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A body with hands like maps Allow me to trace your highway veins Intertwine your fingers in mine And learn my roads, my cliffs My body yearns to know your story
A whistling in the air, powerful, thirsty, compelling one to stare. A shift of a gear, and away he flies, a blur in one's eyes. A scream of power, of love unseen, as he rushes down the mountain ravine.
As I dwell on this long and lonely road One everlasting mile away from home You see me on the bench, jacket zipped Book open in my lap, my head dipped Poetry in motion,
Take a road on the jet-black highway, You are about to embark on a new adventure, The scorching sun hits the surface as the heat waves rise, The eagles fly high above the flower-decorated cacti,
when he walks into the room, there is no room, only people there are no people, only faces and names only voices and thoughts his nonexistent pen glides across the convolutions of his brain
It was nothing but a blurAmidst the insecurities of life Hasty decisions Jumping into conclusions Hiding blemishes Closing gaps In betweenBroken roadsPerfectioning one another's flaws
Eyes were like a window Transparent as glass Revealing nothing but the slate concrete and ruffled grass beyond them Gripping his sky-clad hand hard, We trekked down the quiet road
Flying down the South-East highway,Saw some blue eyes facing my way.Push my foot down lower, lower,But my car seems to go slower.To catch those blue eyes is my goal,Yet to do so will take a toll.
we plan for futures that aren’t even guaranteed. each day, looking forward to what the sunset will look like,
Brush strokes over a canvas, Waves, like roads, Like branches on a tree. An old car, papers balanced on the dash, The weaving highway a snake, Glints on the horizon of sunset-red.
As we drift west 'neath cotton wisps and buttes, Cerulean and pearly white combine To mock at spinach-green and call it mute, And point it to the highway's yellow line.
I neither love nor care what they say about me I am my own and my own is me I am the one who will decide where I go I am the one who is traveling this road
Weeks on end this fog has not lifted It blurs my vision and my mind's nerves are racing crashing, connecting, circling tangling itself with this dense fog. Today, the skies are gloomy
I left my house, a night, now long past
I have memories attached to curves in the road, moments encapsulated by long strentches of highway. They return briefly to existence as I travel them; anxiety trembling in
Walking down the street,The cold and cracked pavement,Avoiding the glares of the people that we see everyday.Just the same old faces,In the same old places,Doing the same damn thing,
A girl walks the perfect road Sun shining bright like always Day after day Sadness does not exist For she knows not what it is She continues to walk this perfect road
walk continously walk endlessy and see the diverging paths there are too many too count for they show the entirety of man some lead to pain others to darkness and some to love
The country road is a dusty strip of asphalt extending farther than the eye can see The edges are frayed, crumbling Cracks pepper the road, a few randomly tarred over Little to see in any direction keep running.
Volando, volando donde se ve todo pero no vives nada. Volando, volando Paso por amigos Pero nunca conozco Volando, volando Me trae la educación Pero de un vuelo no sirve.
In the dark of night and day, Forgotten, ghosts cry their mournful song, The ashes in their billowing plumes sway In the dark of night and day.
I thought I knew the road and where it leads; I came upon the fork and felt so sure, Until the trees in shade began to tease; My confidence was shook, I closed the door. My heart is closed and locked, I am afraid;
The Path Bright Red sweating wagon With its dirty dusty decay from the long journey Treading in the muddy dark land Carrying natural pieces of the past, in its rigid black rubbery tires