Tag Archives: poem about travel

Journeys

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Journeys

Every conversation is a quest two people enter
from opposite  directions to converge at its center.
The hard part of the journey commences with their greeting—
an intricate endeavor not completed with first meeting.

With each new associate, we visit a new land.
With each conversation, our horizons expand
into lands exotic, tragic or entertaining.
Perhaps enemy territory—often with no training.

Do we take umbrage with their words or enter, unprotesting,
the world that they offer—experimenting, testing
new mental mountains, jungles where vivid birds might call,
beckoning us onwards, or do we meet a wall

that offers us no access—sealed up, rigid, cold—
closed to all explorers, nearly obscured with mold?
What journeys do we offer ourselves to those we meet?
Do we offer easy access or promise sure defeat?

Life was designed for journeying. Daily, new vacations.
Some conversations novels and others mere quotations.
Some trips an experience you wouldn’t choose again—
just another whistle stop on life’s commuter train.

 

The prompt words today are quest, umbrage, intricate and associate.

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2019/01/16/rdp-wednesday-quest/
https://fivedotoh.com/2019/01/16/fowc-with-fandango-umbrage/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/01/16/intricate/
https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2019/01/16/your-daily-word-prompt-associate-january-16-2019/

A Fine Vintage

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A Fine Vintage

Roving has been in my blood since I was just a  kid.
In hide and seek, I ran away while other kids just hid.
I’d stash myself six blocks away where they could never see me.
I couldn’t wait for age and circumstance to come and free me.

Other kids had tantrums, but I just had my dreams
that took my sheltered sedate life and split it at the seams.
It never once occurred to me that it would be naive
to think that after high school, I’d pack my bags and leave.

And after college in some place exotic in my mind,
I’d be off to travel with others of my kind.
I’d have a travel bonanza to Africa and France.
I’d even go to China if I had the chance.

Was it precognition or simply intuition
that all of my  travel dreams have come  to sweet fruition?
Everything I sought out there, each thing I hoped to find
I found in all those years that now I find I’ve left behind.

Now that my world is smaller and I’m more content,
nonetheless I still have memories that I can vent.
They’ve percolated in my mind as I cure and age
until they’ve aged sufficiently to pour out on the page.

 

The prompts for today are tantrum, roving and bonanza. Here are the links:

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/11/01/fowc-with-fandango-tantrum/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/11/01/roving/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/10/27/daily-addictions-2018-week-43/bonanza

The Smell of Curry

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The Smell of Curry

Would that sentiment were only
positive and never lonely––
but all emotions of the world
in sentiment are tightly curled.
Every memory we cherish
is doubly edged with “live” and “perish.”
In every city, country, land––
bad and good go hand in hand.

The blend of cardamom and lentil
always makes me sentimental.
Odors of turmeric and its ilk,
garam masala and coco milk.
Curry spices being roasted,
degree of peppers being boasted,
chickpeas, carrots, potatoes, rice––
stirring in each thing that’s nice.

What do I think of when I smell
and taste that it is going well?
Bombay and wedding saris thin
sliding down my youthful skin.
Visions of a midnight ride
to cages with young girls inside
sold by their parents and then resold
nightly for a bit of gold.

Traffic, sitar music, fingers
scooping curry––all this lingers.
The beauty of that winsome song
that showed me where the world’s gone wrong.
His action, swift, unthinking, curt
of small coins cast into the dirt
to deflect those who beg and bleat,
surrounding us in every street.

Palaces and then the clash
of children in a world of trash,
the refuse of this giant city
the world they lived in—what a pity.
Back when traveling was new,
experiences were so few
that India changed my life forever.
So, will I forget it?  Never.

Since it was a journey that changed my life forever–both the physical journey through the streets of Bombay as well as that journey of the senses I go though every time I cook or taste a curry, I’m rerunning this poem written two years ago for the dVerse Poets’ Pub prompt of “Journeys.”

