"wonderer" poems
"Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving -
It does not matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come,
Even if you have broken your vow a thousand times.
Come, yet again, come."
-Rumi
Lover of Leaving.
I wonder where that comes from.
Abandoning ideas,
or the idea of abandoning people.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 3:55 PM UTC
Whenever
His
mind
needed
a
workout
He
started
to
daydream
May 21, 2019
May 21, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC
Drawing things I cannot see,
Listening,
Keenly,
Too the strange things,
Coming from,
the albino dressed pavement smoothed,
Bedroom walls,
Braille textures,
slipping like termites,
or a strange smell,
dancing from the dusty old lady haired vent,
on the ceiling,
Braille raindrops,
escaping from your,
soul window sill,
fog,
gets in the room,
and we light cigarettes,
purple scented totem poled candles,
with out near future,
melting,
and dripping on the wooden counter-top,
which we dip our fingers into,
sticky like petroleum,
sticky like the sap from a forest broken snapped,
tree limb,
which we tasted,
which we ran danced hollered and orgasmed,
like the melting candle,
like the sapped,
broken kansas public tree limb,
and i,
took off your,
orange dress that you stole,
though only a few dollars,
i called bonnie,
you called me paradise,
though we danced gleefully,
in the slums snout snarling broken home windows,
pot-holes,untied shoes,untied fathers,lovers planning paradise,
inside the blue 80's oldsmobile,
with the stereo turned low,
low like the quiet hummingbird song,
of making love,
in the cold night,
under trees,
that was old,
and had probably seen many lovers,
come and go,
as its Fall leaves grew wings,
as its,
winters balding scalp,
scattered away,
like a field of dandelions,
or the birds,
that flew from nests,
only to fly south,
or like wise boxcar boxcar dharma bums,
sat on telephone wires,
at the intersection,
where two lovers planned paradise,
in the back-seat,
of a blue Oldsmobile,
and the night,
holy night,
and i,
**** mind wonderer without wings,
or sad singer leather boots harmonica whiskey drinker,
and Her,
white as stars,
dancing in a blind choreographed orchestra,
in the sky,
far,
far,
far,
even the highway,
has no exits,
to see this performance,
So i sit on a rock,
smoking a cigarette,
with a Fools smile,
as I,
watch beauty,
from the Key-hole,
that is,
Solitude.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
I shalt be one's ravaging Viking
Exploring her wonder's,
Wherein man hast not yet seen...
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 5:41 PM UTC
*I often ask why
Wondered from the depth of my soul*
*Could it be that destiny hear my calls
Will it shed a wish upon where water falls?*
*The tilt shift of colors burned my wall
And I astound, I wasn't aware at all*
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 8:03 AM UTC
Hissing near my window, as if the cobra were striking
screeching audible like the bald eagle of injustice were diving
haunted cities of poverty parading delinquency like a soldiers ribbon
little brother that receives the backlash of disturbance in his home and abroad
as if a whip were cracking, the angry, grotesque whip of prejudice.
lonely wonderer click-clacking through memories that toll the scroll
and through tears and acceptance and black holes of the mind,
to survive this circus tent that is no more a fantasy than it is just,
no more a joke than the joke itself
and only cruel cowards and ravenous robbers are laughing, pointing
sharp fingers in our faces and shrieking about revenge.
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 9:53 AM UTC
The world, I have always wondered.
Wanting, wishing and waiting to see
The things that lie right under.
Through countries, cities and people I'd meet
my drive at last was conquered.
I hope my dreams come back to me.
That the world regains its wonder.
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 9:53 PM UTC
Lost child afternoon
green pick up truck
cigarettes silver lipstick gold'n red
red like the horizon
in closed eyes
in
underwater blankets
where
Tiny fish and clams and beer bottles swim
Lost Child Afternoon
Gorgeous road signs
laying like a dog
with women of Florida purity alligator tongue
laying like a dead fly
on the carpets chest
resting like a mother
resting like a newborn Larva
like a newborn seed
grasping onto a Nebrask-ian breeze
A'hoy
A'hoy
the sail boat of life
is casting out
give us
give eye
a penny for a ride
for a passser-by
2 pennies to love
3 to keep the love
and 4 to
come back to shore
come aboard
come aboard
the whiskey is
practically gone
practically free
Wear some boots
because it rains
and the mud is thick like hair
the flowers of life
bow like magnificent dream girl eye lashes
questions balance on a blink
come aboard
life seeker
life conquistador
life Apollo 11'er
life
wanderer wonderer
life protagonists
life main character
life 10 dollars
life love affair
life
30 years old
in dog years
Life
Mexican SunRise
Life
A.M.
