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- 09/20/2016
- 456 Words
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- 12 Comments
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Occasional Poetry - 45. Wanderer: a Tale in Seven Stanzas
em>A line that refused to let me go. I'm sure there are errors and problems. But you will forgive me for them, I hope.
Wanderer
I studied for years and was bored to tears
in my gown and its matching black cap;
and it seemed, my dears, I was in arrears
for the government gave me a slap;
'cause the loans I owed were so overgrowed
I'd be paying 'till seventy three;
so my lone abode was the open road,
fancy free, and with nowhere to be.
Out of college I flew, with naught to do,
and no income of which to dispose;
bidding friends adieu, toward the west I blew,
hitching rides, I would go with the flows;
on a day it snowed, into town I strode,
for a meal I was beggared, you see,
and my lone abode was the open road,
fancy free, and with nowhere to be.
One place I tried to be coffee-and-pied,
but the manager hustled me out,
while I nursed my pride, I saw at my side
someone else who felt sorry, no doubt;
for his pace had slowed, but his face sure glowed,
as I walked in the gutter's debris,
but my lone abode was the open road,
fancy free, and with nowhere to be.
He said, "Seems you need a good friend indeed,"
and I nodded, what else could I say?
So I took the lead, "I could use a feed,
for I haven't yet eaten today."
To his house I was towed, hunger my goad,
where my stomach was filled to a T,
yet my lone abode was the open road,
fancy free, and with nowhere to be.
My plate just had specks, and I watched him flex,
as he gathered my dishes to clean;
I wouldn't be vexed if he'd asked me for sex,
'cause I owed him, you know what I mean?
But he took the high road; instead he showed
me a place I could rest privately,
but my lone abode was the open road,
fancy free, and with nowhere to be.
My mind was confused, 'cause he'd not abused
opportunity knocking out loud,
in the dark I mused, maybe he'd been bruised,
kinder hearted, and yet well endowed;
I tried to decode what his smile bestowed,
and why fate might be laughing at me,
for my lone abode was the open road,
fancy free, and with nowhere to be.
It was then I spoke when the morning broke,
as I wanted to pay for the night;
thought he's almost choke as I heard him croak,
"You believe in a love at first sight?"
It was then I knowed I could lay my load,
and I knew that my heart would agree;
the open road was no more my abode,
for I fancied I'd somewhere to be.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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