A DRIFTING MAN
On a road of travel without any end,
Rests his weary body wherever he can.
Sleeps in the night hidden from sight,
Days' of length, the next stop is any place.
From town to town he wanders with hope,
Worry fills his head about that next meal.
Find a job and stay in one place a short while,
Friends and smiles disappear with the miles.
A drifting man sees much of the land,
Meets many faces, lonely where he stands.
A price he pays to live in such a way,
There's a gift in seeing the world,
What's taken away is the peace of settling in
He chooses a path, he's a wandering man,
Today he's here, gone again.
You conveyed that conflict so well. You cannot have both, yet both have something priceless. If one starts early enough, maybe he can have both ways of living one after another.
Very good poem, Keith, it is moving.
A man who’s, constantly on the move, trying to find something missing in his life, and, will, never feel settled, unless, he can, calm himself on the inside first…
Another great poem.
I have a question that I was curious about regarding poetry writing. In my writing group, we usually measure our productivity by word count. For me, for example, I like to try and write at least 500 words per day at least (I don’t always succeed 😆). However, I think that productivity for verse writers is a different measurement than those working in prose.
What do you consider to be a good writing day as a poet? Do you measure in words, or perhaps in lines of verse? I’m interested in your opinion and perspective on this.
There are times when I get into a long poem, mine aren’t usually short. I have times when I don’t want to write.