On the ground or in the air,
People flock from here to there
And if they walk or bike or drive,
Eventually they’ll arrive.
Their journeys may be short or long,
Their need to travel weak or strong,
Yet everybody on the move
Succumbs, somehow, to travel’s groove.
For if they didn’t need to be
En route, they’d linger comfortably
Close by or in the hugs of home,
To read a book or write a poem.
Hi January
I miss you
ah, not you
but January. I miss May,
who smiled in the flower field
to the strains of the melancholic song
that played in my head at that time.
Hi May, let's go together again to January
so I can see you again
spinning merrily
among those swings.
Hello May
You will sit again by the North Sea
catching the tide
as I loved it.
And May,
walk again in the dim lights of the old city
with your steps in those white shoes
and I with the night drizzle,
admiring you then.
And now the drizzle is falling
Missing you again
In the alternating drizzle
Blue thou art; intensely blue;
Flower whence came thy dazzling hue?
__James Montgomery
Blue Flowers
Go places, get things done;
feeling orange, yellow, pink.
Going places soon, buying car.
Zoom…zoom…zoom.
Feeling mighty blessed, rest up.
Praying with fervor and speed;
Slowing down, listening to the Lord.
His house has a place for me.
This earth is not my home, however
I’m going places if He tarries, and if
it’s his will. Blue flowers, seen or unseen
set a glorious scene. I’m seen,
you’re seen…what will you do with
the next scene…zoom, zoom, rest;
be blessed, survive the test, be fruitful.
People, places, and things.
All of which catch my eye,
The world as I see it travel by.
People who catch my view.
Caught in pictures,
Expressions I knew.
Places of interest.
Seen while visiting,
Areas that tourist pass by.
Things that are new to me.
A medicine plant,
A building or two.
People, places, and things.
Some are real,
Some in my dreams.
Visit beautiful Michigan Avenue
The ‘Magnificent Mile’
See the teenage gangs at night
roaming ‘gangster-style’
Admire block after block on ‘the strip’
Madison Avenue, the Old West Side
burnt down by arson way back in 1968
embers still afloat – Don’t they smell great
Take a walk on the Wild Side
The South Side that once hosted Nat King Cole
Note the empty lots, broken glass and one-eyed cats
What a pleasure to take in all that…
Yes, dear friends, a trip to Chicago’s just the thing
Come to a town where crime is king
If I had wings or another source to fly
I was born to soar
The sky and I
Discover horizons and unknown distances
Never seen before
Surge among the high mountains
Observing below endless oceans, Lakes, Rivers, Water Falls and running streams
Through the Sun that brings warmth
Feeling the friendly breezes
Into the air to countries beyond America
Where language accents dwell
Senses of aroma where smell of enchanted puts one in a trance
Tasting the natural soil of the good Earth
Acquaint with like never before
As I wasn’t born with wings
There is another thing
Wings of a passenger jet
The best idea yet
Journeying far and wide
Where if I had wings won’t tire
Passenger jet recline back
Airliner style
Friendly skies
Opportunity wise
The taxi speeds down the highway
zig zagging to miss the potholes.
It slows as a horse and cart crosses,
followed by the owner's dog.
On the other carriageway people wait
hoping someone will give them a lift.
An old Cadillac smokes its way down the road.
In the town, buildings are like well-worn pairs of shoes –
they fit, still function but have seen better days.
But the people are well nourished, clothed and clean.
Smiles of genuine happiness are all around.
This is a country which lives to a different pulse -
Ché its heartbeat,
Fidel its lifeblood.
People are living the revolution where others have failed –
common wellbeing before personal gain,
society’s hallmark is equality and colour-blindness.
Educated and cultured, enjoyment is beyond the material.
Musical rhythms set the daily pace.
There is a determination to live and succeed despite hardship.
But is it only hardship when seen through Western eyes?
The freedom of spirit is to be admired.
But what does the future hold?
The greatest challenge is yet to come –
influx of other peoples from not so far away.
¡Cubana!
aboard the 71, about halfway down the left side
i sit facing forward, heart leaping as he embarks—
he’s on the way to the grocery store,
or his sister’s house,
or work, but he’s running late;
standing room only
he grabs a handle facing me.
he catches my eye and i his,
waves at me with all five fingers and
i wish to hold them in mine, trace
the outline of the bones in his hand,
look into his eyes deeply,
see what’s true;
two stops later, a seat opens up on the right—
one row ahead.
dark, curly hair.
i take measured glances,
don't stare don't draw unwanted attention.
i want his arms around me,
to look into his eyes some more.
he disembarks.
Whistle echoes in the tunnel
then smoke belches upwards
as the train halts at the platform
Disgorging its passengers
before porters offload baggage
Cases, trunks, sacks – all claimed
But no
There on the platform two suitcases
Side by side, travelling twins of no fixed abode
Ace of Spades on one, King of Hearts on the other
Unnoticed
Porters distracted as the cavalcade announces its arrival
Guard of honour, red carpet, bowed heads -
trappings of power and privilege
Gliding through the booking hall
onto the platform
Glancing left not right
Two suitcase stand forlorn
Something stirs within
in an instant, carnage
No train
No platform
No power
No privilege
The end of monarchy
The start of republic
Suitcase slaughter
Suitcase solution
A temporary resident
A place to lay their head
A quiet and peaceful moment
As words are being said.
Nights of darkness
The glowing of some lights
From night to daylight
Early morning rise, to a site.
On the road again
To make the best
On the road again
Faith, with being Blessed.
sea is turbulently stormy this darkened night
eyes watch in awe, wonder and fright
anchor secured holds passenger ship tight ~
When I'm cruising down the street,
I'm not boozing while I eat!
I don't waste my time on luck,
I put my faith in my truck!
Thru sleet and snowy weather,
Our thirty years together,
Outlasted all the others,
All my truck driving Brothers!
But nothing could be finer,
Parked near a local diner,
Than a truck driving Sister...
That's a "Truck Driver" Mister!
The bus is only practical
If you’re not in a hurry.
If time is of the essence,
Then your mind will fill with worry.
Aside from all the local stops,
The passengers board slowly
And don’t know how to swipe or tap –
Annoying! Holy moly!
A number are quite elderly,
While others come with strollers
Or luggage clogging up the aisle
Or shopping carts on rollers.
If you’re in luck, your driver
Will be practiced, moving fast,
But more likely he’ll be insecure,
Afraid of squeezing past
All the trucks and taxis double-parked
And blocking up the street.
You’ll sit there knowing you’ll be late
If someone you must meet.
It’s better on the subway,
Though, of course, it’s underground,
But it’s best if there’s a walking
Destination to be found.
As we travel on our journey
Life is not a bed of roses
While traveling on the way
You can smell the scent of roses
To make us more forceful
In doing what is good in life
Settling to overcome the fire
Reflecting life from within.
Being yourself
In a foreign land
Is to leave old shoes
And counterpane
Take a risk
Among new friends
To discover Earth
Through shared lens
Allow that light
To overwhelm
The journey forward
And back again
Specific Types of Travel Poems
Definition | What is Travel in Poetry?
Poems Related to Travel
adventure, biking, cruise, cruising, driving, excursion, expedition, flying, globe trotting, roam, sailing, seafaring, sightsee, sightseeing, tour, touring, traveling, trek, trekking, trip, vacation, voyage, voyaging, wander, wandering, wanderlust,