Long Not the destination Poems

Long Not the destination Poems. Below are the most popular long Not the destination by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Not the destination poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Milestones In Life

Milestones in Life 
By Franklin Price
11/13/2015

Milestones in life are passing
Time stops for none at all
From the day that we are born
Not so  long before we crawl

Then unsteady steps we take
Next thing you know we run
Passing by the markers
Headed for the setting sun

The first day I went off to school
Mom shed a little tear.
Not long before I drove a car;
Then graduation year

A cornucopia of options;
So many things from which to choose.
A myriad of paths to take;
So much to win or lose

Off then to a higher school,
And in a uniform;
Wedding bells and family, working,
Moving through the storm

The book was getting thicker
As I moved from page to page.
Twenty-one was gone;
When I was young, the magic age.

Then through the thirties, forties,
The years went rushing by,
The fifties and the sixties,
Hardly time to blink an eye

Those will all be gone
Tomorrow's seven oh!
So many milestones passed 'til here
So many more to go

Along the way have made good friends
With my wife, on life, a grip
Know it's not the destination
But the milestones of the trip
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Riding Home for Christmas

It came at the right time
Just before my fragile heart
Was about to burst with the largely
Unnecessary stress of work

Some things have to be completed
The boss's demands
Wielding power with no
Consideration for the small man

Or the small woman
(not so small now actually)
I think we are both tired
But rules is rules

They say "it's the journey,
Not the destination"
But the destination can be
Important too..

Anyway we made it
It's been a rocky road 
Travelling via the starlight
Resting when the heat overwhelms

There is so much to look forward to
So much.
I sense it's very nearly time..
I just have to find us a bed for the night
© Sam Scott  Create an image from this poem.

Live Your Life

Always take the longest route to everything
You will have seen the world before you die
It’s not the destination, but the path your taking
You don’t need anything else beside the wide sky
Be the truth in this world, drowning with lie 
Feel the wind, smell the sea and enjoy your life
Cause there’s those way down there who’d like to try
Start living today, start now, don’t waste your time
Stop worrying about everything and enjoy the ride
A minute gone is a minute you can kiss goodbye
You won’t see the whole world, but at least you tried
As long as there’s ground and sky, we’ll walk and fly 
Know the world., see the world in small doses
Before your heart stops beating and your eyes closes
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Transformation

An old truck body sits rusted in the field
Is this a fitting end for which its made?
The hours of sweat that men did yield
For occasional rabbit to seek its shade.

A rope is finally frayed to break
No longer fit to do its chore.
Have the men who made it, made a mistake,
For soon the rope will be no more.

China lies broken at the foot of the bay
The hands from which its made, deceased.
The wood of the cabin has rotted away
As we ponder what’s been increased.

Is there a gain from the losses that each endure?
What purpose each moment that’s given to sacrifice?
When nothing remains of the noble thought so pure
But waste on the side of the road to paradise.

It’s not the destination, but the journey, so they say.
We live to grow the seeds within our soul.
The refuse of our litter all along the traveled way
We leave to pay our passage as a toll.

The world is not increased by us, in some material way.
The measure of a life is not by “things”.
From birth to growth, and death - decay,
True meaning lies in what experience brings.

The old truck body, left to sit within the field
No longer serves the purpose of its birth.
Its body, now transformed, its fate is sealed.
Its beauty moved from coarse to finer worth.


Each moment sacrifices its life for the delivery of its content.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Narrow View of Life

On my journey through life sometimes I have blind spots
I am so focused on my goal that I do not see
what is around me in the world . . . 
     I am fixed and obsessed with a single minded purpose
I am staring at the goal
failing to see the beauty on the fringes
the flight of birds in the sky
         the pleasure of walking in nature
              just taking a breath and doing nothing
yes, I can give myself permission to just do not a thing 
I must leave the dark curved walls of my own making
the long endless tunnel I have created
       unplug . . . .
           take the blinkers off
                  put the headphones down
                              no more hiding
STOP doing the same thing over and over again
and look for the light at the end of my narrow view 
                                    widen my vision . . .  for
as it has been said-   it is all about the journey
      not the destination -

_________________________
April 18, 2018


Poetry/Free Verse/Narrow View On Life
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1012-496-01
All Rights Reserved.  Written Under Pseudonym.


Premium Member In the quiet twilight of my mind, where shadows dance with whispers

In the quiet twilight of my mind, where shadows dance with whispers,
I am but a river, flowing through the landscapes of existence,
Touching the edges of dreams and the core of forgotten memories,
Moving gently, like a sigh carried by the wind, or fiercely, like a storm unleashed,
For life itself is a current, relentless and untamed,
And I, a traveler in her embrace, cannot halt her course.
I glide past the ancient willows, their branches weeping into my soul,
Their stories intertwining with mine, in a tapestry of sorrow and hope,
I feel the stones beneath my surface, smoothened by time's gentle caress,
Each one a testament to the moments I've embraced, the lessons I've learned,
For in this journey, there is no map, no simple strategy to follow,
Only the essence of being, the purity of existence, the unaltered now.
The moon casts her silver light upon my waters, illuminating the depths within,
Revealing the secrets I carry, the desires I hide, the fears I confront,
And as I flow, I realize, it is not the destination that defines me,
But the journey, the way I touch, the way I move, the way I live,
For I am a river, ever-changing, ever-evolving, ever-alive,
A witness to the beauty, the pain, the wonder of this ephemeral life.
So I surrender to the current, to the dance of time and space,
Embracing the unknown, the uncertainties, the mysteries,
For in this flow, I find my truth, my purpose, my being,
A river in a world of rivers, a soul in a sea of souls,
Flowing, touching, living, in the eternal now.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member dialogue

he asked her what he could do for her today
sought more than merely the dishes need doing
sort of reply rather something more deeply intense

by the way he had put the dishwasher on already

her answer did no surprise him but gathered momentum
just be yourself which of course meant you need to find out
on your own which is the best way to proceed

switching the washing machine on would trip the circuit

one step at a time and how he sometimes hated such saying as 
it is the journey that counts on not the destination
patience and coping with uncertainty had not been his forte

but he had prayed and meditated on handing over already

the delusion of permanence had always held a firm grip
with insanity never far away from his soul and mind
he sought guidance by handing over with difficulty

inhale and exhale and do not suffocate any sentient being
life was a bubble and he did not wish to prick the balloon 
build tensile strength instead and reach out for lustre

while darkness had often been a recurring companion

there is a crack in everything that’s where the light gets in

she was right of course and further advanced on a spiritual path
alignment could not and should not be enforced
it was a gift of faith action in trust of guidance which starts

with a simple question and yet so many answers

A Vertical Consideration

The black slurry sound of coal lifted by a shovel
As it enters the locomotive mouth of fire
Consumed in flames as well on dark gray days
Is advised and necessary for movement forward 

In any event the heat and cold are secondary
To other pressing matters of formal conversation
Not worth mentioning as life goes off the rails
Carriages slip into oblivion when leaving the tracks behind

With snow no longer pushed aside, blindly from side to side
No longer facing horizontally as trains are known to go
Coaches fall and with them people's laughter
Vertical movement seems peculiar at times like these

Locomotion in the snow in total free fall seems obscene
Passengers did not sign up for going off the bridge
Surely a refund is in order when disappointed
Ending in ravines was not foreseen 

Not exactly the adventure anticipated for this ride
Certainly not the destination they surmised
We are sure the engineer will have an explanation
If he and others should survive
Form: Quatrain

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