"trips" poems
Nan,
I wrote this poem for you to keep
As you lie peacefully asleep
To share the stories you once told
Sat in your chair growing peacefully old
I will always remember those days
When I sat up to the table studying the maze
Of thousands of puzzle pieces in my gaze
However I was never fazed
Because you were always there to guide the way.
I will always remember your trips out and about
Although never adventurous I felt,
McDonald's and M&s; without doubt,
Were you favourite places to walkabout
I will always remember your creative flare,
Your knitting needles and you cross-stitch squares,
how you could sit and chat, yet knit with care
Always seemed so unfair
But most of all, I wrote this poem to say thankyou
Not just from me but from all the family too
For the wisdom and knowledge you once shared
For showing you loved us and that you cared
I wrote this poem to say goodbye
As you watch us from up high
I remember all the fun times we had
As my friend and as my Nan
And I miss you more than words can say
I hope we can meet again someday
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
I live a life of unfulfilled dreams.
trips never travelled and sights never seen.
words never written and photos never taken.
a world full of wonder and I sit here unshaken.
one would think of glorious adventures ahead,
but I'm just trying to find a way out of bed.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 4:18 AM UTC
Dear insecure, emotional, overthinking young man
you've come a long way from way back then
you've lost a lot - but had to realize "who hasn't?"
your strong will seemed to be mistaken a lot from your passion
you've missed out on a lot of love by second guessing & never unmasking
why weren't you truly ever satisfied... nah, that's the question that I'm asking...
your abandonment issues pushed away the potential of something ever lasting
constantly fighting the man in the mirror
hopefully with your new life - you see things clearer
no one ever knew, with you...who they were gonna get
you've missed out on a lot of good times wanting to talk
instead of just letting it go and enjoying the time you had left.
Your favorite pills were self pity, self indulgence, ignorance and regret
you never stopped to listen - stopped talking - hopefully now you allow others words to be said
no woman stood a chance... you purposely acted a certain way to avoid the possibility of true love
discretely pushing them away until they saw nothing and had enough.
don't get me started on your lack of living
missed out on a lot of trips, chances and opportunities
I hope now you've filled that void that is missing
you swore happiness was wealth... power...a line of respect
little did you know it was the little things; the calm, the moments
the people and things in life worth it and willing to invest.
you gave up on a few dreams... figured why fight?
countless times your mind would just run... keep you up all night
you were so afraid of success... honestly, I never knew why
you never freed that little boy trapped - stuck in his father's grasp
he was begging for freedom, you left him struck inside
everyday was another day you thought was your time.
**I hope you live now
I hope you see the beauty life truly is
I hope you found love
I hope you found this**
I needed to write this letter to you - so you can see how far you have come
you can see that change is real
you can see all that you have become
Bland Douglas Simpkins,
that's the man you should be proud to be
no matter what challenges you were faced with
those obstacles were needed, needed to make it to this me
thank those who've came into your life - not all were meant to last
some forced you left - others showed you right
no matter what, some were needed in your past.
So...
Dear future self,
please understand - I'm sorry. For all that I put you through
the truth remains - that without me - just know...
there would be no you.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 7:14 PM UTC
Your life is made of distant springs and falls,
a straight route is not
what you own
for hurricanes and storms divert your path
to new horizons.
Will you find horseshoe ***** mussels, clams
on the stopovers?
Food awaits you
if the shores are not ravaged
by human greed, ignorance.
Your resilience is written in B95's ordeals,
a mosaic of adventures ingrained in his own cells.
The threads of your trips assemble
the places of Mother Earth connected in its roles;
nothing is detached in the collective harmony of souls.
