Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Loreah Mar 12
Under a mask and some ripples
An ocean of sky and foam of clouds
Wind wanderer, you and your tides
Must have been where nothing remains
MyReflections Oct 2020
I see him everyday, on a broken pieces of mirror
His pale face, body thin, Eyes sink in tears.
Cry of his belly and brain, is all he could hear
Carrying the weight of his shattered dream
His heart beats in the fear
Will he ever overcome
From this enduring nightmare.
Will someday he can see himself
As he had wish to appear?
Lost in these thoughts, every now and then
He moves here to there
So the passengers, passing on the street
Called him, 'The Street wanderer'.

Sometimes he dives into his memories
Remembering how he had come here
Remembering that once he had his loving parents
His friends, his relatives, all were there
But he left the home and brought himself alone
To do something for which the world can cheer
And as you can see, he reached nowhere
Shedding his hope with every drop of tear.

But forget, what had happened in the past
As this morning, the Sun casts
The lights of bright fortune
What he have to do
is to follow his tune.
Sitting on a bench
That serve him as bed
He takeout his dairy
And his pen.
Started to jot
Whatever in his mind
Satisfied with nothing
He scratched all, in no time
In that anger, he had on self,
He hold his head, he yelp.
He remembered the words of his parents
"Focus on studies, You are not for all this!"
Oh, how good, if he follow their instruction
At least, he can see his reflections.

Time passed from day to night
And he is still, without smile
Sitting on that very bench
He pick his dairy, in his hand
Turning the wrinkled pages, all scratched.
Marking his disbelief on himself.
But this time he is determined
And this very night, he have to find
The rhyme
The very best rhyme.
The search of Perfection
Naveen Malhotra Sep 2020
He has tread his path alone
He will tread his path alone
You know he hates name and fame
He wishes to remain unknown
For You too are Unknown
He wishes to go towards You
Please don't stop his heartbeats at this juncture
He wishes to fulfill his some important responsibilities
Later if You willed he wishes to be a wanderer
Moving across lands and oceans
You know he doesn't  even wish to put the burden of his death on anyone
He just wishes to get lost and vanished in unknown trails to be one with You
Naveen Malhotra Aug 2020
Wanderers in ochre robes
Wander across hills and mountains bare foot
In their quest for truth
Thorns prickling their feet
Heat and frost burning their skin
They are often ridiculed
What makes them so crazy
That they find beauty of life out of sync
May be they have seen life rife with so much strife
That they have nothing to whine
Or may be it is their spiritual might
Which is difficult to attain otherwise
Or may be they tillage the essence of life by pillaging self pride
Or may be they polish the unpolished side of life and make bright the dark inside
Who verily knows
What is right
Let them live their lives
Let us live our lives
CMXIClement Jun 2020
Alone he walks down a rocky road,
shadow scattered with winding turns.
With canvas sacks he carries this load.
While eyes fall sleepy and muscles burn.

Each step taken with intention,
To reach the end of this twisted path.
Each step fueled by retention
of memories from distant past.

Alone he walks, as shadows laugh.
Nocturnal creatures stare, and jeer.
His lonely journey a social gaffe,
He takes solace behind a stoic veneer.

He never had roots, as the trees beside him.
But he met other caiteoiri along the way.
He spoke with them in moonlight dim,
With unspoken knowing that they would stray.

Not well understood, this roving man.
But those that tried could see his heart.
A vagabond that most have banned.
For reasons only seen in part.

Cricket chirps, they sound then subside
as he nears them along the crooked way.
They pick back up with distance wide.
He can sense the awful things they say.

He did not ask for this nightly trek.
Or to carry the burden of this sailcloth sack.
Sympathy is rarely a prospect.
Some folks never wander this stony track.

Some will say they understand,
but those that do, they know the truth.
That to say such things is sleight of hand.
No one can really know but you.
Manish Anne May 2020
Spit out thunder,
Fortress of emotions,
Buried deep under

With every beat that drops,
Pounding in my heart,
Dancing with me

Moonlight drives, crimson
Red painted sky,
I sense drama everywhere
Draws me to the truth

And when Nature,
Holds your hand
And says, darling
The founder is you,
This is your race
Church Rowe May 2020
in a forest,
insects on my toes.
Have I lost it?
It’s better if I don’t think for so long.
I might stop it,
sabotage it,
before I make it home.

Don’t put that spell on me,
now that I’m free.

in a casket;
washed out to salty sea.
Sun-baked, I’m awake,
but again, it’s just me.
Two times, I have tried
to steer away
from a lake that bears my name,
but now that I’m awake,
the notion just don’t feel the same.

Have I lost we,
now that I’m free?

and dateless.
Lost in time and space.
Doesn’t matter where we begin
so long as it doesn’t end.
I stay in place as everything floats away;
running as if chased.
Lasso the sun or the moon
to rocket me to some other rat race.

If I’ve lost we,
then, so be.
See the song video:
Grey Apr 2020
My heart once drummed a steady tune
Like a contented wanderer it continued on,
s l o w
repeating, repeating, repeating.

But like the wanderer, it sensed you
a disturbance in the equilibrium.
The drum solo arrived, a fast-paced melody

     a     i
  e          n
l                g
                 ­                                     singing.
                   ­                                                   And then...
                                                         ­                                   stopping.
Only to continue again,
just as quick, throbbing just the same.


This time...

The wanderer sensed danger.

This time...

The adrenaline filled my veins
as you filled my gaze
and it was too late.
It's been a rough day. I'm super stressed and anxious. My brain knows that it's probably over nothing but my head, stomach, and heart think otherwise.
Next page