Life
take her out to dinner
she put on
25 dollar lipstick
to imprint
to stain
your
offered
cigarette.
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 2:11 AM UTC
Our relationship has always been bumpy,
harboring nothing more than hatred and discontent
towards one another.
A part of me held hope that things would get better
between you and I,
between mother and son,
but
the words
you said
that day...
"That's your problem - always asking why. You need to stop asking questions all the time, and just do what your told."
In that moment
I knew
that all hope was lost,
for your son is a wonderer
and will never stop wondering.
Until you understand that,
I guess you'll always consider me a misbehaved brat.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 10:04 PM UTC
Moment
Too many changes
But solutions are slow to be found
Expectations are too high for reasons
And time passes to fast to accommodate the task at hand
Should I bend the boundaries and
Plea for salvation to hurry and assist
Maybe I’ll insist to exit on my cue
That is why I call upon you
Can you guide this wonderer to an oasis?
Maybe you can point to a place where I can fish
My heart devours the loneliness of the mundane
Day to day
But in your arms to the end is where I lay
Bidding farewell to puddles on a rainy day
My lust paved the road for our emotional reward.
-Alexis J. Meighan-
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 8:47 PM UTC
The proof of past times.
The warning of the lost minds.
Who is more sane?
The man in suit and briefcase in hand.
Or the man who's cup jingles all covered in rags.
One clone circuits through the track never to win the race he runs.
The wonderer thinks on greater things but he's the only one.
There is no soul within the clones.
There's only ever wants.
To be accepted, labeled normal.
The manufacture never stops.
The few and wise are weary.
They see the soulless dancers.
They understand that man's diseased.
The Earth's very own cancer.
It's funny how they think themselves to be as good as good can be.
Then **** the world around them.
If they have hearts, they do not beat.
They trample truth beneath their feet!
They give no hope to those who seek!
They say their strong but THEY ARE WEAK!
THEYRE ALL AFRAID TO BE UNIQUE!
AFRAID OF TRUTH AND HUMBLE LIFE!
THIS MASS IS COMMITING SUICIDE!
FOR THEIR OWN COMFORTS AND LUXURIES.
YOU ALL ADD TO THE DISEASE.
but i am only one small voice.
They cannot hear above the noise.
They are a selfish loathsome thing.
The clones converge into one being.
They have no mind to do whats right.
They follow wrong reject the light.
BUT I WILL YELL AND SCREAM AND FIGHT!
BECAUSE I HAVE NOT LOST MY SIGHT!
I FOLLOW GOD AND SOMEDAY SOON.
He'll loose his rage.
To all untrue.
Jul 18, 2011
Jul 18, 2011 at 9:22 PM UTC
Why worthy wonderer, whispers no words
About fleeting feelings falling featherlike,
Better than bickerings boasted about
Sweeter than sugary surreality.
Truly a challenge to change nonchalant
Thoughts and then think so thoroughly that
At once and all over; obviously, we ought
To learn love in life like a listening lot.
Say, sharper than a sparkling star-filled sky,
Simply, I sigh seeing sight of your eyes.
Proven so purely precious prized promise,
Marvelous mystery making me most meek.
And although all acts are always adored,
No one knows nothing nor never alone.
Really, rough loving rivets writing wrists,
Yet you, I yearn you, yes, your yearning of me.
How had my heart helplessly heed no hails,
Empty of every eager everything?
It is indescribable, indefinite, infinite.
We would be the world's wishfulwise wonder.
Come clean, conclude, close calmly this cast.
Admit all affections are ardent and awe.
Truth telling ties tongues too tight to twist--
Here, have my heart, hear hopes howling hell.
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 9:29 AM UTC
Here the girl goes.
