"roamer" poems
Deep within my being
an urge to get up and go
Innate fondness to journey
a need, a want, to not sit still
Searching, seeking new places
acquiesced desire to rove
Roamer, explorer, nomad
impulsive necessity to travel
The lust to wander
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
Roamer on lithium-ion note,
human discourse has evolved
into the latest trend.
We play lithium powered lip lag,
kissing through the media.
Tip-tap tag, a touch here and there,
I slowly chisel away at you soul
with the sharpest, finest pointed words.
Are you in, or are you in?
I keep it simple, stupid.
I play Shakespeare and you play
the audience. I condense
words to their baresense.
The script looks refined,
doubled checked, sublime.
We KISS through the media,
taking turns in a game of finger freeze-
tag. You're it. And I'm the audience.
r u n r r u n?
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 2:05 PM UTC
Right now I’m alive
For now.
How long will I thrive?
Don’t know.
For most of Eternity
I’ll be dead.
Such is Mortality
It’s said.
Let me meditate on that.
Let me contemplate the moment.
Sitting on my mat
Dreaming a romant.
Yes I’m alive
Of that I’ve no doubt.
But where’s my drive?
I must have a scout…
Been to Tenerife and Malta
Scotland and Wales.
Never Gibraltar,
Few travelling tales.
But I’m not a roamer,
Rather stay at home.
Yes ever the homer,
And often alone.
My laptop and telly
Are all that I need.
Give me Keats and Shelley
For a good read.
So it’s right in the Now
I really must stay
No why, who or how
To darken my day.
No thoughts of the past
Or dreams of the future.
Make each second last,
Turn off that computer.
This moment has gone,
Now that you’re reading.
Let’s have another one,
That’s where I’m leading.
For now never lasts,
That we all know.
It’s lost in our pasts,
No longer on show.
I try here to paint
What has been and gone.
An attempt to create
The eternal song.
Paul Butters
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
I remember you well
at the halfway hotel
dusty corduroy ragged
shambling shoes smiling
toothless and untethered.
You, shop door keeper
sidewalk sleeper
a torrent of tall tales
and misery sweet
You, invisible to those
who see beauty
in possessions alone
while all you possess
hangs in blue plastic noose
from your weathered hand.
Me, the bearer of bread
hot soup for the soul
and soft blanket warmth.
We settle together
to watch the world wane
You tell me your story
hushed tones as sun sets
homeowner to street roamer
family man to castaway
as an eye blinked
and winter frosts left their bloom.
We shared our love of Cohen
as the stars forged the sky
you sang a little
with tobacco rough lungs
the sweetest sound
mixed with bitter tears
picking through all that remains
in the ashes of your life.
You thanked me for kindness
grateful for a chance at visibility
your gratitude reciprocated
by the impression left upon my heart
your face forever summoned
by Leonards finest song
I remember you well
at the halfway hotel...
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 6:20 AM UTC
The Roamer roams on,
without thought or mind,
he is free and on his own,
but at what cost?
He roams in the day,
walking the streets,
shabbily dressed, and
confused for a vagrant.
He roams in the night
boots trampling the mud,
of a slick rain-struck sidewalk,
with no direction or guide.
He roams from city to city,
staying for just a few weeks,
then he's off again to
roam to another city.
He roams the woods,
when he gets bored
with the cities and lights,
and the noise and people.
He roams the fields,
observing the sights,
utterly alone with
his thoughts as company.
He roams the world,
roaming far and wide,
searching for something,
he just can't find.
He roams endlessly,
evermore for something
more, yet will he lose
himself in the process?
The Roamer is a nomad,
searching for a place,
for a people who he
can call his home.
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 11:02 PM UTC
Don't pretend
These words are to you
Do you really think
I watch
Everything you do?
Do you believe despair
Is yours
And your's alone
I realize
You mean no harm
You just want to roam
We all have needs
Wants and woes
If you're going to roam
Leave your pain home
Just bring your heart
And your soul
.....
