Signpost Poems | Examples

Zig-zag

Zig-zag, zig-zag, what’s coming next?
Just corners, twists and bumps, 
No glimpse, no signposted clear path,
Just loads of holes and humps.

Day after day, just up and down
And twisting round and round,
No indication anywhere
Of where the end is found.

So much of life zig-zags around
Surprising frights and fears,
Uncertainties, anxieties,
And even desperate tears.

But stop! Just look! A bright new light,
With path so plain displayed.
And there’s a sign, a lovely sign, 
So clear, ‘This is the Way!’

Jesus there is always waiting.
Yes, he alone’s the Way,
Troubles he turns to singing,
Transforms the worst of days! 

Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”  John 14:6.

haiku- Christmas star

a super bright fixed star
the signpost light stream to show
a miracle birth

My First Ever Poem

Down a grassy lane,
I trudged beneath pale blue skies,
a rambling spirit,
vivid scenic hues a spur,
to a literary verse

Images abound,
for me to seize and savour,
in a magic whirl,
or vortex as I ponder,
shrouds of verdant silhouettes

Hedges, bird shrieks, rocks,
taunt and tease wide awake eyes,
stirring cues unfold,
lavish signpost for lush mindd,
creative deft scroll then poised

Downward Plod I chose,
as title of lines scribbled,
for my first poem,
whose birth meandered footprint,
a release for budding pen

the streets

Sun on the ground, warm on the bottom. 
Heat from the bricks. 
In that moment troubles forgotten.

Winter rain brings misery, soaked to the bone.
nothing dries, you still cry.
Never felt so alone.

Stranger propositions make you feel as worthless as can be.
Sins a plenty offered.
Can anything be sold for a fee?

The kindness of strangers is not always what it seems.
A price never expected to pay. 
but you say you're living the dream.

Let me be your helping hand, clarity and scope.
The signpost and navigator.
The warm embrace of hope.

A signpost

This

Is nothing

Says a signpost..

Ending the search

Or not..either story

Is already 

This...

The Day I Reach The Last Mile -Mixed

1
In wandering life’s ever-changing dynamic landscape, 
the paved pathway across the undulating topography
meanders to the nebulous future in time taking turns,
I have to traverse following the footprints of destiny.

The sinking spent sun in the cauldron of my crimson sky
paints the time of the vibrant life passing slowly me by.
The dust-draped horizon spreads uncertainty shroud,
for the ambiguous obscurity conceals the blurred future.

In twilight hour the sky would create a collage of colors,
weave for me the panorama for the penultimate walk.
I’d stand at the signpost of the last mile of my journey,
and wonder what lies at the end of the ordained path.

Many streams I’d remember to have crossed in squall 
with budding desires sheltered in heart lest they’d sink,
while the winged dreams drifted away chasing butterflies,
flittering through amorous air in the verdant vale of love.

I’d indifferently count the footsteps of the ultimate trek,
fated to reach the final destination of devouring darkness,
the sighing wind would convey the beginning of the end,
as I’d take the reluctant first step to walk the last mile.

Quietly We Trudge

The mind is a traveller,
on an earnest quest apart,
link road to the innermost,
signpost for bold  hunch,
meaning is a hazy sky,
lay-by as mere pause,
quietly we trudge in  tight bands,
but never wonder why?
time doesn’t play that  well,
showing few if any paths,
language can be strained,
notions, slants, angles, terms,
tangled oxymoron at risk,
stifling broad consensus,
world weary air a plague,
night shift, day shift,
life belt for the toiler,
spoken in camp phrases,
that spur to  vocal fringe,
who might alter vacuums,
now passively endured

Hub On Wings

City hub on wings
apogee of ultra bright
fire within urban comet
tangerine signpost
to future halcyon spot
amidst buoyant step onrush

Bouncy castle perk
spurs avid market stall pitch
bargain in a jiffy bag
loophole hatched off-curb
brainwave surge from genie flash
to everyone’s benefit

Silver winter tinged
trees and wet overcast skies
never dampen township verve
that heartland zeitgeist
typical of boom and bloom
day or night march on dweller

Sweep off feet vision
endemic to rapid shifts
where marvel woos miracle
in heady cocktail
at the cutting-edge hubbub
point of entry upbeat frame

Descartes' Rule of Signs

I. Noise in an empty hallway:
My old leather shoes protest as I hurry down the linoleum tiles
Like I'm wearing a little piece of history older than I am.

II. Headlights on a dark road:
Speeding down narrow country roads
windows rolled down and Autumn wind rushing through the car
Ripping my hair from its tie
My arm stretching out the window, numb in the night air.

III. Ephemeral beauty:
For a moment, life is endless and incredibly brief
Stretching before me like a dusty trail at sunset
Disappearing into the trees.

IV. Origin of life:
There is this vague, unnamable incomprehension in my chest
Like euphemisms, that is the easy way out
This is the hard way: I am alive, alive, alive
When one cell became thirty trillion, I gained consciousness.