Plucked a bunch of hobbies,
From the dream lobbies.
Stemmed, rooted in her soul,
She garnered hard, to let the diamond shine out of coal.
Looking all around; fields of roses, she is a wild daisy.
Trying hard to find a way, but its all hazy.
All she wants to create a masterpiece,
Her hobbies, passion divided her hardwork in pieces.
Her mind fragments trying hard to lookafter every art she knows,
But under human capacity, it is difficult to be consistent in every art she knows.
She knows it all, yet she is lost,
She is the ballet dream dancer and too a host.
Enjoying a ride with dreams,
Stars aligning in a row and scattering gleams.
A wonderer, over thinker she is,
Thats the worst part yet the best it is.
Chasing soft breeze and a sudden switch she wants to travel in the speed of light,
Star gazer she is, admirer of dark night.
Light is her home, dark is she allures,
When dark lives within her, light she creates,
Beauty may be she isn't, she thinks of,
But a beast out of art colours she creates.
©heeranshimishra
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 5:52 AM UTC
Is this what passion feels like -
Lingering in the nook,
Created between damp lips met in soft quiverings?
Idling saucily in the bowl that,
Balances in my shoulder -
Dripping down my chest, to my breast
And resting...
Does passion taste sweet,
With a hint of anger,
That sounds like,
If one's lips won't suffice,
The teeth will?
Teasing with fury,
As if tempting the jury,
Peeking down at one,
From above.
---
Or, is passion the heat,
That arises between,
Two lovers, merely,
Sharing a kiss?
Jul 18, 2011
Jul 18, 2011 at 1:45 AM UTC
If it means for the next 3 days you do nothing but eat apple butter and pizza toast , then so be it. As long as it is you who is feeling this. Being guilt tripped be fear happens to us all. But recall to oneself that fear is
False Evidence Appearing Real…. that and 5 long breaths should clear any fog.
Do enjoy yourself….. life is not about pain only. Subjective are the connotations of things like pain and fear , death and war. Do see them as rough materials to work with. There is too much ( and i’m not the too much police , believe me.. ) There is too much wonder in the cosmos for life to be about pain only.
I am a thought artist , an astral creator , a realm wonderer with purpose.
Dig deep and hug that fear , transmute it and in the process aid another being who is stuck , woman … do your good in all the nooks and crannies…. see how light it makes you feel , see how whole it makes you feel… see how centered it makes you!
Do trust.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 2:51 AM UTC
I am the road-paver,
I am the stone-setter,
the aimless wonderer.
Not a second glance
as I lay the manse,
but not a chance
that I receive praise
for this golden runway
on which you will parade.
But, how lovely is she
dancing content, so free,
she makes it look so easy.
I'm not one for pride
but dance shoes worn and dried,
yet only given a small aside.
I am the road-paver,
the stone-setter,
the aimless wonderer,
don't mind me, I'll just be
keeping quiet,
because I know better.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
when i think of the word
beauty
i think of
the canvas of your skin painted with
every little freckle
every nostalgic bruise,
the galaxies inside your bones,
the celestial bodies glimmering in your eyes
your curving lips that hinted
a smile brighter than a multitude of stars
your voice softer
than the french crooners we listen to
every gloomy evening
when i think of the word
beauty
i think of no more but you
and the cosmos that hid under your skin
and how i am merely an wonderer
and you are an entire world to explore.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 12:14 PM UTC
I have been wondering, I guess ages by now.
Searching, seeking that Promised Land.
I looked as far beyond the horizon.
Where it might be, I asked?
I have been searching, I guess ages by now.
But where am I to go?
I’m still wondering ten forth, ages by now.
I think I am lost, it seems.
I am seeking, I guess ages by now.
But still haven't found.
Oh forgive me my lady.
I should have stayed, I grieved.
I am thinking just by now.
Oh what a foolish man I am.
I just wasted that precious prime.
Searching, seeking something never meant to be found.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 9:15 AM UTC
Ever the musical wonderer, he happened
upon the perfect pad it harmonics were
excellent for the voice he had.
Through the day he would sing, he would
try other locations. The shore, but the waves
would splash out his unique sound.
