Long Travellers Poems
Long Travellers Poems. Below are the most popular long Travellers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Travellers poems by poem length and keyword.
We call it progress. We call it convenience.
But rarely do we stop to ask what it’s doing to us.
Technology promised to save time, yet we feel busier.
Promised to connect us, yet we feel lonelier.
This is my reflection on the tool that runs our lives
and the choice we still have in how we use it.
We built machines to think faster than us,
and phones to remember what we forget.
We made light that lives inside glass,
and voices that travel across oceans in a second.
Technology feeds us, heals us, connects us.
A tap and food arrives.
A click and a doctor answers.
A message and "good night" reaches someone before they sleep.
But it also takes.
It takes our eyes from the sky,
our hands from each other,
our quiet from the night.
Maybe technology is not good or bad.
Maybe it’s a mirror.
It shows what we choose to build with it.
Bridges or walls.
Noise or poetry.
So I choose to use it to write this.
To reach you.
To leave something soft in a loud world.
Travellers The Poet Eswatini (Shamase Imbongi Yemswati)
#Technology
#Poetry
#Reflections
#ModernLife
#hlezi_siphila_njalo
#khwanatela_khwanati
Line of enquiry:
"We look for that that does not come and go
it cannot be organic form, subject to decay
thoughts and beliefs are fickle, how little we know
yet come what may, our inner child continues to play."
Souls search for the eternal, silently casting their gaze,
pondering about what remains untouched by fading days.
What are we but primitive forms, easily led astray.
Upon a quest for the timeless that will forever stay.
Thoughts and beliefs are fragile like whispers in the wind.
Volatile and flowing in a dance that can easily rescind.
How little some know about their inner cosmic aspect,
yet onward we journey, undeterred by the prospect.
In the theatre of life our inner child takes the stage.
A playful spirit immune to the true wisdom of age.
Through tribulations and triumphs our characters change.
Laughing in innocence, youth cares not how the storms engage.
We are mere guests to travellers we meet on the highway,
each one with a lesson but most never really stay.
Our spirits flourish when we search for sincere meaning,
so if we do not question, then life can be demeaning.
For in seeking the eternal in a world of ebb and flow,
we find comfort in the constant, where inner treasures grow,
so, let my heart ignite in intimate fields where dreams remain.
To embrace tomorrow, regardless to what hopes we attain.
I keep hurting myself
day by day,
a quiet ache
with no visible wound.
Perhaps I need a break.
I am exhausted,
overwhelmed
by something I cannot name.
Is this a sign to stop?
Or an obstacle
before something greater?
I do not know.
They say the world is harsh
on the less fortunate.
Am I meeting it now,
face to face?
I do not know.
If we are travellers,
how many miles are left for me?
This road feels endless,
all rocks and thorns,
no roses in sight.
Will I reach the peak?
I do not know.
They say positivity attracts warmth,
yet I have stood in the sun
and still felt cold.
I keep living for a tomorrow
that has no date,
telling myself it will get better
as if repetition makes it true.
I talk more
to mask the silence,
silence that eats me daily
like a termite feeding on furniture.
I smile
to hide the quiet flood
behind my eyes.
I might break
any time soon,
but I must remain standing.
The storms grow shakier,
the winds stronger.
I ask the sky,
is this finally it?
I don’t know.
Perhaps I am lying to myself again,
whispering the same fragile promise,
like a prayer I barely believe;
Tomorrow will be better.
You stank, and poo was once revealed when pants were pulled in playing field. Hard round briquettes, quite dry, like dung with straw sun-hard and undigested.
All kinds of unkind taunts and silly songs were sung and rumour did the rounds of Traveller’s goings on in dog-bark fenced compound.
Nothing known, but always just suggested.
What were your meals in trailer park, beside the fields, beside the rec,
beside the school where boys all played you for the fool, and girls sang ‘stinky bum’, and parent’s day didn’t see your dad, and did you even have a mum?
You struck a chin full fist when foot deployed to halt your playground dinky toy. Your anger clearly boiled beneath. Did you every day recoil from father’s buckled belt, or older brother’s fist, or even mother’s wounding cuffs confined to caravan
on drizzle chilly days as autumn shed cold leaf?
You walked with ricket bandied legs, a waddled painful labour.
I too was your tormentor, on endless friendless days and lonely playground corners, and classes where the empty desk was always nearest neighbour.
Your white and skinny scabied form found true excuse from sports.
No one saw 'there', beneath your shabby shorts, except the school and nit nurse. We always thought your underpants were wet, or stained, or worse,
and most days did you even wear your soiled and threadbare underwear?
Would these older opened eyes now see you as a son?
Would softened heart now empathise with how you had begun
your life and realise the pain and strife that laid your path,
where mine was carefree fun?
These older eyes are sorry now, with memory’s regret.
But yet that child knew not the pain that surely comes to all,
and tempered hearts cannot relive the spring before the fall.
What's
better
than gold?
A heart of
gold and
any
golden
rule
Thus
donot
over the
mined
thing drool.
What's
better
than
pearls?
Any pearls
of wisdom
grant the
oyster
some
freedom!
What's
better
than
diamonds
Supernovas
that dazzle
like
them
So don't
you fret if
you can't
afford
the earthly
underground
gem.
