UK Wandering Network (UKWN)
 


Photo by Jane Stokes

Photo by Jane Stokes

Keeping Things Whole

In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what
is missing.

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body's been.

We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.

by Mark Strand
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/keeping-things-whole/


Photo by Jane Stokes


Photo by Jane Stokes

The Wanderer

Tell me, nymph from Knowledge's wells,
are there things to show to me here?
Dizziness seizes me, laughter and terror.
The air has paths that bear!

Alone with you, you eagle-eyed one,
I wander far, so far ascend,
frozen roads, chiming roads
without a goal or end.

All the holy days of love
their evening and aloneness know.
Faithful wait in the evening light
you that search and know.

All that I meet I will leave again.
Nymph, you heal burning woe.
Chiming roads, chiming roads
happy with you I will go.

Follow me hence through life's days,
teach me to say at darkness' door:
'Nothing I knew, little know I -
yet it is more than before!'

 

Karen Boye Hidden Lands (1924) translated by David McDuff

 

Remember Me

When you look into my eyes
and you see the loss and fear
don't be afraid for me or cry for me
Remember Me!

When you see me wander off or take
a wrong turn
don't fear for my safety
take my hand and Remember Me!

When I say something backwards
or jumble my words
just be patient and Remember Me!

When I make silly faces or say silly things
laugh with me and Remember Me!

When I rub my head or look away
I feel the sense of loss and fear
I'm searching for the right turn
I'm searching for the right words
I'm trying to Remember Me!

By Tracy Mobley

http://www.dasninternational.org/2004/TracyMobley/mobley3.php

Read more about Tracy Mobley 'What dementia means to me' - click here


Photo by Jane Stokes

Photo by Jane Stokes

 

The Wandering Singers

 

Where the voice of the wind calls our wandering feet,
Through echoing forest and echoing street,
With lutes in our hands ever-singing we roam,
All men are our kindred, the world is our home.
Our lays are of cities whose lustre is shed,
The laughter and beauty of women long dead;
The sword of old battles, the crown of old kings,
And happy and simple and sorrowful things.
What hope shall we gather, what dreams shall we sow?
Where the wind calls our wandering footsteps we go.
No love bids us tarry, no joy bids us wait:
The voice of the wind is the voice of our fate.

 

by Sarojini Naidu 1879-1949

http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/27170

 


Photo by Jane Stokes

Photo by Jane Stokes

 

Wandering Like Dogs

wandering like dogs,
hungry, wild dogs
out of the wild
rutting through garbage
frantic for a piece of rot
the coveted prize primed
to fill an empty soul
starved for connection

By DM Kraft

http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewpoetry.asp?AuthorID=18919&id=145804

 


Photo by Jane Stokes

Photo by Jane Stokes

 

disconnected

a leaf caught in the wind
cast out by the tree
driven from the land

adrift and alone

tomorrow beckons
but without power
I am trapped in today

there is no hope
save time
 

and time has stopped

By DM Kraft
http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewpoetry.asp?AuthorID=18919&id=120512

To read more about DM Kraft - click here


Photo by Jane Stokes

Photo by Jane Stokes

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This page last updated 08/01/2009 07:56