#nomad
A nomadic child moving town-to-town;
From my first breath til graduation day.
A girl without a house to call her home,
Passing through the doorways of twenty-three.
For nineteen years I was always, "the new"–
The eternal guest every place, "I knew"
Not a space to claim for my very own,
Before I settled, it was time to roam.
A new residence; An old reflection,
And a constant feeling of being cold
With a consistent need for deflection.
Another new school to learn, been enrolled.
Perpetually the, "new kid" in school,
Forever practicing the golden rule.
Everyplace remains exactly the same;
With all the kids asking, "what is your name"?
School lessons were set on the back burner-
Making friends became the priority.
So, I was a mediocre learner-
Became mothers inferiority.
Uncertainty for my expected role,
Has the personality of a droll.
A new friend made, is another friend lost;
Constantly moving comes with a high cost.
Every hello lead to a good-bye,
Childhood of stability is broken down.
A childs normal life thats gone awry,
Has left a woman without a hometown!
No longer wearing a nomadic crown;
Ive learned that no matter where I may stay,
That my very skin is what I call home,
Which has allowed me to be carefree.
Apr 19
Apr 19, 2026 at 9:03 AM UTC
The mind was meant to wander.
Pushing past pre-existing ponders;
Every step scatters, picks apart simple matters
until a complex of complexity acts as temporary shelter.
Observe every particle and pixel,
allow all sides to mix well
as you sleep on the thought for one mere slumber.
Wake up, keep moving, and find the number
of thoughts and perspectives climbing ever higher.
Don't stare at the stairs of thought, climb them!
Don't waste too much time trying to rhyme them,
Let the mind wander and you will discover that
being a nomad sets creative thoughts free.
Nov 29, 2025
Nov 29, 2025 at 1:24 PM UTC
Looking back at my first week in Bulgaria...
Do not compare Cyrillic to Russian or face hysteria!
Don’t take it personal if folks seem grumpy or whiney,
Their hearts are still huge, though their dogs are all tiny.
A deep, proud history they gladly declare,
While we Western Europeans seem to shout everywhere.
I love the slow living, its pace and its grace,
Yet curse when my beer is last place in the race.
The first place I’ve been where no card tips apply,
Only cash levs will put a spark in their eye.
Five more weeks left to wander and play,
To learn how the locals make a slow life feel okay.
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 12:58 PM UTC
Six weeks from now everything changes.
Leaving family and friends, colleagues and neighbours.
No more car or address, speaking native to strangers.
Just me, two bags, and thoughts as a burden.
I step into the dreams that I dreamt for so long.
— — —
Travel has always soothed my mind.
Backseat, between my brothers.
I look outside and explain it all:
That road heads north, look there’s fish to catch!
It doesn’t matter where I go, inspiration everywhere.
— — —
The divorce doesn’t matter, mom and dad seem happy.
Twice the vacations! Twice the presents!
Never talk about the other house, pretend and please.
It’s just a secret. A trade for love.
I lie well. Kids do.
— — —
When I grow up I will see it all, no secret can hide from me!
I am independent, I don’t need your help.
Who do you think you are for even offering it to me?
I’m smarter than you, I will find my way.
There’s nothing I shouldn’t be able to reach on my own.
— — —
We are doing great on our own, don’t notice the mess.
We don’t want a family, can’t you imagine the stress?
No one understands the way we think, how we feel.
Why even try connecting if it’s not meant to be?
We know the stories. We tell them. We believe them.
Isn’t that enough?
There’s no need to run, is there?
Look how well you’ve been doing!
Don’t ruin it chasing what you’ll never keep!
Are you sure? Not just impulse again?
Is it really necessary?
— — —
Bless you for all that you’ve done for me.
I wish you’d leave now, it’s time, but I’m sure you’ll stay.
Tell me all the lies I used to love.
Where’s the doubt and shame?
Show me if you are still able to be creative.
It seems easy now, a simple life.
Would I have even gotten here, if it wasn’t for you?
Tickets booked, goodbyes planned.
Or maybe everything has already changed.
Jun 17, 2025
Jun 17, 2025 at 5:59 PM UTC
I’ve been at the helm on a rudderless ship
lost in a mercurial sea of deficiency
I could fly by the sit of my pants
with a suitcase already packed
on any given day
at any given time
at any given place
I was where I wanted to be
seeing who I wanted to see
doing what I wanted to do
despite my responsibilities as a father
or having to face the daunting tasks
that appeased my current girlfriend(s).
having no structure and no plan,
life was a timeline of formidable prospects.
I rather enjoyed it
quite nicely.