What's
better
than
rubies?
Crimson
roses and
rosy lips
I do, and
maybe
you too
already
have them!
What's
better
than
emeralds?
Feline eyes
glowing in
the dark.
Ah Lord!
That
fluorescent
spark!
What's
better
than silver?
The hope
that every
cloud has
a silver
lining
Even
miners
they don't
enjoy the
mining.
What's better than amber?
Amber eyes shining like embers.
In God's design variety of
eyeball shades
Ah the licorice eyed maidens
and maids!
And whether it be
zircon or amethyst
Sapphire or lapis lazuli
Agate, opal or tanzanite
what tis far better
than all these gems put
together
is anyone known as 'a gem of
a person'.
For instance it's upto you
to transcend flesh and blood
and be a guiding star
for the transient travellers that
we are.
Heart ache, a road break off route sixty-six
Over each river and every state line
Tour bus travellers all finding their fix
Everyone hyphened is heightened this time
Lost luggage losing it's share of the light
American dreams with shutters pulled down
Memphis blues music feels alright tonight
Elvis themed runners surprising the town
Rocky road blue grass fades slowly away
In between cities and one horse places
Cocktail umbrellas recall brighter days
Appreciating these world weary faces
Neighbours, travellers, old lovers and friends
Ask for directions to where this tale ends.
2025.3.17
How true was it?
"A friend in need is a friend indeed"
T and I were friends for half a century.
Our friendship fell out three times over these years,
During our youth included our adulthood.
Each time, I honestly have not a clue
What had happened?
She remained extremely cold and distance.
After many attempts, I respected her decisions,
Just waited till she was ready to contact me.
Last time it happened in 2018.
Two years later, I met her brother,
He said she has been suffering
Depression after losing both parents.
Since then, I moved on with my life.
On year later, the person I cared for,
Succumbed to his terminal illness.
I needed her more than ever,
She still tackled with her mental health matter.
I moved on again.
Half a decade later,
I met BB, who introduced me
All the Firmware's Apps ,
To protect me from privacy issues.
When our friendship ended,
Most of the Apps he installed,
Started having troubles,
No one was able to fix them,
Because BB used very high IT Apps.
Within one year, I met Mr Loner,
Who travelled a lot.
He invited me a trip to Sydney with him,
At the time, I did not want it.
But something happened last week,
Prompted me to take a break with holiday.
However, the last time I travelled,
It was nearly two decades ago,
With the advancing technologies,
I have absolutely no idea,
What to do and how to book
The transport and accommodations.
Besides BB, T and Mr Loner were very frequent travellers.
One Overseas the other Australia.
But, did it matter?
They did not treat me as their friend,
For one good reason or another.
They were not there for me when I needed them.
I know they knew I knew,
I have been very good to them.
When they needed me, I was always there for them
That was exactly, what the saying meant
"A friend in need is a friend indeed".
I might be a loner but not a loser.
I have been and will always be a fighter and warrior.
Writers and poets are a different breed
They live and breathe phrases and concepts
Awash with all manner of clever speech
At engaging the reader, they're adept
They invite you on travels to distant lands
To discover strange customs and beliefs
To experience a whole new world apart
The Rain Forests, The Great Barrier Reef
Through the eyes of these intrepid travellers
We witness different morals and rituals
Experiences people wouldn't normally view
Many of which, are sacred and spiritual
Imagine if we didn't have these literary giants
To warn us of the mistakes of the past
The Great Depression, the two World Wars
How great nations through history never last
Writers and poets are a different breed
They focus on the ethereal side of being
Flying high above the horizons
In a world of unknown and unseeing
trying to sleep
take a simple nap
but the whirling
dervishes in my
mind won't stop
stomping or
dancing
and as i'm "one
who delights in all
manifestations of the
terpsichorean muse" my
memories remind me of a
time on the island of Thera
Greece where each of us to be
leaving the next morning
invited a friend who
invited a friend
and we all sat
down at the
psari (fish)
taverna
it was a regular U.N. of
travellers and back
packers and like
a meeting at
the Hague
we took
over
the place much to the
owner's happiness
as we ordered
and ate and
sated our
thirst
on
homemade Retsina
so much so that
we drank every
drop of what
was made
but even
a kiwi
pleaded
he'd drink
the dregs to
keep elated but
the owner was already
pouring thank you shots
of ouzo with many linguistic
cheers
he knew
what he was
going to do to
cheer his new
found friends for
with this the night
would end
with sudden
static sounds of
wires popping he
had plugged in an
electric bouzouki to
yells whoops and hollers
of broken
accents of
broken Greek
and English asking
turn the amp to eleven
and do you know any
Hendrix
Form:
VEILED
The future stood there, veiled
A neutral expression on its face
Showing its respect for the past
As the present didn’t even last
But hidden under the black lace
A smile for all that surely failed
It knew decisions would be made
Some succeeding, but others not
Noting all those lives still on track
Yet restricted to only looking back
Timing always perfect, on the dot
As the future, it must be obeyed
Few can ever see beyond the veil
Only guessing at their own future
The reality sure of its unique state
Yet alternative futures lay in wait
Dimensions sewn up with a suture
Only time travellers to tell the tale