Desires of the eternal wanderer
Are never gonna be satisfied
Even with lakes of abundance
Endless mediocrity
Is running through her fingers
Laden with trumpery she bends
Deprived from hope she screams
Without a whit of pride she begs
And the platitudes are flying
Right back into her mouth
Somewhere on Earth poets are sleeping
Covered with their quilts of white pages
Millions and millions of blue birds
Are going to welcome you
And the tireless tornado of your memories
Official Homepage of Amrita Misra
small, mortal, prone to mistakes, yet seeing the brilliance in all.
The Poetry of Pablo Saborío
somewhere between teal and turquiose
Thoughts and reflections. Mostly inspired by literature, art, cinema, poetry, music, theatre. And people. And the experience of being alive.
find a place that makes you happy, and go there...
"He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God. Many will see and fear, and put their trust in the LORD" (Psalm 40:3).
Even better than my Post-Modern Afterlife
dionysian obsessions and less dramatic digressions
Collection of thought, extracts, photos and anything else.
& Metaphors
NotYetHere
A poet's exploration of their own mind
Poems by Friar Gordon James
creative writing & photography
The discovery and recovery of an oak meadow
Self Conscious.
Know the Soul ~ Know Thyself
MON'S CHAMBER OF THOUGHTS 
When will the poets awake? 😀
Once the inspiration comes 🙂
Quite true. 😀
Very nice. There is such familiarity in this piece. Such pained rootlessness, which I was not expecting, having grown so accustomed to wandering that I miss it still. You would think that in the steps taken there would be a newness, a freshness. But instead there is a past life following you. And voices that cling to you still.
I love it when I enjoy a poem even when I haven’t figured out what it means, just because of the amazing combinations of words. Beautiful…