!
Dearest Cousin Madelyn,
Let’s sit in the rowboat, near the dawn’s verdant shore.
Where a squirrel sits under the Oak, that we once...so adored!
We can discuss music, or our fabulous families’activities.
Later, listen to jazz, Dave Brubeck, who was our sweet, chosen proclivity.
It was so fantastic, to be blessed with an intelligent cousin,like you.
Teaching me, oh so many things, I did not know how to do.
And,now, alas, you have gone to be in the heavens above.
You, Madelyn, who was the gentlest epitome of love!
Illness robbed this earth of your laughter and endless mirth.
You never whined about pain, you were not one to whine about hurt!
You are free now to explore the marvels of your beloved, outer space.
I can see that majestic, starlit, smile on your face.
We join here today at a Celebration of Your Life.
The spirit of you, is here, gently erasing our earthly strife.
Love,
Cousin Pangie
Dedeication. Madelyn was a poet here for a only a brief period of time. She was, by then, too ill to write.
Like many here, she was a teacher! In Wisconsin~ who specialized in science.. Her biggest thrilll was winning an award and going to where Astronauts train.
A teacher who actually taught for the joy of being with children~not a large paycheck or more days off. Madelyn also taught skiing on the weekends in the hills of Wisconsin.
She had no love for those out the destroy the Comstitution or American values.
She was a true Pariot.
A lover of animals, she fed the deer in her backyard, loved flying, boating, water skiing and sno-shoeing!
Her life was about service and love...of those countries from whence her grandparents came. Intensely, proud. And she was a world traveler, too.
5/16/2022
I once knew a boy,
without guile and innocent.
We milked the cow
and goats together,
and as we worked,
we made up stories
of the secret life
of the cow,
and how
she was a sort of
super hero,
a bovine 007,
world traveler,
when we weren't
watching her.
Then one day,
the boy disappeared.
Perhaps,
some synapse
short circuited,
or some
unspoken incident.
Some one else
was in his place.
Abducted, possessed?
I never saw the boy
again.
Symptoms are not who I am
Disease is not my name
Medication is not your fix-it-up
And treatments are not your game
My body is not your fieldwork
This machine that lets me live
My mind is not that experiment
It has yet plenty thoughts to give
Do you know what?
Choices routine and home
Those aren't yours
Please leave me alone
I don't want to take a test
Or endure such pokes and pills
I have enough going on
Without those wrecking side effect chills
Listen to my feeling
Of why I chose not intervention
You'll understand my voice
If you have the right intention
Grace and God. Beauty and life!
This is me! Potential Power Prosperity
Third grade teacher, bird watcher, world traveler
Piano player, pastry baker, flower planter
I am with my family!
[Please note: I wrote this as it is important to see reality from the point of view of the virus as nature does not exist for our benefit, but has its own purposes.]
I come on the wind,
or in a jet if I must,
for distance, borders,
mean nothing to me--
I will infect you
and turn you into dust
wherever you may flee,
for I am a world traveler,
after all, you see....
And I am arbitrary--
so fickle!
Some of you I will kill,
but most I'll just make ill,
my thrill!
I'm invisible to your eye,
and I don't care much
if you wail, or just sigh,
I have to live too,
don't I?
So fear what you can't see,
for that is me--
your pride got too big
so my ma, Nature,
is gonna make you dig--
for a cure, for a hope,
or else for a grave.
Now don't be a dope,
you ain't no gods,
don't fight the odds--
you wanna live,
and so do I.
On a runway suited to launch anyone to anywhere in the world;
On a jet plane engineered and well equipped to take me there;
Without a doubt, I was determined to be a world traveler.
I dreamed, prepared, and was driven to be the best.
My biggest supporters were my Lord and my mom, and
such support would come to be the 'one sustaining anchor'
for my soul to successfully launch my dream and chosen work.
I had a model for success, and he was my human hero.
Others had charisma and showmanship. My hero had
character and humility, ingredients that I knew were
required for the kind of success that I was seeking.
Not long after launching, there was lots of turbulence,
but that was only the beginning of 'dream-altering'.
The plane was highjacked, and I along with hundred
of others were blindfolded. The pilot was forced to land
in a desert.
