Rambler Poems - Poems about Rambler

His soul alive when he rambled Hours and hours upon end Being alone with mother nature His one and only true friend Confined, suffocated between four walls He needed to roam free Through the mountainous hills and countryside Of wildlife, rivers and...Read the rest...

I think of how you must have been in bygone days with friends from your boyhood. From things you’ve said, I picture you back then blazing trails and camping in the Cincinnati Wood. And then perhaps you stood a...Read the rest...

As a weary rambler, I'm nearby and resting. With arousing, he grasps his ecstatic settling. His withered bones are currently lively. It's been done multiple times formerly. Bequests themselves with musings to meditate. His danger is...Read the rest...

All of the roads this bold rambler took were narrow and dark; a half-moon hung very low displaying its melancholic mood never turning mellow... it had a perplexed glance as if it wondered how he mistook its somberness as...Read the rest...

Chorus: The countryside rambler refused to be confined in an institution of experimentation and be abused; escaping civilization was her will to find freedom, to see the new spring bloom and chase butterflies: all she wanted was...Read the rest...

He was roaming, rambler with no luggage, Never quiescent, but work-less always. He was loving, sparkling at all times; But not devoted to what needed everyday; In need of sheds he got amorous to shadows! To finish he found...Read the rest...

“Write me a Poem,” she said. "Paint a Picture for me with words." "I want to see, hear and smell what you write" "You can choose the subject". "But don’t make it sad." “Write me a Poem,” she said. "Don’t make...Read the rest...

My ’65 Rambler in 1979 i learned to drive in a 1965 turquoise rambler three on the tree cracked, dusty leather smelling like an old fisherman’s boot the sun spotlighted that car bouncing off of the irreverent turquoiseness wherever I went like a giant florescent...Read the rest...

i made my alliance's in the roar of the gunblast. the battle had spilled out my head and into vile colour. morning's no longer softly handle my shoulder. they run ragedly round my hand's and feet like rat's. my...Read the rest...