Red knot shorebird,
peaceful messenger,
icon of strength without rage,
your story is the universal flight of awareness
waiting to be heard.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
For centuries philosophers have speculated the role sleep plays in society
But it was not until the 1950s that sleep woke up in academia
And today sleep studies show what dormant minds really look like
Information about our rest we've never seen before
However, I've always understood the importance of bedtime
You see my parents taught me that sleep and love are soul mates
My mom
She's the sleeper
She loves to sleep
She cuddles up on any piece of furniture in my house and snoozes for hours
Never views a sitcom past the first commercial break when she's tired
And she's okay with that
Dad never lets her drive on road trips when night falls
Preferring his sleeping beauty tucked safely in the passenger seat
Their hands meet as she lets the stars serenade her to slumber
While he anchors his left hand on the steering wheel
Thanking his lucky stars for his real life princess
My dad
He's the snorer
He loves to snore
He roars like a lion on his love seat and naps for hours
Never views a sitcom past the second commercial break when he's tired
And he's okay with that
Mom never lets him sleep alone too long though
Keeping his nose plugged strong enough to signal for bedtime
They both stand together as he lets her guide him to slumber
While she ushers her left hand around his back
Thanking her lucky stars for her own prince charming
Now my parents call me the dreamer
And I sure do love to dream
It seems my parents are textbook role models for me
Because when you live inside a fairytale for far too long
Your reality becomes an endless stream of fantasies
Your expectations are exceptionally out of context
Strictly written for poetic lines in picture books
Never meant to be held
Never meant to be felt
Only meant for spines stuck on rosewood shelves
My parents call me the dreamer
And boy I love to dream
I believe in creating the unthinkable
And when you live inside a fairytale for far too long
Nothing is fictional
You picture a life with storybook endings
Praying the author never runs out of ink
You crown each syllable the king of the moment
Treating each page like royalty
And I've always been okay with that
So when I asked my mom when she knew she fell in love
She spoke of an instant of unadulterated emotion
She said she knew instantly
She didn't need to sleep on it
When I asked my dad when he knew he fell in love
He just smiled back at me
He must have known instantly
He didn't even speak on it
So when I ask myself when I might fall in love
I can't help but smile
Think of fairytale titles
Mile wide love notes in all shapes and styles
And a moment where my reality sets my hopes on fire
And I won't need to dream about it anymore
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
The Buddha slept under the night sky on His back
eyes open; fearless love looked up. humbling the majesty
of the Void's gift.
eyes fixed... both peerless.
first among equals.
but transcendent.
The Buddha,
wearing grass-stained robes
chose a blank spot
for a blank stare
" Nowhere Girls are EveryWHERE "
He thought, astonished.
a moment after
where once He stood
there Was No
spoon.
[ PART ii ] NOT THE KOAN BUT THE KOAN THAT YOU GOT
on the X-ray zen splints were clearly spidered webs in ghost bone... how should I feel that my sensei saw the X-ray first?
life is where the answer to this question is a real thing draped in ominous clarity like a town fool, the beggar foreclosing
on your house of cards, the winged swine and some guy named Patrick having a smoke in your face; the mailman, who
always looks so serious about your trivia in a blue hat... who always trips over your precious dying very potted plants!
yes, all that, or maybe not. saute some fresh green kale in olive oil with fresh garlic
[ give it to me ] and i'll tell you that was very thoughtful, and right then;
it would also be
true.
for a minute there... you and i were typing you reading this part.
these are the diamonds.
my exposure to the radiation is everlasting in the middle of it's brief long duration
my ghost bones wear new flesh like iPod headphones, don't hate the player
[ better yet ]
make a macaroni necklace. go wild. be reckless.
it'll cost you an ounce of real kimchi
from the motherland
with the ugly
sister.
i wouldn't put it pass you. cause that would be clairvoyance, and you already know!
a loose tooth entrenched in candy apple can't taste your stupidity but has bad dreams!
some people will always look at you the wrong way and appreciate
how you sat perfectly still for hours; you only took a break to suggest
a better room with southern exposure to eastern thought.
when you threw in a Tripod, they knew you were somekinda somethin'.
and they knew it all along
but juuust wasn't
sure.
and kumquats are quantumly eaten.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 2:22 PM UTC
Your suffering is always greater than mine,
you claim your fears are bigger.
Whine your feelings are better than mine,
insist my feelings are simpler.
Try to laugh my feats away like a joke,
but my will is more forward than yours.
Now don’t expect any warmth from me,
my spirit won’t be ignored.
You think you can quiet my defiance?
But I'm used to standing alone.
Your ego trips never get old
they only harden my resolve.
So you timidly try and silence me,
then make excuses to escape.
‘Cause your wits won't handle me long,
I’m the one you can’t sedate.
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 9:54 PM UTC
Road trips with old cars
With ski racks and kayaks
Park and open the sunroof
And we can fall asleep
Gazing up at the stars,
Or at eachother, whichever
Who's up for a long escape?
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
I lay awake in bed one late night
Letting memories wash over me
When a memory wondered into my brain
A memory of my childhood
Back to late nights
Just as this one
When I was cuddled up
With my soft big blue blanket
It was torn at the edges
One edge missing completly
It kept me worm in the winters
Made a great fort in the summers
Held me tight during nightmares
Wiped my tears when I cried
Let me rest in its vast softness
Made an elegant dress for dress up
The best padding for play fights
Made for the best tug-of-war
Between my brother and I
It made me feel at home on long trips
Kept me company
On the couch when I was sick
Now where is my
Cuddly childhood blanket?