Travel Light

 

 

Travel Light

After packing all my things, my check-in bag’s so spacious,
I wonder if it’s possible to use one less capacious.
For me, my act is radical. I decide to take one
suitcase I can carry on, so packing was no fun!
I’m carrying no liquids so there’s nothing to secrete
and ooze out of the overhead onto my head and seat.
My actions here are radical—I’ll be gone sixty days.
(After this trip I may find this decision is a phase.)
The quintessence of the matter is I’m not taking a lot—
a departure from the usual of taking all I’ve got.
No toothpaste, shampoo, makeup, hairspray, shaver, hair dryer, pills.
No medicines for indigestion or my other ills.
Only one light jacket  and layers for the cold.
I’ll wear my single pair of shoes, for more my case won’t hold.
My personal item will contain computer, hub and backup,
my purse and jewelry and snacks. I hope that I don’t crack up.
Lugging all this stuff today through four airports  I’ll visit
is perhaps a bad decision. It isn’t sane. Or is it?
United changed its policy, so it makes sense to me.
For this and all my later flights, I’d pay a baggage fee.
Guadalajara to Montana, later Saint Paul and then St. Loo,
Then back again to Mexico. I’d pay more than a few.
I’m really not a cheapskate. It’s the principle of the thing.
I’d rather use that money on a bracelet or a ring—
some tiny thing that I can pack in a space that’s tight.
I’m committed for this single trip to simply traveling light!

 

To be clear, tomorrow alone, I’ll be visiting four airports: Guadalajara, Houston, Denver and Billings, Montana. Then in three weeks to a month, I’ll be flying to St Louis, possibly St. Paul, St. Louis and then eventually back to Mexico.  That’s a lot of checked baggage charges!! In addition, I’ve ordered material to bring back from the States so will have to check at least one bag from St. Louis to Mexico. Thus, the decision. Let’s hear a round of applause for tight packing! Thanks to Yolanda for her assistance.

 

The prompts today are radical, quintessence, secrete and capacious. Here are the links:
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/30/fowc-with-fandango-radical/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/30/quintessence/
https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/09/30/rdp-sunday-secrete
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/09/29/daily-addictions-2018-week-39/capacious

Random Travel

Random Travel

There’s precious little rectitude in knowing where you’re going.
Straight lines are only called for when you’re writing or you’re sewing.
I think there’s room in travel for a little ingenuity
so long as you don’t coddiwomple on in perpetuity.

The words today are ingenuity, rectitude, precious and coddiwomple. Here are the links:

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/08/27/monday-prompt-coddiwomple/
(To coddiwomple is “to travel in a purposeful manner towards a vague destination.)
https://fivedotoh.com/2018/08/27/fowc-with-fandango-ingenuity/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/08/27/rectitude/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/08/26/daily-addictions-2018-week-34/precious

Late Check-Out

Late Check-out

The camera battery left in its charger in a motel in St. Louis,
my batik sarong left gracing a hostel bed in Jakarta,
my only pair of shoes in Timor.
A pair of Levis in Singapore,
my diary in Tanjung Pinang,
my swimsuit in Sri Lanka.

I am lost all over the world,
and this is why, five minutes after
my sister has gone down to check out of the St. Paul hotel,
I am rechecking the beds and desk tops of our room.

My bag packed and zipped at the door,
my purse and computer case propped next to it,
I sift through soggy towels in the tub,
open the closet door once more
to rattle empty hangers,
check each plug socket on each wall.

 

“Check” is the Ragtag Daily Prompt today. This is a rewrite of a poem written three years ago.

Proddings

Proddings

I guess that it took gumption to stray so far from home.
Who knows why certain people are driven so to roam?
For certain, curiosity plays a part in it—
a proclivity to action, a resistance to just sit.
A passion to be accurate in finding all their pieces.
A need for further education after school ceases.
But I can’t help but feel that there is more to it than this.
It isn’t only fearing those things that we might miss.
There’s always that small feeling that we do not belong––
that sense of isolation from the local throng.
It is a bit like pushing the odd fledgling from the nest
who does not belong. The other fledglings may know best
who would belong best elsewhere, and speed them on their way.
Odd ducks who display gumption or creative ones must pay.
And in becoming targets, they are prodded to depart
to find other places where they can make their start
to finding who they are in life—places where they can see
all those different people that they might be meant to be.

East Timor, 1973. Off on a long adventure

These word prompts were made use of in the above poem:

RagTag: https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/06/16/rdp-16-target/Target
Daily Addictions:https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/: Accurate
FOWC: https://fivedotoh.com/: Gumption
Weekly Prompts: https://weeklyprompts.com/: Home

Foreign Tongues

Portugese Timor, 1973, Setting off on a WWII Troop barge into the Timor Sea

Ciao, Adios, Auf Wiedersehen, Adieu

When I was young, I traveled far
from Germany to Zanzibar.
Australia, Bali, France and Spain,
to Africa and back again.