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025 at 7:59 PM UTC
Maybe I'll be an eternal nomad,
Since my only home is in your arms.
A lo mejor sere una eterna nómada,
porque mi único hogar esta en tus brazos.
Apr 6, 2025
Apr 6, 2025 at 10:24 AM UTC
O’ country of my blood,
country of my ancestors
I long for you
Your luscious green landscapes
and your highest mountains
Your beautiful waterfalls
and your fountains
The sound of the neighborhood kids
laughing in the streets,
I long for you
A time where we ran outdoors so excited
we forgot to put our shoes on,
sitting on the front porch buying watermelon from the fruit-cart man,
then sharing it with our friends,
I long for you
Wherever I go I belong to you, one day shall my ashes be scattered and soil with you.
Jan 28, 2024
Jan 28, 2024 at 6:41 AM UTC
I’m starting to believe that this nomadic lifestyle
Ain’t at all for the faint of heart
Thousands of places in so little time
Exhausted but I can’t stop yet as no one place holds extreme value to me
Footprints in the sand tell a story of where I’ve been
Darkness engulfs me and makes it harder to decide where to begin
Perhaps I should just ‘eeny meeny miny mo’ it
Since stopping isn’t nearly as important
Thoughts clutter my walkway like precious gems covered by a recent sandstorm
Disgruntled, I glance out over my shoulder
Listening for the whisper of the wind to call out to me
But wait… I’m getting a head of myself
That’s dangerous when you’re a nomad
Whatever is waiting around the next bend
A mystery waiting to be unveiled
Like a grieving widow, mourning her sanity
I run
Disjointed from reality
I feel no pain
Opinions stabbing me like shards of glass
Dripping with the blood of identity
I’m a fraud… and yet, on I run
The tears I’ve cried flow through this deserted land like the Nile
It’s ingenious
They nurture my steps
A suckling waiting to be fed
I travel the worn path
night and day day and night
Stopping only to mark my place
I’ve been here before
And I never even left the comfort of my bed
This journey of a thousand steps
Inside my ever restless mind
Feb 8, 2023
Feb 8, 2023 at 11:32 AM UTC
Halfway there
Then I turn around
Start walking west
But I hit the ground
And I don't get back up
I turn to my side
Elbow underneath
As the I watch the Sun pry
The gravel digs in
I turn on my back
Lie on my arm
Make it all pitch-black
I keep 'em open
When I hear sounds
Engines revving
It's about to go down
I crawl outta the way
My palms scraped and ******
Was lying on the dirt
But my jeans got muddy
Lights fly past
They show me a way
So I tie up my hair
And start walking straight
I'm still halfway there
But I turn my feet
Start walking north
Now there's grass underneath
How could one find me,
In this mess of a field?
Sep 26, 2020
Sep 26, 2020 at 3:12 PM UTC
Sunken eyes, wretched mind
This void I feel is my demise
The depths to which can't be described
Reality, the biggest lie
I wander roads that can't go wrong
So will you miss me when I'm gone?
I'm right here yet so far away
Will you be the one who stays?
Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 10:43 PM UTC
Oasis
by Michael R. Burch
for Beth
I want tears to form again
in the shriveled glands of these eyes
dried all these long years
by too much heated knowing.
I want tears to course down
these parched cheeks,
to star these cracked lips
like an improbable dew
in the heart of a desert.
I want words to burble up
like happiness, like the thought of love,
like the overwhelming, shimmering thought of you
to a nomad who
has only known drought.
Keywords/Tags: Sonnet, love, eyes, glands, tears, cheeks, lips, dew, desert, oasis, mirage, nomad, drought, words, happiness
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 4:52 AM UTC
Could you be here?
the street sign, trees, puddles of wet snow
murmur Yesssssssss
father and daughter playing a card game
with the woman behind the counter
whisper You could, if you tried
the drawing and origami birds
folded up inside an exhibition booklet from Krakow
urge you
to be here.
Mar 11, 2020
Mar 11, 2020 at 6:24 AM UTC
Marie, took some fresh baked goods,
set her sail through blood-curdling woods,
in search of a one who hearts can alter.
her heart broke a man,
and so with sedan,
she seeked the one who’d scrap her falter.
to prevail over cold,
she took some gold,
to pay the one who hearts can alter.
she traveled sad,
but reached a nomad,
who claimed “i’m the one who hearts can alter.”
he was a fraud,
very sharp-clawed,
he stole her gold and then he paltered.
took his leave,
with a thieve,
after saying “Marie, your heart is altered.”