Trees were a challenge specially for those
rather stubbly knees. But he jumped and
Sang an for his troubles a splinter he had.
Under water was a choose but sound was
but bubbles that rose above, not sound but
more like burps with a tune singing out.
He went to his spot, many had he tried so
long had he been gone from home to long.
The best spot for the acoustics choosing of his voice.
But too his sorrow it was gone, had it been taken?
moved away? he sang on the shore in moonlights
glare as tears interrupted his angelic serenade.
But it had heard his voice and from the depths it
raised, it had missed its companion gone all these
days, it slowly opened it took a night and day.
For when it was ready the frog jumped with joy,
not with a splash, not a belly display. He landed
gently on this pad and his music did play.
The flower did blossom at such a harmony,
and not of the usual colours, for each petal was a
moment of this frog unique beautiful sound.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 4:47 PM UTC
Ant people is what they are
teeth clattering together
out-coming syllables of
insensitive, insufferable nonsense
Pinchers cleaning after a feed
Some revolting alien dialect
Smash them, then
into the gravel
back to the maze-caves of the Underworld
the holes from which they jitter and twitch
but then pause to stretch cold joints
long, black armor-limbs
blink blank eyes upon the new sun's light
They too bask in its rays, like I
awakening the mind for another grind
warming sleepy muscles to pursue crumbs of bread
Like I
So smash, no
let them crunch and spit out uselessness
Just play instead an in-head voice-over
a compilation of wonderer's revelations
Let them crawl, let them be
slowly exoskeletons shed to flesh
antenna's recede to shags of brown
framing lively eyes
pupils recognized as Human
Humane
Words are intent
should be meant as the sun
beams to progress the colony as one
We are the same
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:46 PM UTC
Spring has come once again.
The dawn breaks, caressing the Earth.
The aged wonderer marks his course,
Setting out for another journey.
Walking for many days and scores of miles,
The wonderer finds a shady tree calling his name.
Sliding his haversack off his shoulder
He rests his tired back against the tree.
As his eyes begin to close,
His mind begins to roam a world of dreams
Concealed to him before now.
Many days of peaceful slumber pass.
The wonderer at last awakens
Ameliorated for the first time,
Since he was merely a young lad.
Despite his urge to stay,
He knows he must depart,
For the uncharted road awaits him.
Just before leaving,
The wanderer bows to the tree
Thanking it for everything it has given him,
Hoping, maybe someday his journeys
Will lead him back to the Celestial tree.
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 4:51 PM UTC
1. January- Patience
Patience is difficult,
Not attainable,
Elusive,
Far away,
Doesn’t come easy,
I need it
I wait for it
Patiently.
2. Feb- Uncertainty
Uncertainty is a reality
I can’t run away from it
I can’t not accept it
I can’t let it not flow in my world within and out
I can be aware of it
I can accept it
I can let it be
I can let it go…
Uncertainty is certain.
3. Mar- Hope
Hope is knowing that dawn is near
Hope is knowing that winter turns into spring
Hope is that I can get up every time I fall
Hope is in moments that count and blessings that surmount
Hope is in smiles, in holding hands and in every breath
Hope is life.
4. April- Exhaustion
Exhaustion is in my exhale
Exhaustion is in yearning for silence
Exhaustion is numbing
Exhaustion is mental, emotional, physical
Exhaustion is losing the wind beneath my wings
Exhaustion is starting all over again, yet again
Exhaustion is in giving- giving- giving without a pause
Exhaustion is need for a pause…
5. May- Self Love
Self love is life’s elixir
It’s a tribute to my existence
Its what I owe my being
Its love that unifies and makes me love others
More fully, more authentically, more truly
Self love is in my yoga
Self love is in my evolution
And embracing it fully
Self love is indulgent and also disciplining
Its non judgmental and inspirational
Self love is what I am most loyal too.
6. June- Anxiety
Anxiety is mirroring those closest with anxiety
And compounding it
Losing it
It’s a struggle.
Its real
It's not a happy space
It settles with a pause, with distancing
With distracting and with facing head on.
Anxiety- Real, Tangible, alive
Anxiety- needs strategies, needs to be tamed.