V. I am not the sum of my parts:
I don't have the faith to believe 
That all my thirty trillion cells are a fluke of nature

VI. Evidence: 
I am the proof of divinity's existence
A signpost shouting "I am alive" thirty trillion times with all the power of my lungs 
Designed for miracles

VII. Rene Descartes:
It is not 
I think; therefore, I am
It is
I think; therefore, He is.

Blurred Anaemic Edge

The urge to travel,
to spread your wings and fly away,
never rooted to one spot.
never spotted on  a route.
signpost now defunct,
map a feeble pointer,
direction only by one’s nose.
Intuition in ascendence,
as day and night blur anaemic edges.
Fleet of foot dream chaser,
never-ending sequence,
is chaotically just that.
Event foreman cast,
in a starry-eyed plot,
script writer of their own unique journey,
stagecoach vagrant from,
a who-knows-where platform,
speed bump skipper on a blind course,
taking the "lie" of the land.
In every sense a false scents,
trailblazer has a life of their own,
but tragically a life that both owns,
and disowns them in "equal" measure.
Time-lapse photographer flagged,
by ephemera but doesn't notice,
loop by loop square off,
under amber moonlight passage.
faraway green seeker,
bereft of halting site,
with no stop off in between,
momentum the only resting place

September Telltale Whisper

Autumn, a time for reflections on reflections,
and they are rife, linked to pearly grey sky,
lake, puddle, mud strewn path or no,
while  each steep cliff face boldly juts, 
sheer defiance without  concession or a budge,
through jagged edge loadstone chipping,
as the chilling froth-tipped sea mounts its saline tumult, irrespective of an iron cast continuing rebuttal.
One can pass the baton to u turn so turbulent,
within our mental recess at end of summer phase.
September signpost deigns to whisper,
of a scenic telltale hint and tint,
this somber colour gloss  an imposition on July,
sunburst relish, such  a sullen flashback,
 amid the garden suite indigo plot,
 beyond a purposeful utopian expanse,
which every avid green-fingered artisan must doff,
their pale straw rimmed hat to, 
that transit between seasons, annual curtain drop,
awash with predetermined wish fulfilment, 
glow upon each glitter that sparks our child,
 eternal down the ages,
somehow yet  an underlying dread  might spoil
 or pamper,
in such icicle entanglement so wicked in its frozen mosaic, 
chase indelible precursor now more than ever so inevitable.

Farewell

Though we go different ways filled with surprise
hold your memories close, as life is in spin
for our days were kept with laughter's guise
the days and nights may flow this way again
journeys we traveled will now become past
yet wisdom was gained by a friendship found
the knowledge we gained will forever last
and the times we shared are now sacred ground
take care, my friend, and let honor compel
many will come to steal away your soul
and make sure truth is where your heart will dwell
stay true to your signpost with self-control
 climb every mountain, and drink from life's well
 live with compassion, as I say farewell

6/30/22
contest Farewell Theme
sponsor Lisa YY

Only Death Goes Round

Landlords are in the cemetery
Welcoming new comers as host
Who ain't any more dietary
Cos it isn't duly of ghost 
Either to chance or grace do toast
But rather await fate's bread spell
Which can't deny its running coast
To be serve in heaven or Hell

Death is no doubt hereditary
Which doesn't matter earthly post
Let alone fear how dignitary
Or honor office life's signpost
Who often by their power do toast
But won't be bailed out of its cell
Even in healthcare when diagnosed
To be serve in heaven or hell

Though be it cum death's solitary 
Whose power create fear in almost
All humans unlike military
Except Jesus the uppermost 
Before death though not the utmost 
But beings may heart his great farewell
Of  sacrifice badge cum his death boast
To be serve in heaven or hell

Ask Jesus of how death pains ghost?
Speaking well of it won't help shell
The peace its call in pain engrossed
To be serve in heaven or hell

Exxon At the Edge of Arcadia

Strange signpost of circling destiny - an Exxon station,
perched at the crossroads of State Highway 95
and Farm to Market Road 1331.
Almost certainly without its own knowledge
serving as the gateway to Arcadia.

Where life may be older in the body, but boasts youth eternal
in the mind, heart, and soul.
Where power, prestige, and wealth all wither away
in the soft sunshine of familial love.

Strange paradox that from the sunbeams of a quiet Czech church
may come the vital fuel to power an engineer's heart
in the midst of the sparkling glass
of a city that never knows silence.

For now, I am not sure whether I borrow from paradise 
to vainly chase its specter -
or whether I borrow from one ideal to build another
which may not be entirely worse ...

though there is no denying that it is different.

There may be pains in Arcadia, though they seem so far away
to this weary man on a late spring day.

8 May 2022

Tinsel Cloud Asylum

All-seeing eye peers into space,
ether or escape hatch from the chase.
Blue sky peachy-keen hypnotic  envelope,
image ridden flight a mind game telescope.
Fantasy abounds where sunshine always reigns,
blissful  muses dash through fast lanes.
Fools gold rainbow haven just another wishing well,
signpost to utopia some distant dark art hell.
Angelic cloud silken float zenith,
ornamental  star-gazer’s supernatural tenet.

Date posted ; 25th March 2022

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