In a box in the attic
Waiting for once again
When it can be held tight
In the arms of a child
May 1, 2012
May 1, 2012 at 2:21 AM UTC
Last night I
had a dream that
you died.
Everyone we knew
came, said their I’m-so-sorry’s,
and
left, filtering out the front door
slowly
like sand through a sideways sifter,
leaving behind pieces,
words and memories
and casseroles I
could not taste.
And the whole time
everyone was here,
you were here, too.
I could hear
you, smell
you, feel
you.
I could feel you
surrounding me like the ghost of the baby blanket
I once had and could never leave at home.
I loved you here and here you would stay, with me,
and now you would never leave.
I could keep you.
You were bound to me.
But the ties that bind are tight and you did not like me leaving.
You could not go with me and
you
accidentally
and without words
by holding, enveloping,
suffocating
you told me
that you did not want me to ever leave again.
So I stopped.
I stopped leaving.
And the calls stopped, too.
The invites. The lunches. The impromptu trips to town.
All unnecessary noise.
The people left. And then it was just you and me.
Until one day I saw what you had done.
Tripping
I glanced in the mirror and saw.
You had etched yourself into my face.
Dug with your nails
terrifying ravines
escaping the corners
of my eyes. Pulled down
my mouth and every
shallow natural valley turned to
deep empty bowl, hungry and wanting.
My eyes no longer held light.
I saw this, all evidence against you,
and I still loved you.
You had hurt me in ways you never had
while you were here – here – and I knew.
And I still loved you.
Slinking up the stairs
I called you to me. I felt you surround
faster than before and
closer, tighter, colder.
Suffocating, stifling and
so destructive in how you loved me.
Slowly but faster
I grew to know
I would not become you and
you would not become me.
We were stuck on other sides of the mirror.
I was so angry
at what you had allowed me
made me
begged me to become.
Realizing
I gasped and put
hand to heart
it hurt so.
I stood upright
how long have I been bent
took in one long deep breath of stuffy air
how long since I opened the windows
and called you to me
when have I last heard a voice not my own
called you to listen.
I felt the loss of everything else
friends
family
adventure
excitement.
Nothing was left of that here
and I was so angry
and I am so sorry
and I yelled
I screamed
I roared
why are you still here
why are you making me like you
why did you come here and
hold me
and keep me here with you
I am not the one who is dead
and I said
and I regret
and I am so sorry
I can’t have you here
go away
and
leave me alone
and you did.
You left me
all alone.
Why would you leave me?
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
Two years into adulting.
It’s possible, who knew?
I look the same as yesterday
But today I’m twenty two!
Dentist trips still freak me out,
Sometimes I burn an egg.
My blanket covers both my feet,
So monsters won’t grab my leg.
I don’t go out on Friday night,
My ankles feel the weather.
And when I help the kids with homework,
We both learn math together.
Sometimes I’ll burst out crying
For no reason at all.
I know the words to one rap song,
And still prefer guys tall.
My puns are all intended,
There is a spoon I hate,
I’ll never mix my whites and brights,
I can’t stay up too late.
My life has been a wild ride
But I’m thankful for each day.
One day I hope to be mature,
One day... but not today.
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 4:07 PM UTC
I can’t do this. It’s not you it’s me. I think we need to put this on hold.
All things that girls say to him as their future relationships unfold
After being mistreated, abused, neglected, rejected and taken advantage of he just can’t take it anymore
Because these girls didn’t realize that for them, he would cross the seven seas, climb the highest mountain and so much more
He was the most dedicated person when it came to his relationships
Staying up all night, 5 am calls, thoughtful gifts and maybe even surprise trips
But even doing all of that, the girls didn’t realize how special he was until it was too late
He still didn’t let the hurt bother him because he knew that he would find his true love someday by fate
Until then, all of his relationships would end with goodbye
Because he was the unappreciated guy….
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 8:59 PM UTC
midnights still find me retracing the moments
that led to our thousand lakeside kisses;
they were secrets left in a summer dream.
each second — a bowline knot
leading straight to our
late night drives
and vehicle breakdowns
and last minute goodbyes
at the break of dawn.
midnights still find me sleeping
next to a shoebox of the books you left;
i still hear your voice
when i read the lines
of your favorite paragraphs
the clock hands, mocking,
leading me through a maze of
memories and parking lot conversations.
midnights still find me rewriting histories
with resin-pressed flowers,
maybe the petals will point to where
i started losing you —
and maybe it's in every direction.
the black, bold numbers have become my crumbs
leading to road trips and
to all the bus stops we missed,
kissing;
now i still miss my stop
without your lips next to mine.
and midnights still find me
writing poems like these
but clearly,
you're too far off
for these words to reach.
and now, midnights still find me wanting you back.
and 'til now, midnights still find you gone.