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 8:14 AM UTC
Now I was young and easy. Led
entranced under plum tree blossoms
drifting along the sloping drive
to white-washed walled Stud Farm.
This ecstasy of being cool pig-pink
sunk happy in a mud brown wallow.
Then I was bold and carefree,
working among the barns
busy about the happy yard
on the farm that was home.
Young once only, in my kingdom
as Time let me live my dreams.
It carried me over and over again
in daytime walking or running,
it was lovely, the sweet scents:
fragrant hay field’s cut grass
and herbage fully sun dried.
Or, I pedalled in evenings
led by bicycle-dynamo-beamed
light under the stars to sleep.
Above me the barn owls were
claiming skies of swallows clear.
Coppice hooting in preludes,
there bats about soon flitted
where tiny glow worms flickered.
Then to dawn awake: the farm,
mist-shrouded as a roamer white
dew cloaked, returning to hear
***** crowing from hen coops
black cawing crows in the trees.
Glimpsing the same clear sky
changed from yesterday
into today’s white and blue.
The same sun but born again.
The distant church bells ringing.
Nothing I cared for more
than pink piglets new born,
just meadow-birthed lambs
and black and white calves
that would take up my time:
to hold me to the farm forever
released from orphanage hold.
Oh! I was so young and easy.
In the mercy of its means,
Time held me as I was flying
while I threw off captive
chains - at last unshackled - free.
Tobias
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 10:10 AM UTC
Over the wintery forests,
Wind howls with no leaves to blow.
There are none so savage as the bear,
Fearsome, red in tooth and claw.
Coming forth from the frozen north to commune with nature and me.
The noble beast is best left in peace.
Strong like mountain, fearless like tiger,
The fire burns within the spirit.
Wise dark gaze, voice of quiet or roar.
He rises with purpose.
He is Powerful in body and mind.
Roamer,loaner he walks the forest floor.
The bear guides through dreams and dangers unseen.
He walks as an animal, he stands as a man,
He remains eternal he is the bear.
Written April 9th 2014
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC
She gave her love unselfishly.
Just requiring to be love.
But a man is a hunter.
They search for so much more.
Just ask a good woman.
She gave her heart so unselfishly.
Just requiring to be love.
Only to be hurt in ways she never thought of.
Love, it isn't a bad thing.
It's because of it that many lovers don't go totally insane.
But a man is like a roamer.
Offer the chance to act upon a challenge from another woman.
A few fools accepts it.
Just ask a good woman.
Cause, what she once thought was true and real?
Soon like a magician with tricks saw her true love just disappear.
So, she knows about the dreams of a new love.
She once thought the same way.
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
Writer extraordinaire,
Adventurer,
Wanderer of the stars.
Roamer of broken streets
And lover of the dark.
Explorer of words,
Lover of yellowing pages,
Binder of such elegant growth.
Cursive to the keen eye
And raindrops on the silky petals of a rose.
Pieces of me shine through the littlest crevices,
In the open spaces and hard-to-reach places.
Who am I to deny such poetry?
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 9:56 PM UTC
i wrote this poem to clear off my mind,
as i lay on the ground surrounded by mystery,
gone the past,
moved on to the future,
so others can see my end,
deliver my faith and see how i love you,
weary weather i walked under you,
i am always i am always writing this poetry,
i made this poetry of your reflection,
when you smile i stare at you,
but how can i describe my status,
i am just a roamer to clear my own,
i had to chase my past,
i don't know and always there.
i use to sang your favorite songs,
from afar,
in this very spot i stand i'm waiting,
lately your image still fresh in my mind,
the feeling i cant describe.
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 2:37 AM UTC
After a cascade of rich, autumn leaves
Petals collapsing into the hands of the Earth-
The wandering trees still, yet grieve
Nature gives all it is worth.
The yearning sky has closed its doors
Opening them for other days.
Sparrows searching in muddy pores
In the glory of the morning haze.
A squirrel scatters, foraging
In the mossy sea of an abandoned field; a pair of gleaming eyes watch
Its burning coat of amber revealed.
