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Travis Wilson May 14
Lonesome the woodsman walked
And by his own mine was he mocked
It'd been weeks but felt like years
Since his mother's tongue did he hear
It's the kind of thing that cracks the brain
Makes the woodsman go insane
Any language here would be
The tongue of Euchee or of Cherokee
But Alexander Long a fugitive was made
When the Euchee he'd betrayed
The scar upon his bald head told
Of an Euchee warrior brave and bold
Who struck the vicious blow
And showed the hatred that would grow
Until Long did his crime commit
And violate the peaceful writ
And now an outlaw Long'd been made
And in Appalachia would stay he
In the home of the Cherokee.
Alexander Long was a villain of the Yamasee War in the Carolinas. An outlaw who lived deep in the frontier and stoked tensions between the Euchee and the Cherokee
It's the chaos that makes the orderly
And this I tell you solemnly
It's the crooked man that draws the straightest
The crazy eyes that make the greatest.
Beauty is from ugly spawned
The frog prince in a wild pond
The genius with his untamed hair
Wright Brothers with their crazy dare
An artist with a broken mind
Led out of chaos by this kind
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just "on spec", addressed as follows, "Clancy, of The Overflow".

And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar)
Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
"Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are."

In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving "down the Cooper" where the Western drovers go;
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.

And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars.

I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,
And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, ***** city
Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all

And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street,
And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,
Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless ***** of feet.

And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me
As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,
With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,
For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.

And I somehow rather fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy,
Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,
While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the journal —
But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of "The Overflow".
Travis Wilson Dec 2019
Was for a dream that I would try
From Fate's fingers would I it pry
But Fate's a fickle master
And she can be a *******
So I'll earn it through my sweat
And that's a solid bet
Time alone can conceal
The victory life will deal
To those who work and sweat
  Dec 2019 Travis Wilson
Whether a comma, or colon:
Punctuation slows my rolling
I need no period. When I end
no Capitalization when I begin
Rulelessly I flow my art
  Not a single!
Exclamation mark
Are you not the one
Who'll know?
Where a question mark
No longer goes

Warp the structure
Bend the lines
Put in repeat
Let emotion unwind
Make yourself
Your poetry's the best
Be your own ruler
Pass your own test

Take your own road
Where ever it leads
Lover or hater
It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim
No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect
I love you all!!

Welcome aboard newbies!!!

Who said Exclamation marks were merely laughing at your own joke?!

Actually my grand daughter gave me this poem!
Travis Wilson Dec 2019
Say it all comes down to hate
Ah and wouldn't it be great
If all your enemies were evil
Pick'em out like a boll weavil
Ah but man is convoluted
And by simplicity we've polluted
The system of decision
It ain't a game of precision
A choice that's made with ease
Can be the greatest tease
We all want that black and white
But it ain't so easy, wrong and right
  Dec 2019 Travis Wilson
That Guy
My father's voice
Is quite like a canyon:
deep, rocky, and beautiful.

My father's voice
Is much like a desert:
dry, windy, and darkly colorful.

My father's voice
Is just like the ocean:
blue, misty, and black in it's reaches.

My father's voice
would be ever more pleasing
If he would just shut up.
I just need a moment of silence.
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