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 7:52 AM UTC
what my forays into online dating offered me that wasn’t s*x; european coffee beans, a film camera from the 70s, a workshop on ceramics, chicken parmagiana, bottles of blueberry lemonade, thai food that isn’t spicy, help with calculus homework, notes on gen chem, all the Star Wars movies, a book about magic: the gathering, a ride to an nba game, museum visits, nature walks, impulsive road trips, stories about their exes, silly anecdotes, photos of their pets, quality memes, awkward hugs that felt good.
such small intimacies, never blossoming into something bigger yet still imbued with meaning..
filled with what-ifs, if-onlys, and almosts.
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 10:32 PM UTC
My favorite moments
aren't significant at all.
It's rolling over in the morning
to see you lying there,
trips to the grocery store,
you lying on the floor
with your head in my lap
while we listen to music.
I read my books and you play
video games or surf the Internet
and we don't speak.
It's skateboard dates and
car rides where your hand rests on my leg
just to grab an impromptu snack.
No, my most treasured moments
don't seem like very much,
but they're my most precious
possessions, and I'd give it all up
to keep having these little nothing
moments for the rest of my life.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 4:37 PM UTC
With every affirmation
My tongue trips over the unspoken
Unrequited acceptance of current circumstance
My submission is insulting
Unbelieving, you see my lowered eyes as an attack
Belly up
I am confused
Unsure of what movements are appropriate
Frozen, doe-eyed and exhausted from the constant dance
Do I bow
Do I speak
Merely acknowledging my emotions
Sends shockwaves through the tentative peace
I was not built for this
A goddess prostrated
Stripped of her very core
Caged and chained
But it is almost as if my very attempt to accede
Is a declaration of war
What kind of existence is this
Trapped between personage and possession
My only purpose is to please.
Allow me.
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
The Super Wolf Blood Moon Eclipse
Into its orbit quietly slips
Eclipse the Super Wolf Blood Moon
The fork drives away with the spoon
Moon Eclipse The Super Wolf Blood
It trips and falls into the mud
Blood Moon Eclipse The Super Wolf
Growls “Ha!” ‘cause nothing rhymes with “wolf”
Wolf Blood Moon Eclipse The Super
Cleans up the mud with a little scooper
Super Wolf Blood Moon Eclipse The
Shines bravely over my favourite tree -
The moon always gives us such delight
Especially on this frosty night!
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 1:30 PM UTC
The butterflies have since moved, not migrated, but moved.
No trips planned ahead nor any reason to return.
Inside, the battle rages on:
To love, to forgive, or to forget?
Outside, experiences fill voids.
Like a Band-Aid on an open wound:
Temporary.
Love is a powerful tool.
Hatred is a powerful tool.
Indifference may be the most powerful.
That internal skirmish ceases and the external
emotional trips drift further and further away from that lonely island.
The move has been dramatic, yet necessary now.
At the start, it was a city;
Full of life and people and things to do.
Then the suburbs, less people, less things to do.
Next was the island: alone and isolated, but tranquility.
The homemade raft sets sail for a new destination.
Will it arrive in a bustling city port?
Or arrive at a small dock along a river?
The snake sheds it skin to begin anew.
Forget the genie and make your own bottle,
Write your own message,
And write your own history.
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 5:17 PM UTC
I feel you, I really do.
Guess what my father wasn't there too,
a bunch of substitutes but no one solid.
A bunch of institutes couldn't give me solace.
You'll wonder about fishing
and camping trips too.
You'll wonder about shaving
or using a tool.
You'll learn from your friends
some of the above,
then you'll learn on your own
and feel so unloved.
You'll get into trouble
and a couple of fights,
you're living and learning
its the way of life.
No worries though,
I'm here to tell you,
If you give it you're best they'll see the value.
So don't fret my boy for I am you, keep faith stay strong and you'll make it through.-JS
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 5:52 PM UTC
As thick as sin,
With multiple lips,
Climbing up the walls,
I guess she's taking trips,
Smokes everywhere,
Hell started in the room tonight,
Wouldn't even hurt if I had to put up a fight,
Cuts on my face,
The preacher still praying now,
Everybody is dead in the party but their not laying down,
Sometimes I fight with my mother,
There's nothing that could make her proud,
They say, You said it would be alright,
I keep on saying,
For now.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 9:50 PM UTC
I would've given birth
To you,
Endured whatever
Mothers do.