7. July- Friendship
Friendship is real and authentic
It’s not in years
It’s not in agendas
It’s not in plans
It’s in real conversations
Real sharing
Real giving
Real taking
Really the answer.
It makes us be better than we are
It lets us be the way we are
I have so many friends and each one
Has a different place on the ship.
This ship is traveling somewhere from nowhere
Friendship- Real and thriving…
8. August- Rest
Rest is cuddles
Rest is deep breaths
Rest is pause
Rest is a cup of coffee and my kindle
Rest is silence
I need rest…
9. September- Vitality
Vitality is buoyant
It is springy
It is “lets do it”
It is karma
It is action
Vitality is on
Vitality flows
Vitality is excitement and energy
Vitality is throbbing
It is life and being alive
10. October- Peace
Peace is alignment of mind body and soul
Peace is calm
Peace is within and around
Peace is a choice
Peace is facing problems and resolving them
Peace is active
Peace is my succour
Peace is OM.
11. November- The future
The future is hope filled
It's what I patiently contribute to
In the present
It's my acceptance of uncertainity
Its evolving
12. Dec - I am
I am a butterfly woman
A spirit child
Unfolding, evolving, nurturing,
Resilient, strong, capable
Magical, Sparkling and real
I am the wanderer and wonderer
I am dawn each day!
- MSD January 2021
Jun 13, 2021
Jun 13, 2021 at 10:51 AM UTC
I just need for the rain to start
It may be the only way to wash my heart
I’m melting here in this corrosive apartment
(This room cost far too much)
Apart is what is meant.
I’ve got questions spinning around in my head
like a hurricane uplifting nonsense to wound my sanity
Will love always break me?
Why does emptiness feel full?
How can “nothing” consume me?
Will there be flowers left after the storm?
Will there be someone to place them in my hair?
I don’t think it’s healthy to sit on this stool
surrounded by colorless mustard walls
How foolish of me to have lost my way
A way is all a wonderer needs
Away is where I need to be
What is it that took my pride
And my solidity, and my grace, and my height?
And my hands?
No, no more.
I just need for the rain to start
It’s the only way to wash my heart
Nov 19, 2010
Nov 19, 2010 at 6:40 AM UTC
The companion of the night, she shone
Her ethereal wings would glide sewn
To each other never apart never alone
They would purr a tune, never a moan.
She was of a mortal shell where light
Was entwined in the now diming night
Her home was a tiny enclosed shell
It was entwined with many a glyph spell.
She was a wonderer of old, her cloak
Of shimmering teal, gently she spoke
There voices would whisper upon air
Features of beauty blessed with onyx hair.
Glimmering in fog snared surroundings
Her light shone and all fell in its sounding
It echoed pulsating though the clouding
All that was hidden her steps she was counting.
Where eyes were blind now sight regained
But her little friend exhausted and drained
Into here shell she did rest and slumber away
Thanks to shimmering light she found a roadway.
Sleep well my friend I will whisper a spell a word
Spoken to recharge your spirit even though unheard
Humming upon the surrounding darkness
She missed her companion in this unforgiving harshness.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 4:03 PM UTC
Three kids sitting cross legged in a homemade shed
A trifecta, if you may
A band of crickets screaming prayers into the humidity
One recounted stories of robots in the high school hallways
All laughing and golden, whispering empty epitaphs into the abyss
Singing songs of nothing to a comfortable god
One spoke of aspirations shrouded in cigar smoke
A life of more than mother's wishes and monetary muteness
Being caught between stagnant calculations and hammered guitar strings
Lyrics tattooed the back of her teeth, curious wonderer, light wash grief
Questioning the deities found anywhere but her circle of friends
And we must sacrifice ourselves to rock bottom
One drank a singular beer and couldn't see straight
A hole in a head, filling fast with all those secret woodland soliloquies
Like for the first time, she could see
Clumsy ankles treading through the over brush, love or lust
And how should we go on living through these nights fated to end
There was a soundtrack to our revolution,
Haunting hymns over the busted stereo,
Love poems washed away with morning
But the night sounds
Oh, the night sounds
The holy ghosts in moonlight reflecting off the leaves
The sacred rub of skin on skin beneath the moribund trees
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 11:57 PM UTC