#drifter poems on Hello Poetry

Nathan Wilson Oct 2016

Drifter

I can't seem to find my way home.
Through this world I roam.
Rejected and alone.
I miss the times when I was happy.
But now my clothes are tattered.
My boots are worn and battered.
But I still walk these lonely roads.

#alone #walking #drifter

Vivek Sharma Aug 2016

who broke you?

who broke you?
a lover,
a stranger,
a drifter,
a grifter,
a bolt
of lightning?

now,
get back up,
brush it off
fix yourself
and walk.

a reminder to self

#broken #lover #stranger #lightning #drifter #grifter #getbackup #brushitoff

Delilah Wine Williams Jul 2016

Has this become my life?

Has this become my life?
Writing poems that few people take their time to read
Looking at the walls, windows, and shadows hoping to see light
Waiting to have a social life again

Has this become my life?
Waiting anxiously for a friend to call or text
Knowing that I can only count them with one hand
One hand because there are restrictions set upon my life

Has this become my life?
Talking to thyself in the middle of the living room
Listening to music and thinking of what could have been
Looking at thyself in the mirror and controling the tears
Painting my face with no ocation just because I'm bored

Has this become my life?
Overthinking each past situation
Realizing every mistake with agony
Looking at the sky and screaming why

Has this become my life?
Whispering to myself that it's all gonna be okay
Meanwhile listening to others enjoying the outside
Trying to be better in a bubble
Being judged by every single present mistake or action

Has this become my life?
Being the center of attention at home
Driving to doctors here and there, there and here
Getting labs done every once in a while

Has this become my life?
My entire future lying in the hands of others
Proffessionals determining which pills I should pop
Parents restricting my social life
Listening to every opinion of what I should do with my life

Has this become my life?
Bursting into tears in my mothers arms
Accepting only professionals and mom to unburden me
Denying help from others because the anger exceeds the forgivenes

Has this become my life?
YES.

Copyright under Delilah Wine Williams
"Has this become my life?" is a literal excerpt from episodes in my life.

#love #poem #depression #sun #moon #happy #hurting #drifter #perky #excell

Delilah Wine Williams Jul 2016

Hurting

My poems are better when I'm hurting
I can connect more with people and bond through the pain
My poems are better when I'm hurting
Everything is seen through tears and lust

My poems are bad when I'm happy
I see everything in a positive way
I find no critics to say
My poems are bad when I'm happy
Usually writers connect through life experiences (the bad ones mostly)
My poems are bad when I'm happy
No one likes to read a perky girl's poem

My poems are excell when I'm fading
I see the moon and start talking about it
You see the loneliness drives me to this
My poems excell when I'm fading
I talk about lust and people suddenly recall old memories

Copyright Delilah Wine Williams

#love #poem #depression #sun #moon #happy #hurting #drifter #perky #excell

Jason Mykl Snyman Feb 2016

The Drifter

The man beside me, he spoke in staccato sentences – as if his lips had forgotten the shape of words.

He said he’d been walking a long time, with a hungry thumb stuck out into the road, grasping for the wind beside passing cars. With tired eyes he watched them move on and blur into the faraway horizon.

He’d spent many days out there beneath the meat-eating sun, hoping to find himself in the shade. By night, he slept beneath blankets of stars and dead leaves.

A ghosted-out drifter upon the loneliest roads, appearing only in the transient headlights, and then gone.

I asked him where he was headed; he said it wasn’t what pulled him, but what pushed him instead. There was no beckoning light. He said the shadows, they snapped at his heels, and there was something in the deep lines upon that weather-blown face, like country roads – and I believed him, and kept my foot down upon the pedal.

He said a lot of things, in that strange, broken way. He said a lot of things for the longest time, and then for a longer time still, said nothing at all.

I’m not sure which was worse.

#ghost #shadows #travel #road #drifter #hitchhiker #hitchhiking

Michael Lee Johnson Jan 2016

The Drifter, by Michael Lee Johnson, Itasca, IL

The drifter in the room is a stranger,
he is crazy, is Bigfoot with deer moccasins on−
monster of condominium rooms and dreams.
The drifter in this room used to be my friend.
He spoke straight sentences, they did not sound like poetry-
reverberated like a narrative, special lines good a few bad,
or stories being unwound by the tongue of a gentleman,
lip service, juggler of simple words to children.
The night is a dark believer in drifters,
they sound sober, affairs with the wind,
the 3 A.M. honking of the Metro trains.
Everything sleeps with a love, a nightmare at night.
The drifter.

Michael Lee Johnson, Itasca, IL. nominated for 2 Pushcart Prize awards for poetry 2015. The Drifter along with 84 other poetry videos can be found on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/user/poetrymanusa/videos

#poem #poetry #dark #poems #johnson #drifter #lee #michael #exile #itasca

Donald Charles Mark Keys Feb 2015

Cloud Warrior

A drifter, a shadow,
There one minute, moving on the next
Always watching, always waiting
Loved by some, despised by others
But never caring.

The eternal guardian of the sky
Some celebrate the absence of any,
Others relish in the relief it brings
But regardless it does its job
Whether hated or loved

It can be the solitary loner,
But it always looks for a group.
Whether to enhance the sunset,
Or create a righteous storm
It seeks comrades, it seeks a home.

Never caring whether hated or loved
It seeks comrades it seeks a home
But it still stands resolute.
It will always watch, it will always guard;
Regardless of the opinions of other.

This one is another old one off my facebook notes

#hope #clouds #warrior #drifter #guardian

Robert Salát Jan 2015

Fat Boy Drifter's blues

Šest tisíc mil asfaltu a prachu.
Kolik tisíc chlapů vydalo se na tu cestu?
Už dobře poznáš tu hranici strachu,
když blížíš se k proklatýmu městu.

Tam lidi neznaj slitování
a ženský neznaj lásku,
a ty proto nad svítáním
nosíš ocel na opasku.

A tak jedeš dál,
možná najdeš svoje sny.
Seš silnice král,
ale štvou tě pouštní psi.

Snad až si jednou spočineš
na lůžku z kapradin a mechů,
doufám, že pak nalezneš
klid hvězd, co ti poskytujou střechu.

#dust #blues #drifter #czech

Daylight 4U2C May 2014

Spacer, Floater, Drifter, I'm Her

It feels like i'm floating on thin air,
spinning,
drifting.
Wonder if i'm really here.
Shattered glass
makes stars that line the sky,
in every way,
and I don't even question why.
I'm a floater.
Floating on by.
I'm a drifter,
and I don't know why.
But I'm staring up
at this black glass sky,
that will welcome me at times.
Telling me it never really changes,
night is always night.
Cold yet warm,
and I don't know why.
Why I stare at this sky,
and call it a beauty.
Call it a saint.
Call it a home,
every now and then.
Why I float,
between it's stars,
that in my eyes,
don't seem that far.
Why I drift,
in it's cold warmth,
that hugs me,
embracing my inner all.
And I never ask why,
the cold warm sky,
is my stop sign,
while yet so vast.

After a long time, no sleep, just music (not even thoughts) I close my eyes, for my surrounding to change, and in my bed I sink, to my night sky's embrace. And I don't know why, I'm so different, or why they are all the same. All I know is they can't see the way I can.

#poem #im #her #dreamer #spacer #drifter #floater

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