Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Trying to learn, while I learn to fail
Not to be fixated now that I have set the sail
Towards a wiser me, maybe a brighter me
Decided to travel through the travesties,
Only to enlighten me.  

All I was hoping for was an illusion,
Was it an illusion of my creation?
Maybe nothing but just a delusion,
Maybe I'll get through it, hoping for an end
Never realized how I was missing the point,
When I let my laughter suspend.

They say it is all about the journey and not the destination,
I always figured they didn't understand my situation
What's the worse that can happen, they ask
Well, I may come short of the handed task.

Is it all in the process, I wonder
Is pondering about the end game always a blunder
Weren't we all meant to get somewhere, achieve our goals?
Or are we always trying to fill a hole,
A hole without which we can't be whole,
A part of us, this hole so wide,
It can make you do the unthinkable,
A hole of the unknown in our very own little fable.

I'm always at war to figure out the answer,
Maybe the quest in itself is a paradox,
Maybe I'd be better off figuring out the way
To love the journey and finally think outside the box.

The answer had always been in front of my eyes,
I couldn't unwrap myself from all the lies
The untold truth of what we were supposed to be,
Not finding the hidden treasure but being the voyagers of the sea,
For the treasure is what you see,
When you become better than what you were meant to be.

Just a little older, just a little wiser
Now understanding that I was always a miser
Holding onto my darkness and never letting go,
Now I'm making memories that I can never blow.

The destination had always been on my mind,
Always right in front of my eyes,
I was clouded, I was stranded
The rewards always seemed nice
But walking when I was supposed to run
Made me comprehend that the journey is what is fun!
Paul Butters Dec 2019
We watch from space
Safe in our spaceship
As a small rock planet,
That has orbited it’s star
Over seven and a half billion times –
All those billions of its years –
Is peeled away
And eaten
By that very sun
That gave it birth.

Two and a half billion years before,
This star ran dry of hydrogen
And grew
From yellow dwarf to red giant.

Now, nothing is left of three of its worlds,
All engulfed by flame
As the sun grew
Into a giant ball of death.
All history is gone.
Nothing to show
For countless civilisations
That adorned the third planet.

But oh what’s this?
We spot a tiny spacecraft!
Must reel it in.
Examine it.

It has a name:
“Voyager 1”
Inside: a Golden Disc!
A Golden Record.
We can play it.
Images of hairless bipeds.
Ancestors from that third planet.
Sounds of animals and someone laughing.
Images of bipeds taking sustenance.
And best of all
More sounds
Of something called “Rock Music”:
A being called “Chuck Berry”
“Singing a song” called “Johnny B. Goode”.
For we have feet too
And it makes them tap.

Paul Butters

© PB 12\12\2019.
5 billion years hence, the sun will become a red giant.....
gabrielle Jan 2019
I am a traveler ;
traveling the galaxies.

I am a voyager ;
voyaging a million miles to you.

I am a traveler ;
traveling the impossibilities.

I am a voyager ;
voyaging the unbearable journey
of loving me too.
a voyager
too long in travel
too impossible of stepping on my destination
too dark for the means of loving me too

i would still love it
if the journey, is still not loving me
James Study Dec 2018
The earth is shaking and fire everywhere
the wind sounds like a trumpet in the air
words from the mountain ablaze in the stone
now lay in pieces with rubble and bone
forever adrift in the veiled black space
the golden record whats left of this place
solfang May 2018
we all fear relationship,
a sunken feeling,
when attachment
weighs you


you fear it would not sail,
with the anchors of
past memories
holding this journey.

when it does sail one day,
I want to sing to
the song of the sea;
the sea of love.

with a voyager
who knows how
to navigate my
rocky emotions;
waves of anxiety
and leads me to
where our future lies.
was having a talk with a friend about relationships.
both of s are afraid of many different issues,
one fell out of love, one is past loving love.

maybe it's just not the right time to sail
The afternoon heat hung like a rising fever.
The old iron gates of the school yard wait to swing.
My feet planted near the outskirts.
Sweeping the sticky hair from my face,
alone I wait.

Chocolate melted in my pocket.
Minutes turn to hours.
A gallery of photographs has passed me by.
Panic snickers, searching for your face.
The waiting, the patience,
feeling more like a punch, than a verb.

The chocolate now a sticky ink, staining my pants.
I feel a voyager aboard a lost ship, floating,
hoping for shore.

Sudden without warning,
you grace my sight,
slow motion, near the gate door.
In one swing, you're here.
The wait long forgot,
hung on your beautiful stare.
Prose poem, using a random collection of words.

chocolate, voyager, gallery, sweeping, warning, iron, swing, old, planted, ink, fever, gates, punch, hung, pocket
Diána Bósa May 2017
Through the sea of flames
I pursue to fulfill this
shadow quest of mine,

governing my ark
recklessly against the winds
of mauling doubts, toward you.
Hayimus May 2017
My mind, an ocean of thoughts
You, a voyager, courageous and patient
Do I only like the idea of you?
Sam Shoyer Jan 2015
particles, surging in bubbles
in a great barrier
between the space we know
and what we know only to call space
The faint whispers of humanity
cannot be heard from here
not even the light
of the only star we know
the sun we love
can be seen

the voyager continues on its collision course
with mystery and unknown
and breaks through the barrier
because it cannot divert
and enters deep space

— The End —