Caravan Poems - Poems about Caravan

She wore a ribbon red as flame, he carved her secret in his name. They danced beneath the open skies, with stars like lanterns in their eyes. The campfire laughed, the horses swayed, the fiddles sang while nightbirds prayed. Their vows were stitched with whispered thread, "Till death," they swore, "no tears to shed." But Fortune's wheel turned rough and wild-- the lawman came...

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Along the road where moonbeams spill, the gypsy wagons wander still. Their lanterns swing like fireflies caught, each wheel a whisper, each song a thought. The fiddler hums a ghostly tune, that weaves beneath the weeping moon. A tambourine keeps time with dreams, and horses wade through silver streams. No map can mark the path they tread, no stone remembers where they led. They chase...

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A shored life awakes the old patience is a virtue a wondrous light a way for the world one way passage yielding trifles abundant returns nameless faceless novelties in scrolls constant to air The Book of Life accounts tallies clearly visible hidden from sight chance of a lifetime warps through glass bottled sealed....

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The road seems endless Nighttime quickens fear Unfamiliar, a stranger In this bus The air, humid and thick With danger, angry Glances swim upstream Avoiding fallen hate At first, some were friendly As hours and days passed They disappeared, maybe Changing direction, or Means of transport, as Streetcars rattled down the Middle of the road, always Heading back to sadness Women keep their heads Cloaked tightly, not drawing Attention, counting on safety In numbers,...

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In our first years together we bought a caravan The living conditions weren't ideal but we had a plan We moved around a bit so the Council couldn't catch us The dream far too precious to be snatched from us We saved our money, working hard - day and night For the dream we dreamt together was in our sight We...

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Caravan You don’t pick radishes. You pull radishes, bent over Workin’ backwards, ten hours. Rubber band ‘em by the dozen Bushel full, boss pays eight bits. Twenty bushel good day. Band 99 cents at the Kroger. Make it to America, land Of opportunity. Walk for Your children, pull for your Grandchildren. Copyright 2018 Paul M Thomson...

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The earthly experience, a creature of emotion. Counting the turning of worlds, the ecstatic whirling. The Knowing in near real-time, making the heightened moment. To read of yourself in print, detailing your fifteen minutes. All of the revolutions, each one nearing the last one. When the mind learns the secrets, of persistent illusions. The unexpected dreaming, speaks of new destinations. A new...

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================= Caravan Tea From Russia with love smoky fires guard our sleep ...

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The world around us is already running out. We feel it in the air shyly, After all, lies the caravan already on the loose, And a terrible pain somewhere howls wistfully. People will fill in the gaps everywhere, And proudly bear the seal of loneliness. Lucky caravan us lies in the dark, How long will...

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Seems just like yesterday when all this began From a wee one on a tricycle to today on a divan Recalling those days Of a long-ago place When the world seemed simpler on life's caravan...

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Apt 4 Black Door Next Door neighbors moved out Week before last Citing strange noises Rotten stench and an unruly pet And the fact they had never seen , spoken nor met Human nature is to speculate But why waste the energy and time No foul, No crime Until the door is kicked in And the body's are found Lying face down As the children...

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Beyond a sandstorm’s gritty veil, A solitary Bedouin, Like a ghost in a sea of dunes, Rides slowly along in the dusk. The singing of rababah strings Mimic the cooling evening winds; Tambourines and flutes sound sadly From the...

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In the shimm’ring empty distance Of a vast central Asian steppe, A faint and formless shape appeared. A soundless mass of black and brown Rose like a djinn from out the dust Of the long traveled Great Silk Road. As it drew closer on its course, Under a wide and hot noon sky, ...

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The Sheep are nearly to the gate but seem to wait, their shepherd’s late, some are bleating loudly now, others grazing, humbly bow some are wandering far away Shepherd unaware they stray some seem to blame the lowing cows caravanning from the south escaping slaughterhouses foul her calves are bleating weakly now mother, tired, licks their brow hoping shepherds from the North will meet them kindly with...

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Desperate people moving Fleeing heartbreak and despair Traveling towards the land of opportunity, Seeking shelter from harsh rulers, Seeking peace and a better life....

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