Wanderer Poems - Poems about Wanderer

The sky does not explain itself It simply opens. The wanderer... quiet with ash and memory Does not ask it to. For there is a wind that knows his name It never speaks it aloud. As together, they walk... Not forward, but further....

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There is a place he knows of rest it is a place in wooded mist and days of wandering in sorrow ways his broken heart returns this day she's waiting weeping by the door and cries his name her silent call her voice of whispers through tower of tree's like soft cloud leaves upon the breeze there's gentle rain on steps through out but...

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“When the heart breaks the trail of longing gets lost in the debris of its shards”- By Poet The sparkling dawn enwraps my heart with hues, spreads the sunburst luster of my yearning, paints golden garden in mind’s blank canvas, blooming with the patina of my love, unfurls buds of fervent facsimile of your astral floral face, I adore....

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Let the brief time be cast away, Let the movable thread be loosely handled, Let the shadow be cast on you, Let the water flow over the distant edges. But when you know you’ll never get the wanderer back, Even as you cast him off, When you tally the drifters, They’re all misplaced and undone. The Moirai will let him go, Because, you know, You...

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grey hush wind’s crush fog’s veil hearts pale black coat lost note thin light love’s blight back turned flames burned ...

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The Happy Wanderer I like to wander near and far. Just me and my little white car. There are treasures to be found everywhere. Just waiting to be discovered out there. Soon I saw a little mom and pop store. It was in a small house with a green door. I was greeted by a jolly little old man. He had a small...

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Survive or submit. It hits differently than it once did. When to submit simply meant to yield now but life to fight again. When to survive was waking up. That's it. No need for titles and ownership. No deeds to the bits and pieces chipped from the spoils of everyone else's grit. Such a sweet-seeking world has left holes in our teeth. I wander....

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In tranquil depths, the sea turtle glides, Ancient traveler where the ocean hides. With a shell like armor, so strong and wise, She dances through currents, beneath the wide skies. A journey of miles, through coral and foam, In the heart of the sea, she finds her home. Graceful and patient,...

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Wanderer Life Live like a wanderer is a gift from Life A noble award and merit from wildlife Our fortune is our sad fate, one kind We want life, not the destruction of war We want air, not pollution and grime We want nature, not dead ground dust … and we needed love Almost all the wanderers live without love This is a reason...

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Old Friend Yesterday taken a walk in Fryent Country Park, a heart of nature Landscapes, ponds, trees, bushes, fields, forests, great shoots My camera cried with joy, I often wiped the lenses, wide-angle Yes, the winter weather was so friendly, the fresh air gave me thoughts Just walk and walk, the wonder of nature here always changes me New ideas, and...

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The Wanderer, Part III The wise man contemplates these ruins, considers this dark life soberly, remembers the blood spilled here in multitudes of battles, then says: “Where is the horse now? Where, its riders? Where, the givers of gifts & treasure, the gold-friend? Where, the banquet-seats? Where, the mead-halls’ friendly uproars? Gone, the bright cup! Gone, the mailed warrior! Gone, the glory of princes!...

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The Wanderer, Part II Awakening, the friendless man confronts the murky waves, the seabirds bathing, broadening out their feathers, the hoar-frost, harrowing hail & snow eternally falling… Then his heart’s wounds seem all the heavier for the loss of his beloved lord. Thus his sorrow is renewed, remembrance of his lost kinsmen troubles his mind, & he greets their ghosts with exclamations...

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The Wyrdes were like the Fates, controlling human destinies. The Wanderer ancient Anglo-Saxon poem translation by Michael R. Burch “The one who wanders alone longs for mercy, longs for grace, knowing he must yet traverse the whale-path’s rime-cold waters, stirring the waves with his hands & oars, heartsick & troubled in spirit, always bending his back to his exile-ways.” “Fate is inexorable.” Thus spoke the wanderer, mindful...

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a restless heart untethered and free wanders the world seeking its true love with every beat it longs to find the key to unlock the passion it’s dreaming of it drifts through cities and barren lands searching for someone to understand the depth of its ache the tremble in hands the pull of desire like sinking quicksand one day it meets a kindred...

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The true wanderer walks to the four corners and doesn't even feel time passing...could he be time itself...? ...

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