Instead, I did
What Dads do.
I rocked you
Til my future shook;
Watched you til
I couldn't look.
As you changed,
I changed too,
To do the things
That Dads do.
You were bathed,
Dressed and fed;
I loved you so much
I was saved.
If there's credit,
Well, I get it,
For teaching you to read.
I took the blame
When you got bored
With school's ABC's.
I followed you
In all your roles,
Your teams,
Your solos,
Your trips,
Your shows.
First to clap,
Last to sit;
I taped it all,
From start -
To finish.
I taught you
How to tie a lace,
Ride a bike,
Golf and skate.
When time arrived
For you to drive,
You learned
On standard,
Never stranded,
You came home alive.
Your highs
I took in stride,
By example taught
Humility's pride.
Your lows,
I couldn't internalize,
I dropped my guard
With my eyes.
When Dad's do well
It's a double edge,
The future wedge.
The world
Revealed
Desired you too.
I don't dismiss
What mothers do,
But when Dads do well,
Both lose you.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 10:12 AM UTC
I grew up taking hits from my big brother,
I grew up on "boys' weekend" camping trips,
I grew up with my father calling me a princess but calling my brothers rock stars,
I grew up watching Boy Scout meetings from the back of the room,
I grew up on LEGOs and Hot Wheels and
I still remember the year my brothers got Nerf guns for Christmas
and I got a bracelet,
I remember being shot with foam bullets and having no way to fight back,
but at least I looked pretty.
I remember seeing my dad leave for work every morning
and wondering why my mom never did,
I remember wanting to be an astronaut, but my brother told me
moms have to stay home.
The phrase stop being a girl is branded into my mind
and I still curse myself every day
for the organs I was born with.
I remember the year my brothers went as zombies for Halloween
and I had to go as a princess,
I remember bringing a fake butcher's knife
because a princess is not scary.
I grew up on manhood meaning strength
and manhood meaning confidence
and manhood meaning respect
and I still wear dresses
and my dad still calls me a princess
but I'll be ****** if you tell me I'm not a man.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
You know, there's always a song that takes me back
To a year, so long before
It's not always a top ten song
That hits my very core
It just grabs me and transports me
Back in time while standing still
It might take me to a good place
Release a memory I should ****
But, my soundtrack is different
It's not just music in my mind
There's sounds that make my playlist up
Sounds of a different kind
A baseball smacking leather
God, that sets me free
Some good, some bad, some coaching
Some involve my ******* up knee
The click on every eight track
When it switches channels to play on
Brings back those early mornings
when the house cleaning was done
But, music, yes the music
makes a large part of my list
Some take me back to dances
And the girls I never kissed
The good songs stretch my senses
Make me smell things from the past
The memories still linger
While the music didn't last
Sirens, car wrecks, yelling
Have their place on my list too
It's not music to most people
It made my list though, who knew?
A sound as small as raindrops
Take me back to a morning when
I stood on line with a hundred others
Brave women and brave men
Cornwallis, Nova Scotia
rain and U2 take me on a track
To basic training on the east coast
Wow, that's 25 years back
A car crash and a siren
Takes me to when I met my wife
This was on the television
when Princess Di, she lost her life
So, my soundtrack is eclectic
It's not just music fuels my trips
It might be a golf ball bouncing
That takes me through a time warp slip
A song, that's just too easy
Everyone has one of those
But, can you travel back, oh, 30 years
When someone blows their nose?
There's more sounds that effect me
But, those I think I'll hide
I will write about them later
And I will take you on that ride
In 50 years of living
Lots of sounds have hit my ears
We'll sit and chat about them
One day over a few beers....
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 5:05 PM UTC
There are too many things
I still want to do with you
Baseball games
in the blistering heat
so I can Instagram our love
Trips to the city
I'll tweet about
just vaguely enough that people wonder
what we did all night
in that big hotel room
Swimming with sharks
getting likes on our Facebook photos
and jealous messages from our friends
Our relationship
was always set to private
I guess I liked it better that way
but whether or not my friends can see it
there are too many things
I still want to do with you
Please don't be done with me yet
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
Cake
You can eat it too!
My frying pan
Is half empty
Hate me
Because I am good
No!
Because I am great!
Michelan Stars
Trips to Mars
Candy bars
Mason jars
Drunk I am
Said the can
To the packet
Of ketchup
Baker's square
I worked there
Line cook nook
Splatters shook!
The kitchen man
Burns the water
The ******** fan
Yearns for slaughter
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 12:26 AM UTC