Long Wanderer Poems
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In the twilight of existence, where shadows whisper secrets to the restless soul,
Man seeks to escape himself in myth, weaving tales to hide his truth,
By any means at his disposal, he dances on the edge of oblivion,
Drugs, alcohol, or lies, each a mask to hide the fragile self within.
Unable to withdraw into the depths of his being, he disguises himself,
Crafting stories and illusions, each a fleeting sanctuary from the storm,
Lies and inaccuracies, like gentle lullabies, give him a few moments of comfort,
In the flux of consciousness, where thoughts flow and ebb like an eternal tide.
In this river of dreams, I see him, a wanderer lost in the labyrinth of his own mind,
Seeking solace in the myths he creates, a painter of unseen realities,
His heart, a canvas of longing, each stroke a metaphor for escape,
And I, a silent observer, am drawn into the melancholic magic of his journey.
He walks through the corridors of memory, each step a whisper of forgotten hopes,
The shadows of his past intertwine with the light of his aspirations,
In the depths of his despair, he finds an appearance of peace,
A fleeting mirage in the desert of his existence, where lies and truth converge.
In the darkened corners of his mind, the myths take on a life of their own,
Each a beacon of false hope, a star in the night of his solitude,
He clings to them, these fragile constructs, like a sailor to a sinking ship,
In the endless sea of his thoughts, where reality and illusion blend.
Through the haze of his deceptions, a fleeting clarity emerges,
A moment of truth, like a fleeting comet in the vastness of his mind,
He sees himself, unmasked and raw, a soul stripped of disguises,
And in that moment, the melancholic magic of existence reveals its true face.
But the moment passes, as all moments do, and he returns to his myths,
Comforted by the lies that shield him from the harsh light of reality,
In the flux of consciousness, where each thought is a wave in an endless ocean,
He finds solace, peace, in the myths that allow him to escape himself.
And so, in the twilight of existence, where shadows and light intertwine,
Man continues his dance, a seeker of myths, a creator of illusions,
In the melancholic magic of his journey, he finds the strength to endure,
A wanderer in the labyrinth of his own mind, forever searching for the elusive truth.
Fragrant magick candlelight flickers hot,
blue, red flame stimulating sparks bind hands.
Tame harmony remains. "Love." While love awakes
a wanderer of my emboldened heart;
gentle wind meander blows, and gusts oppose.
I discern your quintessence in the breeze
emerging out of dust of dry humble ground
from I was formed ... a fleeting glance into
colorfulness night; for our love rhymes
of aged mirth; our unconditional surrendered
love eclipse with flickering light while honey
sips our lips. Bound by love and devotion
my soul embraces you …you cradle me close
a thirst to be near for all eternity.
A dwelling among this vessel knowing
that you are in me and I in you
bathing in the afterglow of sunset
under heavens studded with bright stars.
11/29/2019
Poetry Contest: Love Me Like You Mean It
Sponsored by: Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
magick
NOUN
archaic spelling of magic.
A poem by me
You can take the breathe from my body. You can have my soul ripped open wide. You can have my mind, the wanderer it is. You can have this hand to hold. You can hold the very essence of my being in the palm of your hand. Do with me what you wish. I offer myself to you as nothing more or less than who I am. Down to my very core I am yours. Feel my heart beat in this box with your name upon its lid. Forever I will be a part of you, and you always a part of me. I lay here bare, naked. With wrists torn open bleeding for you. You are my soul, my heart outside my body. I give you all I am and ever will be without hesitation. You have won me. A war long fought. You turned a cold damaged soul into a bleeding heart. I give you all I am. Scars and all.
(To the tune of “The Happy Wanderer)
I love to go a-wandering, along the mountain track
And as I ride I pedal hard, my paniers on the back
Val-da-ree, val-da-rah,
Val-da-rah, val-da-rah ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Val-da-ree, val-da-rah,
My paniers on the back
I like to reach the summit, thought the effort makes me frown.