And though I mostly loved them all,
from Venice to the Taj Mahal,
as my departure time grew nigh
I had to voice a sad goodbye.

To Ethiopia I strayed.
For eighteen months I stayed and stayed;
and when I had to leave too soon,
I had to say “dehena hun.”

In college days, when I was young,
German was my foreign tongue;
but when to Frankfurt wir mussten gehen
I just remembered, “Auf Wiedersehen.”

The French were rude and cold and snotty.
They mocked my accent and were haughty,
so while I had to bid “adieu,”
I’d have preferred to say, “pee-ew.”

Florence thrilled me from the start.
Their lasagna is a work of art.
When I left, they all said, “Ciao.”
Their kitties, though, all said, “Miao.”

I never went to Israel
but nonetheless, I’m proud to tell,
the rabbi books? Read every tome.
So I know how to say “Shalom.”

Though “Arigato” is bound to do
when you want to say thank you,
Sayonara” is the way to go
to bid farewell in Tokyo.

Bali’s full of dance and art
that treat your eyes and fill your heart.
I must admit, I had a ball
before I said “Selamat tinggal.”

Mexico was saved for last
And now I fear my lot is cast
Since “Adios” I cannot say,
I’ve decided I will stay!

The prompt today is foreign.

Inelegant Obsession

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/elegant/

Inelegant Obsession

I’d love to be elegant while I’m obsessing,
but if I told you how, I’d only be guessing.
The man at the counter said yoga’s the answer
to two hour waits, and smart cars and cancer.

I told him that yoga’s more easily done
in my pool or on mats spread out in the sun––
Not two hours before midnight when you’re feeling sad
’cause the car you pre-rented is not to be had

and instead you’re confronted with a Jeep Cherokee
with all bells and whistles included for free!
Yet each feature they’ve added is cryptic and puzzling.
Screen like a space ship and gasoline-guzzling.

I can’t find the lighter to plug in my Nuvi.
The radio screen is showing a movie,
but I can’t find a plug to plug in my phone
and I’m out in this parking lot, stressed and alone.

After one hour of standing and waiting to rent it
and one more in the parking lot, how I repent it!
I go on the road in the inky black dark
with no place to stop and no place to park.

My GPS empty of power and knowledge,
to find the right route would take training in college.
No route numbers have I, I can’t see the map.
My phone out of power sits limp on my lap.

The screen gives me options for stations galore,
but no arrow to choose them, just one button more
for feature after feature that I cannot use.
I wish I had knowledge.  I wish I had booze!!!

When I try to turn on the overhead light,
the moonroof zips open and try as I might,
I can’t get it closed but just open it more,
so the wind whips my hair with a terrible roar.

I’ve always loved traveling wild and free,
but it now seems travel’s evolved beyond me.
Where is my confidence and my elan?
That air of achievement, that air of “I can?”

When I get to the motel two hours in arrears,
when the clerk asks how are you, I explode in tears.
I tell him my story, like a silly old fool––
but he doesn’t snicker and he isn’t cruel.

“See that?” he said, waving a hand at my phone.
He shook his gray head and gave a small moan.
“Don’t know how to use one–not me nor my wife.
It seems like technology’s plaguing our life.”

He dished out a Kleenex and almost at once,
I found I was feeling much less of a dunce.
I may be a fool and an old one at that,
but it’s so reassuring to share that coned hat!

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This control board of the plane I flew from Prince Edward Island to Nova Scotia on is slightly less daunting than the dashboard of the Jeep Cherokee they pawned off on me as a replacement for the simple economy car I requested. The flight took one half hour. Renting the car (even though I’d filled out all the paperwork on the internet) and figuring out how to operate the monstrosity they gave me took two hours!!!

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The beast!!! I still haven’t figured out how to turn on the radio and tremble at the thought of mistakenly turning on the four wheel drive.

I later snapped a photo that better illustrates the size of this car.  See that photo HERE.

The prompt word today was “Elegant.” This was stretching the prompt, but I had my own agenda.

Dreams of Flying

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Dreams of Flying

Lying on my back in clover, I was sky blue––
wishing for the wings of night
that lifted me, unsurprised,
to hover and then swim the air
above the ordinary.

Sixty years later in the green Pacific,
buoyed as expertly in the waters of reality
as by my dreams of youth,
I see blue sky above me
and know I am a part of it
even here below
where I float in the arms of ordinary,
knowing it to be enough.

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https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sky/