For the enjoyment of poetry and its creative process



Current Poetic Challenge

Poetic Prompt # 30

Write a poem on the theme of "journey." 

Poems List

Below are poems received in response to the current poetic prompt
Submit your poem: To submit your poem for the poetic challenge / prompt with the Poem Submission Form (see top of left panel) or email your poem to me if you know my email address.
- Glenn Currier, Editor / Owner 

By LaTanya Michael

Taken without thought,
The second I move, I have agreed to not be left behind
I choose to dream
I will not die
I move, dragging or soaring,
I move- on
One step
One step at a time
I choose life
I choose this life
I choose this journey

"Journey," Copyright © 2017 by LaTanya Michael
Posted August 6, 2017

The Rocky Mountaineer Journey
(mountain train trip)

By John D. Call

Like an immense serpent
the Rocky Mountaineer winds its way
over, around, and through the great Canadian Rockies,
from Vancouver, British Columbia to Jasper, Alberta.

From the blue distances to the near at hand
its windows look out
upon the beauty of the land –
climbing high across the passes
and near to the great snow masses
that will, in their time, melt away
swelling the streams below.

No two trips are alike,
for with as little as a passing cloud’s shadow
the face of a great mountain is changed,
so also the patterns of sunshine and shadows
across the expanse of a glacier
or through the pine and aspen
or upon rocks in a stream.

Finally we gain the snow line.
Here in glaciers and gullies and packs
there is constant snow present.
We cross over the Great Divide
where melting snow flows to the sea
in three directions – a kind of holy trinity
and nature’s metaphor for change and transformation.

And the inhabitants of these mountains –
the bears, the elk, the mule deer, the moose, the bighorn sheep,
and the marmot –
does it not touch a resonant chord within us
to see our kin in the high thin air –
wild and free?

And the Rocky Mountaineer
winds its way over, around, and through
the great Canadian Rockies,
from Vancouver, British Columbia
to Jasper, Alberta.

Fabric of Time
By Roland R. Ruiz
Audio of Roland reading his poem WMA version - MP3 version

Is death the breeze, which blows away
The very fabric of time
Will it come quickly like the winds, which sway
In the hidden notes of a forgotten chime

Within the silence of a throbbing heart
Exists a calmness the nature of necessity
I wonder will this destiny soon depart
Towards clouds of peace created by reality

Opening a gate to the unknown
Exposing a lonely trodden road
I've never traveled before yet knowing I'm alone
Bedazzled and feeling the pressure from the load

I trek beyond my mortal fears
Towards a goal I hope to make
Amid the moisture of flowing tears
I take control for my very sake

Hearing the death knell of the breeze
It shakes the outer edge of time
Forcing the trees to drop their leaves
Enticing my soul to wither and pine

Leaving this place of contentment
I'll gather new thoughts within this ride
To all that waits in wonderment
With open eyes and sorrowful pride

I wait to greet my fate

"Fabric of Time," Copyright  © 2017 by Roland R. Ruiz
Written July 13, 2009
Posted here July 22, 2017

Oregon Passages
By Glenn Currier

The dark oaks’ gentle rhythm
caresses the faltering twilight
and a dim sadness creeps
into the receding day -
a pendulous cloud upon me lay.

In the hotel room
a hazy hint of doom
my limbs are weary
my mind made bleary
by the thickness of the day.

Mind you, this is but one moment in a journey,
but the glories of last week are swiftly fading
the darkness, a stealthy force invading.
I even wonder if death
might actually relieve
or even lift this aging me.

In my early sleep
images gently pass before me.

The greenness of Oregon,
its forests of fir sublime
snow-capped mountains to climb
beaches and surf
flung from the Pacific’s
awesome depths.
Images and memories
of this emerald State,
and its coastal cottages
breach my fatigue and float me
into comfort and the peace
of deep blessed sleep.

I awaken from these restful wanderings
wondering about the passages of this journey.

Yes, we traveled the outside:
through babbling bubbling Portland
up and down Eugene’s hills
Salem’s capitol, shops, bars and grills
we drank craft beers, ate fish and chips,
spoke of the coming solar eclipse
storied ourselves to the sea
saw gulls and kids play in sandy glee.

All of these you could see, snap and post.
But the hidden passages strike me most.

As this journey ends
I reflect, I feel, I soar
through the opened doors
and windows - I see inside
what we’ve tried to deflect or hide.

Behind my tears she saw the pain and gain
heard my weakness when I’m drained
saw the joy in my little boy
finding gifts and a big man’s toy.

I watched her speaking with her hands
walking gently as if to caress the sands
not sparing self-critical comparing
telling stories of movies and hikes
and trips across America on bikes
I saw her in her sparkle-eyed girl
heard a woman who been in
but not of the world.

Maybe leaving this body behind
is not so horrible and baleful
not so very unimaginable
as when I was young
for now there are fewer songs unsung.

As I began this ballad
I was down and pallid.
And it’s true - the surprises of my life
are no longer popping or rife
with excitement and the new
of audition, graduation and debut.
Instead, now I’m alive and wild
with journeys of faith and love
hearts made of gold
and serene searches of soul.

“Oregon Passages,” Copyright © 2017 by Glenn Currier


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