I must confess I much prefer to free-wheel coming down
Val-da-ree, val-da-rah,
Val-da-rah, val-da-rah ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Val-da-ree, val-da-rah,
My paniers on the back
One day I saw a pretty girl whose bike had broken down.
I sat her on my cross-bar and I took her back to town
Val-da-ree, val-da-rah,
Val-da-rah, val-da-rah ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Val-da-ree, val-da-rah,
My paniers on the back
Next day I bought a ta-an-dem, a cycle made for two.
Now, when I go a-cycling, she’s always with me too.
Val-da-ree, val-da-rah,
Val-da-rah, val-da-rah ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Val-da-ree, val-da-rah,
My partner on the back
In the event of that morning
The allures of the luring lulling yellows rays
A caress of the beam that lit lucid
I was not another day
So it was in a ponder and wonder
A day dragged into a trap of make
Such a rare feel it was
A faint distant thought did flicker
A nag?
A tickle?
Piercing prod mind wade
It came like a trod trotting horse invade conquer
A rare weird thought did deem
Triggered into a stagger
Breaking abruptly as it had started
It was the garment touch feelin’
And that what I was thinking then
A friend like a garment can be
And so in the feel woolly wholly perhaps
Or like a lulling sun beam when sky is yellow
Whichever that rides toll rule
In a muse like a deem
Let loose flood existent domain maim
That a friend is only but a friend in rule
And if that the footprint consistent pasted
Somewhere on a bough
Or a pretence of an Isenberg atop
The vision of an eagle fix in time stream in replay
There below waylay
a track of moments and events rehearse intent
Many paths culminating into one
A mouth of a river a hub so say
Here like one on a bough bow lay
There are a million and one clips in play
Atop this anthill is a diversion into me
An intermittent printing on this plane of being
Comes to me prints of history
Coming into me
I am coming into my self
All this point to me the past in making
The bricks in time lay
Not in haste retrieve past memoirs cherish
But a muse in nostalgia marvel
The life that is and becoming...
I once heard her say, "I don't know why I am here". I suspect the best advice on any given day would be, "Just bid Him have His say regardless of what comes your way". Were it up to her, she would quickly say, "Nay, this is no longer the place for me to stay". So like a wanderer from across the sea, she now sits at the dock of the bay. She's weak, worn, and frail, but not without a family who cares. At times she sits in an easy chair and stares, feeling there's nothing left for her to do in this life. She's 97 and wonders why she is still here. She's had a good and fulfilling life, and of death, she has no fear, but she still wonders why she is here. All things being equal, she knows her call to heaven is drawing near, and that angelic call to her eternal home is really all she's waiting to hear. But for now, only heaven knows why she is still here.
111219PS
“we look for that light eternal
that does not come and go
the screen upon which life plays
cognised in staid stillness slow” ~ Unseeking Seeker
I flow like silken ripples
through mirrored lakes,
a lotus sprouting from
mountain streams,
soaked in the saffron
warmth of summer’s flare,
jeweled in citrine pearls of purity.
Awaiting galaxies of clarity
to unveil an emerald estuary,
streaming in sizzling serenity,
oblivious to the searing strings
of fickle tethers pulling
this delicate psyche
toward an abyss filled
with superficial scraps,
fragmented dreams,
and empty conch shells,
tearing my fragile skin
with splinters and sea glass,
reflecting the inflated ego
of a wanderer adrift
amidst ferocious tides.
O sacred skies,
adorned with starry scars,
I’ve long searched in vain
through a salt-soaked
cave of confusion
for twirling diamonds
and fragrant fireworks
to grant me an eternal
haven of celestial calligraphy
carved in halcyon ink,
unaware of the silver flecks
sparkling deep within my soul.
Must I forever be lost,
like languid leaves
pressed between chapters
of seasonal souvenirs,
or should I rise like
a mythical bird,
engrossed in golden musings,
a tameless seeker
of zestful zephyrs?
