Category Archives: Wanderlust

A Hiatus Duly Taken

Afternoon, friends and readers. Apologies for the brief hiatus I had to take the last few days. I’ve been sick the past week or so and I didn’t have it in me to post every day. My poem today comes from a place of wanderlust. I cannot help but feel as if my time is being wasted not having adventures. Trying to ask myself what I want and how to get there has become a daily task. Please enjoy the poem.

La Isla

As the days and weeks and years

pass between my ears,

I find myself awash in wishing

for a place to go missing.

I’ll fly a plane over the jungle,

go insane when i bungle,

castaway on some deserted isle,

missing my bathroom tile.

I’ll sail a ship to distant shores

and find that place away from bores.

A man of adventure

whose service could never be indentured.

I’d live for me and all my vices,

a selfish world and all that entices.

Apart from the rest

even if I’m not the best.

I’d be me and mine,

finally over the line,

past the point of crying

and surely now,

no longer dying.

I’d be put through my pace

with a smile on my face

and I might now know the taste

of that one displaced…

Relaxing, Are You?

Afternoon, friends and all others. I hope you’ll all enjoy the poem today. Reading it should be like writing it, you’ll smell the sea and feel the sand, the cool shade of the tree you’re sitting under, and just, finally, be able to breathe. Without further ado…

Under a Tree

On a cloud above the rest,

not the ground we so detest,

peering down at all the ants

as gulls pirouette and dance.

Fearing there upon the shore

there might be some kind of door

to that place I’d like to go.

Much anticipation does it sew.

By the sea

there is a tree

under which I’ll sit

for just a bit,

think a while

and maybe I’ll smile.

Robinson Crusoe

Afternoon. Oftentimes I dream of the high seas. I am an adventurous spirit, an ambitious man. I sometimes forget how easy it is, how common it is, to be lost at sea. To be lost and never find your way again in that wide blue expanse. I grew up on stories of the Bermuda Triangle, Amelia Earhart, Captain Cook, etc. Adventurers and pioneers and even just regular old people losing their way and never being found again. What adventures they had. Having been lost myself, albeit in a more metaphorical sense, I have come to appreciate the ones who got lost even moreso. They take a path we don’t need to. Trailblazers one and all. Some day I think all those lost ones will be found again. No one is ever truly lost forever. Only waiting to be found.

Sacred Isle

Castaway

Shorn, torn apart and scorned

Tatters and rags

Beggars and dregs

Richest man on the island

Though the poorest so too

See how the stars aline

Blood omens line the sky

So allein, a sign!

Hoping to yourself it’s not a lie

Hereafter, maybe a beer after?

Hearing echoes in your laughter

Of your laughter

Bats and bugs hang from the rafter

Fair seas and fair winds

They’ve gone rusty, all your tins

Your hair’s getting long, friend

“Who’s speaking? Who’s that?”

“Oh.”

Just my head again

Little bug, little bug

How you run away…