“Oh, Marie naive,
do you still grieve?”
the nomad was actually a salter,
see in this ground,
there’s not around,
a single soul that hearts can alter.
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 9:14 AM UTC
You may believe home to be an address,
You are wrong.
The co-ordinates I list as my place of residence,
Are subject to change.
As do the seasons,
As my health waxes and wanes,
As my job becomes a harrowing echo,
My home will remain,
Incorrupt,
Unblemished.
As the night-sky,
Glistens and reminisces.
Its nostalgic ribbon intertwines with my soul -
My heart,
Recognises its home.
The waves,
That serenely lap against the shore,
Leaving, once elapsed,
A maze of its belongings,
Like a Nomad on his journey.
Demonstrative tides of exposure,
Against our profane human culture,
To jumble together
In definition,
Our home and our belongings.
Does this translate,
That home is sovereign
Of worldly corruption,
And is therefore
Safe from life’s unpredictability?
Home,
It is a state of mind.
Home is the essence which coats your soul.
Home is the promise of peace.
Home could never be my place of residence,
For between hospitals and the couches I have surfed,
Void of worldly possessions,
I have never once been homeless.
I possess more than the man who cannot see
That a fixed abode in this world is not the true interpretation,
Of a phrase so bespoke.
As I look into the night-sky,
And reminisce;
As the waves serenely lap
Against the borders of land and sea,
I accept that no matter where in the world I may find myself,
The moon will still shine,
The waves will still sing soft melodies to the sand,
And my home,
I forever hold in my hand.
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 10:28 AM UTC
•I’ll take you home•
I know that’s where you’ve been dying to go
I’ll take you there, where the air fills your lungs
And kisses your breath with it’s tender chill
I’ll take you where the fire rests all day
Waiting to be accompanied by your igniting flame
And where the birds sing to the wind, welcoming tales to let you in
I’ll take you home, wherever it is you want to go
As long as your fingers are wrapped in my hand
And your head rests on my shoulders
I promise to keep the fire going, until I have to let you go
But remember when that day appears
You’ll have forgotten me, and all your fears
•And You’ll be home, where you belong. •
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 11:34 PM UTC
You know the first few questions one asks, when they meet someone new:
What do you do? Where are you from? Where do you live?
Then they eye your clothes, how do you dress up.
They give a verdict based on what they hear, what they see.
That's who you are.
I don't have an answer for these anymore.
I gave up on my previous identities.
Left my job 2 weeks ago.
A job that gave me a certain identity for 8 years; a brand name, a comfort zone.
Left my clothes behind, donated or gave some to friends.
Clothes that defined me; my hippie skirts, my tweed professor jacket.
And finally, leaving the country I lived for 8 years.
In just 2 days.
Who am I now?
I am ME.
More than ever.
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 4:23 AM UTC
Some homes don't let go of things
And their floors become unclear
Behind their blinds
It's hard to find
But the reason's always fear
Closets full of little things
A sweet sentimental Salve
Various keys
To Memories
Rather re-lived than had
kitchens gathered up with things
As if clutched in jaws most grim
It's all about
Not running out
False anticipation
Bedrooms full of silent things
Like a promise never kept
The sheepless wool
That's ment to cull
The sight from dreams once dreamt
Jun 2, 2019
Jun 2, 2019 at 4:10 AM UTC
Love is a Phoenician breeze,
Purest abjad of Tyrian purple and royal blue,
Pillow bearer of golden consonance between kings.
Love is a Phoenician trader over deepest-sounded seas,
Far-blown nomad that still wants for the thunder of golden drums
And the rain that comes in rounded vowels of water.
Because love has no tribe but is the purest nomad.
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 12:17 AM UTC
He felt like home
The other half of my soul
My heart has always been homeless
I held a nomad's heart
Unable to take part
In settling for a love that was fruitless
Yet with him, time stood still
Leaving my fate unfulfilled
With him, I found no need to wander
Because of him, I stayed
He consumed more of my days
In him, I found safety and comfort
Then one day I realized
I became spoiled with vice
For I was a vagabond who stayed
What use are my wings
If I am not exploring
My heart was simply led astray
As though I was caught under glass
Because I had trespassed
In a home that was not meant for me
He felt like home
When I did not have my own
I was not looking for one initially
I explored love's territory
Leaving my own love's story
As I resume my journey again
There are times I still wonder
On those days of endless ponder
If I had made the right choice in the end
Apr 18, 2019
Apr 18, 2019 at 11:30 PM UTC
Crazy nomad soul
Finds sanctuary tranquil
In poetic flights!
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 1:23 PM UTC