I am softened
streaks of twilight,
breathing ethereal dust,
while dancing to
the swirling silhouettes
above cosmic candles,
illuminating the orchid
orchard of consciousness,
as this heart beats to
the blissful rhythm
of an untouched breeze,
curating magnetic alchemy,
to harmonize inner music
in mellifluous mindfulness.
I am the light that
lights all the lights,
the undying glow
within supernova lanterns.
I am the artist
painting my own paradise,
immersed in topaz tunes
of an Elysian empire,
where divine scriptures
of the Almighty
conduct a choir
of continuous compassion.
So let the gates of your gaze
rest in singing silence,
listen to the unspoken reality,
echoing like tranquil rhymes
within a sonnet etched from
mystical moonbeams,
for between these lines~
floats the lunar wings,
manifesting a rosier awakening,
as my faith is the conqueror
of crystalline constellations,
forever basking in the euphoric glory
of tulsi dawn.
"When tomorrow comes and I'm again with you,
I'll stand on your feet while we dance forever."
Quote _ by poet
Yesterday seasons waved goodbye
as we listened to sounds of joy.
Spacious skies ever made anew
from sincere blue to jealous green.
Crosswise threads wind and hours drew nights
penciled footsteps patterns drew faint.
A wanderer of aged mirth, glean
quintessence love set forever.
Underneath sun amorous view
sweet golden years, not a goodbye.
You and I, unfinished garden
of poetic dreams and romance.
My love, my being still feels your
touch and hear your whispers of love.
3/28/2022
Form L - Lay - New Poetry Contest 2. Romance
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Born in a radioactive life with few friends
Rejected from a place he never felt was home
He finds himself stranded and alone
His eyes blinded by the sun
Armed with only a baseball bat and a empty gun
The world tears at him with hungry jaws
A scorched world with cold hearts and no law
Attacked by raider, robots, and death claws
The dusty capital wasteland he roams
Scavenging the ruins of a desolate world
Super mutants appear around every turn
The lone wanderer finds a flamethrower and makes them burn
Their collection of mutilated organs make him want to hurl
Searching for his father and food for the day
The lone wanderer hopes and prays
Revelation 21:6 I am alpha and omega the beginning and the end
Bloody footprints mark where the lone wanders has been
Scars mark his wounded heart and are etched in his skin
Favoring a shock sword and a 44 magnum
Custom armor most wastelanders couldn't fathom
The lone wanderer carries the maximum
Sailed to point lookout and thrown in the pit
The cruel wasteland tests his grit
Abducted by creatures from outer space
A life of haste, rugged is the beard on his face
GNR radio keeps him company
The lone wanderer runs about while feeling funky
Finally he found his father
Together, Persuing a righteous goal ever further
Only to die a martyr, his death hits the lone wanderer ever harder
The lone wanderer's wrath! Awakening rage
A vengeful path, darkening days
Kicked out of Jefferson's memorial
The enclave takes over, creating total turmoil in the purifier
With no time to prepare a funeral for his father
The lone wanderer grabs 'Vengeance' the ultimate vaporizer
On his way to vault 86 to find the legendary kit of Eden
The lone wanderer lays waste to many a demons
Troubled by the loss of his best friend,
His rampage across the wasteland begins
I am not lost, I am just wandering
through this forest of words and lines
leading me into unknown places
and times long forgotten.
I am a wanderer, a traveler,
a seeker of beauty and truth.
I follow the call of my heart,
the whisper of my soul.
I am not afraid to get lost
within the tangled web of life.
It is then that I find my way
in those moments of wandering.
I allow my feet to take me wherever,
my heart guides me through the night.
At the uprise of the morning sun,
I'll be ready for a new delight.
The world is full of wonderful things,
and I want to see them all.
From towering mountains to endless seas,
No sight's too great or too small.
So let me wander, let me roam
to lands so far away and shores unseen.
In these journeys is my heart free
And my spirit soars high and clean.
And when I am old and grey,
and wanderings no more.
Memories then to comfort me,
my heart once more to soar.
For wanderlust can never be cured,
a constant flame of fire,
a song within, that cries inside,
longing, some impossible desire.