From that day forward, my dreams, like paper planes
we made as kids didn't fly; neither did many parts
of my dream that became a nightmare. But we kept
making paper planes..
Remember this: The vast majority or nearly every plane
that launches also lands safely. However, 100% of planes
that do not launch, never land. Life happens and throughout
my journey, I have learned that 'dreams that turn into nightmares
do not have to make me a nightmare'. By God's Grace alone, I
weathered the storms, and in spite of all that went supposedly
wrong, God has been good all along the journey. Launch!
081122PSCtest, PAPER AIRPLANES, John Lawless
Fiction based on truth
The Dreamers©
I think oft what it would be like to be one of them
To look at the world through rose colored glasses
Where the world is perfect according to my childhood dreams
In that dream I would be a pilot, handsome and tall
A world traveler to boot
I would be married to the girl next door
The vivacious blonde with that voluptuous figure
Somehow as if by magic I would be rich as well as famous
My model looks would have me featured in a magazine
This would be a follow up to my bestselling book which is
Now being turned into the greatest movie of all time
The movie is a documentary about my days as a rock star
It would highlight my younger years
As a pro athlete and renowned artist extraordinaire
The captivating television interview for my hit movie
Held at my countryside estate overlooking the ocean
It is prominently featured in Homes & Gardens magazine
Having won the lottery my days are filled with
Time to spend with family and friends at will
Or inventing the greatest next best thing
My ideal children seemingly raise themselves
To become childhood prodigies
When I come back to reality in my modest home
Readying myself to go to my everyday job
And writing poetry waiting to be discovered
I wonder “Is this as good as it gets”
Andreas Simic©
Rita was visiting. She pointed off the road. Let’s go there. So we did. It was the CIA - Culinary Institute of America. Like Auntie Mame, my aunt was a world traveler, an adventurer. My parents were not. My first taste of different.
fancy and fruitful
red plums and pastry aplomb -
a close call with life
There is crisscrossing of paths. One of my military assignments was Oahu, where my aunt no longer a spinster (her dad’s old fashioned label) was living. I’d traipse off to meet her, riding my moped. We’d have lunch at JC Penny’s coffee shop. She’d be surprised that I’d travel so far but there was something wild and adventurous in my twenty-something blood; and we only had one car.
a moped useful
for trekking to and from, up
to island stars
My son was almost one when he traveled with us to the Hawaiian islands. He’d go much farther, to Guam, and meet the woman he’d marry. After becoming a submariner chef, he’d win an Iron Chef contest, which would lead him to mom’s hometown where he’d get two degrees at the CIA.
does God sow these scenes
lead us to places unseen -
wildest dreams are birthed
Life is an adventure. I’d not had the faith to believe that but God had surely shown me the smorgasbord. On the smorgasbord of life, I ride the waves, the crest’s exciting, the bounce inviting.
God’s faithfulness sets
a table with bread and wine -
prolific support
Sea waters seem stagnant during this pandemic. We are at a lull, missing people and our lives. We are starved for the loaves and fishes God provides. I must have faith, this time around.
hunger greets God’s word
creator-restorer of faith -
snowfall like manna
2/28/2021
My name is daisy
And I like to bask in sun and be just a little lazy
Yellow is my domain
Don't it want to drive you just a little insane
I am a world traveler
Dressed in many coated furs
I love to lounge by valleys and creeks
Even mountain tops at their highest peaks
Don't mind my matted hair
May be parted but its still has golden flare
Been stepped on one to many times
But I bounce back every time
Members of family had heads chopped off
By farmers who want to lower their crops
I love to play splish splash with the rain
Makes my fragrance drive one insane
I can even tell if you like butter
By holding me under chin like there's no other
So stop by and just pluck me up
For I just want to be somebody's butter cup
I am good today
Things are busy
Classes are a little frustrating
But generally good.
How about you my friends?
Do you have any hobbies?
What are they?
I would like to be a great lover
I want to live in my poetry forever
I would like to be world traveler
I want to be a good friend
I want to talk to the world
I don't want to be
The End...
I’ve travelled the world
Inside a tin can
Nearly even drowned
Several times and
I’ve seen many things.
I’ve paid no fare
Nor bought tickets
It was all free
And I loved it.
Though I was
Not loved by
Anyone.
I am
Just a
Bug.