My uncle the world traveler.
Wise and eccentric as he may be.
Always a story to tell.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
shed fur from a silver unicorn is imperative for my potion
must be from an older seasoned unicorn, a world traveler
without this, the elixir will not give clairaudience to the drinker.
I also beg you to help me locate a seed from a baby boo pumpkin
I know it will not be easy, but easy does not enter into this equation
the drinker needs autumn emotions provided by this baby boo seed
so he can anticipate and appreciate winter
It was four am when I entered Colorado Springs Airport. Darkness of the sky was kissing the lips on the face of the mountain. Right around sunrise after I had my morning cappuccino I saw the sight that would speak to my mind and heart. The words came from Pikes Peak. The mountain was red and looked like the flesh of my Red ancestors. A cloud was coming from the mountain in a grey color. I kept thinking of Chief Red Cloud and Chief Crazy Horse on how they lived and wondered what the last thoughts they had before entering into the spirit world. No rain was there, and it would not be until the plane would leave for me to travel to Atlanta and then to the Old World.
I could hear the mountain speaking to my spirit. I was in awe, but in fear of my life. I was making a change that would affect me for the rest of my life. I heard music in the background that I would later come to know as Novis by Santana and Placido Domingo.
After seeing the photo of my plane taking off from my mom, I realized that this plane was the missile (mi-sigh-al) that would change my spirit. It sure did as I am now a world traveler. I have not fear of the air.
I’ve travelled the world
Inside a tin can
Nearly even drowned
Several times and
I’ve seen many things.
I’ve paid no fare
Nor bought tickets
It was all free
And I loved it.
Though I was
Not loved by
Anyone.
I am
Just a
Bug.
I am good today
Things are busy
Classes are a little frustrating
But generally good.
How about you my friends?
Do you have any hobbies?
What are they?
I would like to be a great lover
I want to live in my poetry forever
I would like to be world traveler
I want to be a good friend
I want to talk to the world
I don't want to be
The End...
[Please note: I wrote this as it is important to see reality from the point of view of the virus as nature does not exist for our benefit, but has its own purposes.]
I come on the wind,
or in a jet if I must,
for distance, borders,
mean nothing to me--
I will infect you
and turn you into dust
wherever you may flee,
for I am a world traveler,
after all, you see....
And I am arbitrary--
so fickle!
Some of you I will kill,
but most I'll just make ill,
my thrill!
I'm invisible to your eye,
and I don't care much
if you wail, or just sigh,
I have to live too,
don't I?
So fear what you can't see,
for that is me--
your pride got too big
so my ma, Nature,
is gonna make you dig--
for a cure, for a hope,
or else for a grave.
Now don't be a dope,
you ain't no gods,
don't fight the odds--
you wanna live,
and so do I.
As birds do in the serenity and majesty of sunset skies,
Some lose their inherent passion to roam.
So, we danced amid candlelight and the fireflies;
We did so when Harry came home.
His European adventure at an end,
After searching, after seeking hither and yon,
World traveler with a homeward trend,
At ease with shiny wood, pastel chiffon.
When Harry came home, the bees were hummin'
And butterflies floated lazily by;
When Harry came, guitars were strummin'
In the sultry heat of hot July.
When Harry came, he gave a hoot,
And swept me off my feet!
When Harry came home, the orchard was in fruit,
And honey was so sweet.
When Harry came home, time stood still
As he paused upon the stair;
When Harry came, whippoorwill,
And all was sunshine and fair.
walking into
the lobby of
my doctor's
office
wearing a t
shirt that reads
Vegetative State
Athletic Dept.
becoming one
with the crowd
realizing how
i'm just one
of the crowd
magna cum laude
world traveler now
postal worker of
course what else
could i be other
than just another
nut that has
rolled far from
the family tree
The tide
Rolling in
Upon the shores
An old world traveler
Ancient.
Flowing river of silver light; play your eternal song.
World traveler on a mission; quench the thirst of many souls.
Endearing river, sign your name upon this aging, sun parched Earth.
Symptoms are not who I am
Disease is not my name
Medication is not your fix-it-up
And treatments are not your game
My body is not your fieldwork
This machine that lets me live
My mind is not that experiment
It has yet plenty thoughts to give
Do you know what?
Choices routine and home
Those aren't yours
Please leave me alone
I don't want to take a test
Or endure such pokes and pills
I have enough going on
Without those wrecking side effect chills
Listen to my feeling
Of why I chose not intervention
You'll understand my voice
If you have the right intention
Grace and God. Beauty and life!
This is me! Potential Power Prosperity
Third grade teacher, bird watcher, world traveler
Piano player, pastry baker, flower planter
I am with my family!
If you haven't yet met mister All,
he's a renowned world traveler.
He's in every port,
postulates for sport;
a self-proclaimed mysteries unraveler.
Doubtless you know mister All,
any space becomes his dominion.
His view never bends,
as he loudly contends,
everyone must accept his opinion.
Surely you've suffered mister All,
he's every man's familiar relation.
He's anxious to show it,
his first name is Know-it;
he dominates every conversation.
My name is daisy
And I like to bask in sun and be just a little lazy
Yellow is my domain
Don't it want to drive you just a little insane
I am a world traveler
Dressed in many coated furs
I love to lounge by valleys and creeks
Even mountain tops at their highest peaks
Don't mind my matted hair
May be parted but its still has golden flare
Been stepped on one to many times
But I bounce back every time
Members of family had heads chopped off
By farmers who want to lower their crops
I love to play splish splash with the rain
Makes my fragrance drive one insane
I can even tell if you like butter
By holding me under chin like there's no other
So stop by and just pluck me up
For I just want to be somebody's butter cup
I once knew a boy,
without guile and innocent.
We milked the cow
and goats together,
and as we worked,
we made up stories
of the secret life
of the cow,
and how
she was a sort of
super hero,
a bovine 007,
world traveler,
when we weren't
watching her.
Then one day,
the boy disappeared.
Perhaps,
some synapse
short circuited,
or some
unspoken incident.
Some one else
was in his place.
Abducted, possessed?
I never saw the boy
again.
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