The World slowly changes,
Everything in time renews,
Eventually they’ll make history
Out of tomorrow’s news.
The poor will get poorer as
The rich demand more and more,
Just the thickness of a wage slip
Keeping poverty from the door.
The politicians will argue,
Send armies off to fight,
Each side insisting they
Are the ones in the right.
The population changes as
The generations move on
With maybe a small chance they’ll
Leatn from mistakes of those gone.
The planet keeps on circling
On its predictable run
To inevitable immolation with
The fiery death of the Sun.
Will we have by then escaped,
Travelled long and far
To a new welcoming planet
Orbiting a different star,
The long held dreams
Of the virile Human Race
To expand our influence
Into deep Outer Space?
And will we treat that planet
Like a home of value and worth
Or will we wreck and plllage it
The way we did Old Mother Earth?
&
We view the hill
down to the valley floor,
we know that we must climb the other side,
we have no map, no guide
yet we travel, hopeful to arrive
a trip that each and every one of us must make
a journey that we take,
moving ever onwards
slow at dawn, and slower still at dusk,
we do not leave because we will
we leave because we must,
driven eels,
who know the great sargasso sea awaits,
we shake the fickle hand of fate
and take whatever circumstance may come to be,
feet first, to swim the ocean of our destiny
Good night my love adieu
Let the moon whisk away your fears
Angels will watch over you
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
I dream of journeys to contemplate
of driving alone on a lined snow-laden road
with no destination
of gliding through the wilderness on a train
its whistle a haunting sound
over bridges with deep water moving beneath
and boreal trees all around
of flying in a diminutive airplane over the ocean
with no land to observe
lost in the blue
listening to every creaking sound
of floating in a sailboat across the sea
seeking my true north in tranquility
I shift my mind
through the wild trajectories
of life
I often feel I have turned the corner
refusing to the titterings of despair
I cannot hold back the spring
the snowman is no more
I must welcome summer
and hear the voices chattering
of travellers tales
from their dust bone journeys
A baseball glove lies on its back
in a trunk of items
once fresh and youthful
now discarded for
love and marriage
perhaps a stroller
whose blue-eyed
blue-bootied
occupant will
himself!
soon be
the proud owner
of his first glove
winter's freezing temps
snowy days with icy woes
slippery journeys
Scintillating lights softly dancing with the moon
dreamy music playing from the halls of our memory
this is your story and this is mine
Tall willowy blades of grass leaning gently towards hills
midnight fantasies that calm our weary minds
this is your place and this is mine
Secrets of lives yet untold beneath the honest stars
each thought becomes a healing bless of joyful rest
this is your moment of glory and also mine
Glide with me towards tomorrow leave behind all sorrow
join the magic of night's journey and come away with me
this is your story, and it is also mine.
A catalogue came in the mail
Of places I could visit,
Descriptions of the journeys
Both exotic and exquisite.
The trips were educational,
For travel and for learning,
With some possible connections
To new friends upon returning.
The itineraries beckoned –
Every country you’d consider
If you had the savings ready
And the time that you could fritter.
So I thumbed through all the pages
Of the places for exploring,
But for now, my home has more appeal
Than anyplace for touring.
On life's journeys do we stop to reflect
take stock of where we have been
Asking pointed questions helps us select
a path forward to avoid taint of sin
Where have we been? Where are we going?
To Whom will we report in the end?
In order to reap, we have to keep sowing
Lovingly, our gardens to tend
You can travel to the pyramids.
Or Tutankhamen’s tomb.
Gaze upon the Parthenon.
In Athens, I presume.
Eat your lunch on Jungfraujoch.
Or Paris, for a start.
But nothing stirs the senses
Like journeys of the heart.
“Journeys”
I reread “Grapes of Wrath”
Today,
Then went to El Paso
And stared at the wall.
"Oh beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain."
----------
Tales from ancestral lore decree
How journeys prompt discovery.
Evolving visions, sacred themes,
Beckoned onward those hopes and dreams:
One land became that promised place
Undaunted seekers could embrace -
No plight would prove too burdensome
That might deny wayfarers from
Immigrating to obtain
Freedoms that they could thus sustain.
Unbowed by struggles they would face
Long suffered souls these tests embraced;
Long wandered wards from tumults fought
Advancing quests for futures sought.
Now, praise their spirit rightly famed -
Defend those rights so nobly gained.
I knew of a man who journeyed himself a threefold
Before he could face decease.
First, his coming into the world
It was I could say a thrill to all
Albeit the months' trials
He huffed and puffed
Wishing the new environment to be favourable ;
But it felt horrendous
However, he was courageous to endure the child's stage
This: marked the first-ended but starting point of his journey.
Thereafter he embarked on and embraced his secular travel
With the hanker of being an elite
And surely he became,
Achieving his bona fide Masters
With a monthly emolument in his name.
This: paved the path to his final journey.
That was the retired stage
Yes, he journeyed the journey of the old
And found no nicety of this age
Then, on spec, the jealous fate turned him to elapse
Craving the dude's journey to a halt.
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