Roaming Poems

Roaming scent of gardenia

delicate as a whisper in the night



AP: 1st place 2025

Clouds II

Inkblot animals
migrating across the sky
tirelessly roaming

Roaming Romance

Flow of warm drops from my eyes in winters,
Might be a sign that my eyes are drying.
If love is a sin, I'm among sinners,
Might be a sign that it's alone crying.
My mistake was to dive into her eyes,
And there is no way to go back to death.
I confirmed my death in the sea of lies,
No more drowning and no hustle for breath.
A normal life was not enough for me,
So, conferred my soul to love and romance.
A mad man imaging story with thee,
So there does not remain any regrance.
When my eyes are red and sky is all black,
Then there is no chance of moon going back.

The Roaming Eye

In NYC where cardboard boxes and bums come from
In the comfort of his brown paper home
The smelly old man sleeps on a concrete ground of cold
Snores alone like a train in heat
Unaware of his left eye detaching to leave
A vacancy sign behind the socket is left, not worth reading

An eye rolling down the highway is strange          
Pretending to be a traffic signal is suspicious
Blinking green then yellow is clearly disgusting 
Disguised in red makes it downright criminal
Obscene and not very nice indeed 

Children want to play marbles
The eye is wiser than you think
Seeing everything through a glass darkly
As it rolls away smartly unseen

roaming into the past - Ephemera

I like roaming thrift stores
full of worthless things
lost treasures that I can hold
within my hands and mind
capturing a time gone
for a pretty hand painted cup
a collectible or a relic from the past

I love the old dishes
what stories they could tell
I imagine their history
oh, I could write a poem about old dishes

things from times long passed
inspire me to hold a treasure for a moment
I do not have to own it
to capture it with my thoughts and pen
but oh dear the vintage jewelry is my weakness
how can I touch it with my hand
and not own it, how, and I always wonder who did

a visit to the thrift store is quite inspiring
but I best write it down because it is fleeting

Halloween Roaming

 

They have been waiting for Halloween,
for when the dead, zombies and such can be seen;
some walk oddly- and to one side they careen,
their decaying bones a disturbing moss green !

And here come the vampires to walk with us,
sometimes, these blood suckers even take the bus;
they serve no real purpose- quite useless and superfluous,
I am not afraid of them cause' I am no wuss !

I have seen skeletons walking with rags tattered,
some missing bones and looking battered;
they do not stay together but quickly are scattered,
they are spotted with dirt and mud splattered !

They all walk among us, the living, in the moonlight,
people look at them and run away at the sight;
but, Halloween night is their sublime delight,
roaming till dawn- then gone till next Halloween night !

Roaming Tabletop

roaming tabletop 
persian’s taste for dainty things
the french-pressed coffee
soft black fur prowling tea cups
be careful kitty, it’s hot

Gray Clouds Roaming

I hear a rustling in the leaves
 As the wind huffs and heaves
 A storm is coming ever near
 A rustling in the leaves I hear

 Gray clouds roam across the sky
  Some leaves swirl up on high
 Thunder rumbles in the dome
 Across the sky gray clouds roam

 The rain will fall for a while
 And make the land more fertile
 Flowers seem to love it all
 For a while the rain will fall

 A rainbow shows its many hues
 As the sky regains its blues
 A pot of gold are at the end of those
 Its many hues a rainbow shows

 9-7-2022

The Chalice of Night

The Chalice of Night pours dark on the stair
drops of shadows that don't belong there.
Echoes of footsteps--do they signal harm?
Whispers in bushes that push our alarm.

We know spirits like to do their roaming
in quiet darkness or amid murky gloaming.
We feel their breath as it tickles our ear;
murmuring softly, they arouse more fear.

Walking alone on a deserted lane
in dark night, footfalls I cannot explain.
Is that just a bush, or something unknown?
can it be paper, or a silk kerchief shown?

Reading alone by mere lamp flame,
I hear someone whisper my name.
A step on the stair, a brush of air,
I wonder if Night is creeping in there.

At night, it's best to sit outside by fire,
gaze at stars' wonder to our heart's desire.
Release our dark fears to nightfall instead,
and leave expired mortals entirely dead!

January 19, 2022

Roaming Thoughts

In the darkened twilight
My thoughts roam.
Even tho i bleed the same color,
Cry the same salty tears,
my appearance to some is different,
And yet, thought of as less than....
Educated by the same system,
Speaking the same language,
And yet, you still don't hear me.

With naked eyes, I see clearly,
As your blinders make you believe
You see all..... You know all;
Your politics
Your religion
Your social status,
And yet, 
can you tell me in your knowing,
What it is to be truly human ?
What it is to be truly civilized ?
Does your religion explain any of that,
Does your politics tell you what to believe ?

In the darkened twilight
My thoughts roam,
As I work myself back home....

Roaming In Nature

                        Oh, I just like to roam,
            into a forest hued with green;
  where the trees have created a roof dome,
  and I can breath air that is fresh and clean.
                        Beyond is a blue sky,
  where a thousand wild birds gracefully fly,
  then, land in the lush trees to rest and sigh.
      I love flowers,
              and can wander for long hours;
                        where foliage towers.
  There is a magic in the rich dark loam,
  that make the vines tangle between;
      the trees nearby,
  breathtaking after those sudden showers.
____________________
August 11, 2020


Poetry/Rhyme/Roaming in Nature
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1277-124-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France


Written for the contest, Nature Rhyming Poetry
sponsor, Brenda Chiri

First Place

Roaming

I
What weather will welcome roaming?
Any, if it's sunny, she says
Off they go, Thomas Hardy tales recalling ...
Roaming the veld, let me count the ways -

II
If we were cattle, we would range
If we were bandits we would rove -
No roots in "Rome," that's strange?
R O A M, it's a word for today, by Jove!

III
Students would read the root word is "roven"
Way back from 1300, Middle English, I'd say
A word, if attended, becomes like one chosen
Revealing history while "rambling" today

Roaming In the Gloaming

Although we're isolated in our homes
We still take leisurely drives in the gloamin'
Absolutely no contact
It's in the contract
No matter how far away from home we roam

Roaming the Sky

Chased by the playful winds

frightened clouds are roaming the sky


while


the blooming fields are watching them

as they hurriedly pass by!  









© Demetrios Trifiatis
      21 March 2020

Roaming

Scathing sheaves of love diverge endlessly,
O, yet I propound to despair of simplicity,
While watching the loving dances to jive,
Beneath dew resolute to heartbreak survive.

I climb above wintry storms into the Pagan realms,
Holding the torches of burning desire, 
Looking for a cure to sweep me away,
Away from this heartburn and the embers of fire.

Roam I under the shields, clipping the wings
Of grandeur as obsolete as insignificance set forth,
Roam under the Roman skies, full of heavenly strings, 
In a vessel of circumstance, happily heading up north.

The Paschal lamb offered to appease,
On a mountain lofty and noble I stand,
Please let me feel the wind’s breeze
In freedom exiled, not yet banned.

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