Staining the white roses scarlet,
Life gives off a final lingering aroma:
A concoction of sweet breath and darkness, the sorrowful wind as lost as a roamer.
Light is a farewell gift from the darkness- for those on their way to die. Time can not make a promise
So radiance leaves without a goodbye.
Pain punctures the soul into stone
Though a ray of sun still peeks through.
My aching heart is as dry as bone
But the bleeding roses still remind me of you.
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 7:04 AM UTC
Kindred transformation
correlates experience
to my canidae companion
life is a pit bull husky mix
loyal roamer fierce friend
running through thorn bushes
in the hushed hilly countryside
unaware of speeding cars
and demonic dog catchers
populating the arachnid cityscape.
I chase a rabbit to said city
keeping my dog head with me
so I can only see in black and white
a transformative color palette
allowing an allowance for my breed
to take the maximum instead of its needs.
A dastardly deal is done in daylight
for spiders to be dogs
and dogs, spiders
splitting spoils
of both species syndicating society
by painfully punishing unfamiliar families.
Four legged frenzy in my feet fortifies me
from eight legged monsters in the street
slinging webs of concrete—
a wanderer's kennel terrifying terrarium
trapping wasps and butterflies
masticating maliciously
reproducing rapidly
trap door spiders create black widows
and envelope stray dogs in white cloaks.
My vigilance guides serpentine movement
strafing from treacherous entanglement
of the tarantula treaty offering silk
cocoons claimed to be for safety
at the price of my mobility.
I must return to the warm
glow that helps me see
even if that means
crawling through the sewers
and eating from the trash
to emerge from the thorn bushes
that tear off my jackal costume
as the sun cleanses my wounds
uncovering cloud counting capability
accumulating cumulus compatriots
and oak marchers waving green flags
showing they can prosper with tranquility
but these flags draw insects that eat contentedly
until there's enough ingesting in sects to draw spiders.
Sep 28, 2021
Sep 28, 2021 at 11:23 PM UTC
I'm a roamer
All I know is how to run away
There is no place I feel safe to stay
The need to be one move ahead
Maybe it hurts more
I am learning how to hide
No desire to reveal myself
Maybe I'm more empty
I find home in love
The delusion that it will be my all and final
A destination in which I can unpack Then I break again
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 3:53 PM UTC
I am not feeling anything,
I am numb.
My heart is encased in something so impenetrable,
Not even I can set it free.
As I lay, I try to feel,
Even the tiniest bit of emotion,
Impossible.
I'm searching for something, anything.
A tear to roll down my face, some hair pulling...
I hear the faintest palpitation of a heart beat.
Get me a doctor, a cure-er,
A poet, a writer.
Someone who can either give me drugs to help cope or stitch me up with a pen.
I'll wait, I'll even count to ten...
...
Didn't think so,
What now?
Do I cut myself open,
Just to test if I bleed?
Or do I keep feigning cares?
Want me to repeatedly say I Love You,
With a blank stare?
Don't call me emotionless, heartless, etc.
I hate it when people point out the obvious.
Use new adjectives,
Like scarred, or a giver-upper, a try-hard,
You know, something that isn't easily seen on the surface.
Something you have to search deep to discover.
What if you dig deep enough and find a treasure?
Imagine finding gold and pearls.
You've set me free, I'm finally happy.
But I'd hate to imagine what comes after.
After you discover what I'm made of,
Will your motives change?
Before it was to help now it's to use me.
Now you want to lather yourself in my riches until I've run out straight to the core.
Might even nibble on what's left,
And then I am left.
As always.
Left for dead.
I heal bit by bit,
I don't remember anything.
I feel hollow but start filling up with nothingness.
I feel softness but only for a split second until that all too familiar hard shell forms.
I'm back.
I feel normal in this terrifying state.
I want to feel, I want to touch and taste and rejoice but-
there's nothing.
No matter how hard I try.
