Wayward Poems - Poems about Wayward

Abandon the wayward ego

Cravings of lower mind repulse ~
Follow only the truth impulse
            ~ quote by poet


Ego but serves our body-mind
But we’re not this form, we’re not this 
Who we are is love, light and bliss

Pursuit of lust makes us unkind
Let not feral instincts prevail 
If we

Gifts of the Winter Witch

A venetian red yearling’s head
Pops up
From behind a fallen log
Licks rouge from its lips
And the syrup sipped from dark maple bark
Ears tweaking
To the snow-crunch creak
Of my dog and me approaching
From down the trail

Forest
Tamed by these trampled snow-winding paths

The deer doesn’t flinch

Up ahead
Top of the trash receptacle
Is aflutter with cardinals and sparrows

Though observed
The object has not

Wayward Son

Wayward son
lost in the maze 
of fleeting days
following a path
of wisping wind
and whipping flame,
a labyrinth 
of choices lost
in shadows,
seeking destiny
on shifting sands.

The Wayward West

There's a trail that takes you everywhere.
Just be patient, that trail will get you there.
Up ahead, there is the town of Everywhere, USA.
When I got there, there was nobody.
I wanted to know where there was action.
So there was nobody to ask.
Nobody said that it's down there in the center of town.
When I got there, there

WAYWARD SOLDIER THE WAR'S OVER-

Saw my heart beats passion Burns
soul denied heart is torn
Minefield would forgetfulness
Spirit filled with loneliness
How where will I go 
the last wayward soldier
 no longer going to war
 walking home to his wife and children
 the war is over

12/4/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023

A Wayward Wind Now Guides Me

Breaking my chains
    expanding horizons
  swerving past roadblocks
    escaping cages I once died in

  A wayward wind now guides me
    tousling my thinning hair
  Beads of sweat blind my conscience
    evaporate in nightmares 

  Landing softly on a riverbank

Tales of the Wayward Hero and His Life

Tales Of The Wayward Hero And His Life

Under the crispy crust was soil that sang right out of tune
its musical tastes, akin to the weather in late June
its melody came from a broken harp hiding upstairs
most of all the hero loved going to the state fair
with a torn raincoat on and a dear whiskey bottle

A Wayward Wind

I feel the wayward wind,
Whispering incessantly to me.
It comes unbidden but then
So many events come unbidden.
The wind promises me an afterlife,
It threatens death forthwith.
I dare to walk forward,
Meet my ultimate dreadful destiny
Be it sorrow or love
Success or mere defeat.
The path is etched too murky,
The horizon is masked in gloomy mist
Hidden from me with such painful

Wayward Mercy Grace-

Wayward so
Mercy held
Grace hold, God’s heart
Held is the soul
Holy of holies
Marcy’s grace Hallelujah



8/8/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©

Wayward Spirit

Wayward spirit.
If you love me 
Accept me for who I am
Am wayward they say 
Yes I am I can't deny it 
I can make you smile laugh out loud 
Yet I can also make you cry 
Cos am who I am
I learned in the hard way sometimes
Do you expect an angel from 
The ghetto
So am

Wayward Soul

Woeful wandering wayward soul
Hither-thither you go to a place
so lonely and cold

Dwelling and sometimes reveling in
a sunken place
Hither you go, leaving
a dark trace

Wandering and wavering, so capricious
Aimless and shift less, so pernicious

Traveling this plane
in search or maybe not
But during this course what
surely can be seen is pain

Rest wayward, soul, won't you?
Salient feeble eyes speak so

From the Virtuous Woman To the Wayward Women

FROM THE VIRTUOUS WOMAN
TO THE WAYWARD:

Excuse me...I'm moving on,
And I don't need your opinion,
To cast away the trust I'm leaning on.
You have life and choices you living on,
And I don't think of deciding for you,
Since you can't decide for me too.
But I will only accept your suggestions,
By placing them on tactful digestions.
We've both been fairly

Wayward Wanderer

Why does my soul not conform to the social standards that society and family set before me? As if I was written as a chapter of a different book and thrown amongst the scoffers. Or am I just a remnant of a time now lost, nestled in this body, in a forlorn attempt to find

The Human Rights of a Wayward Woman

Even if she were a whore
With a visible moral sore:
The licentious from her jaw,
Largely The Deprived or poor, 
A fool seeming to the core,
On all days A Bore  
But broke A Toothless Law,
You mustn’t her on paper draw, 
On her invective pour 
Nor bang on her door…

These, a raising of dust and more,
For The

Wayward-Thinking Lover

Once was a smart, forward-thinking young lady in Gloucester
Her wayward-thinking lover she summarily oustered
Since his libido he couldn’t control,
Ceremoniously, he had to go
And soon, thereafter, he became a carnival rouster.

written December 4, 2021

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