All too soon I hear some news,
Some poor soul hit rock bottom after being rotten rich.
Don't come seeking for comfort in me,
Don't try and use me for your selfish needs.
Just like you I am needy, a loner,
I am a sucker fish hoping to find and taste even the smallest amount of life,
A roamer, searching for something, anything.
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 5:18 AM UTC
Dazzling lights
Dizzying nights
Locking no tips
Nicking cold lips
Smile, city slicker
Smile
Dazzling nights
Dizzying lights
Locking no lips
Nicking cold tips
Smile, country roamer
Smile
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 3:20 PM UTC
The suits march off
to their working place
And return day old soldiers
I thought once
they were fighting for honor
But this day old roamer knows
They are fighting for ego
The pigeons chatter
on the sidewalk
The two men
walked the other direction yesterday
The pigeons ask why
Suits tread the same pavement smooth
When they could go quite anywhere
[My friend asked me once what city had the fattest pigeons.
I asked which had
the fattest men. ]
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 1:17 AM UTC
I live the life of a loner.
I'll pop over a friends house on my bike
for a couple hours, and it's cool
I really have a great assortment of friends
But everywhere I go
I wonder if those kids I'm looking for
Are right on the other side of that wall
How do I get there from here?
My eyes are flitting, ticking time bombs
I like my alone time, lone wolf adventures,
Plugged in, unplugged, cityscape, outbound, whatever.
But I need house shows and young punks.
Drunk nights (I may or may not be drunk) and water guns
filled with beer? that'd be interesting.
Be patient, give it time. You're not done yet,
You're still young. Get through the probation,
Show them you really mean it, actually try
And relax because you're good.
Watch it take hold
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 2:28 PM UTC
I don't click
I'm a healer when I get attached
But now I'll try to limit that
I love music from every era but the
Past is most comfortable to me
I make tributes to those whom I love
But I remove them when times change
My only love is brotherly
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
The city is a morgue, as I look into the night
Each one is his own lord,
governed by a flashing light
No graceful compensation, where he broken hearts adorn
Utopia the nation, where all new souls must be born
a candle wick is burning, sending fire it's own way
You even may be learning, in the mire day by day
and who am I, the victim, who must stop death when it calls
Or banned by the restriction, of the shadow as it falls
The desert is a sea, made of sand like heat's own toy
no open arms are reaching, where the laughter comes to end
the hour's for beseeching;
Go wherever fate will send
An opera of the future, put itself onto the stage
the mind in need of nurture,
sometimes cries in mournful rage
And who am I, the dreamer, being backed against the walls
now the ray becomes a streamer,
and the shadow as it falls
The island is a loner, needing nothing but the breeze
and I am but a roamer, seeing promise in the trees
No heaven in the distance, at the top of the floating clouds
Thinking of the word "Resistance".
how I feel between the crowds
A windmill gently turning, on and on forever more
for paradise I'm yearning, and the time comes to explore
Hear the echo's bouncing vision,
in the deepness of the halls
I must make the last decision
with the shadow as it falls
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 9:35 AM UTC
I have come to find myself having lucid dreams
I imagine myself as Dr. Cuddi
You are Gregory House.
I am the fixer, the healer, the lover.
You are the destroyer, the addict, the roamer.
I am reclusive, motherly, and protective.
You are the narcissistic, arrogant *******
Somehow, in some way, we make this work,
Even when is takes the millionth time to hold you and clean you up.
Your self inflicted wounds, your suppressed emotional distress that is linked to your addictions..
You make life a puzzle and we both like puzzles..
I can make love to your eyes, hold your crippling being, undress your mind, and make you mine..
I don't even have to try.
You can try to refute..
You can try to run, but in the end, we both know that all along
This is what we were meant to be.
We were made for each other.
You're the only one that I want to run back to regardless of the senial things you do.
I'm the only one you keep in your dreams regardless of the number of *** partners you undressed by seams..
And at the end of the day..
I will always be there to say,
"It's okay. I love you."
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 10:24 AM UTC