Category Archives: Poetry

What is Portland? A Poem

I wrote this poem in response to a prompt on the Blog, Mismanaging Perceptions, which can also be found on the following link:

http://www.mismanagingperception.com/what-is-portland-response-1/What is Portland? 

What is Portland? A Poem.

Portland is cherry blossoms during a warm snap in February

That brings everyone out of their homes

To revel in what is quickly described as an “unseasonal event”

Even though it happens every year

 —–

Portland is a love of place but with a disconnect to now

A desire to occupy the charm of a slower, more intentional time

While finding itself being on the cutting edge

A city of people motivated to make a better future

Although sometimes in image only

 ——-

Portland is a town built on industry and exploitation

That forgets its past as it becomes a town of “new ideas”

Today, people see the glamour in a city that found its place

By pushing out those who once knew it as home

 ——–

Portland is long rainy winters and the best summers on the planet

A city of bridges, a city of roses

Of coffee, of beer, of bikes and of farmers markets

It has some of the best public transportation in the country

But, it mostly serves those who need it the least

 ——–

Portland is and has always been unique, but not always for sale

It’s soul becoming more transparent as it becomes a thing not a place

What makes it beautiful still exists, but only for some

Much of the “livability” disappearing

——

Portland is not a doughnut shop or an image

It is not the businesses that sell us our city back to us

It is not even a movement or a style

 ——-

Portland is the smell in the air after it rains

And people getting excited about “snow”

It’s the way the sun hangs on the horizon in winter

And it’s people who look each other in the eye when they pass

 ——-

Portland is a city divided, although you only know that

If you live on the “other” side

Where walking becomes a liability and you feel

That you are somehow forgotten anytime “Portland” is discussed

 ——-

Portland is beautiful, colorful, and full of life

Portland is my home

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Very Happy New Year to All!

I would like to wish everyone out there a very Happy New Year as we enter 2014! This past year has truly been one of the most amazing of my life thus far and I have enjoyed sharing my photography, poetry, stories and travel adventures with all of you who are following my blog! Thank you to each and every one of you who has taken the time to visit my page and follow my work, I wish you all the best in the year to come!

Cheers,

The Perpetual Vagabond, (AKA-Lauriel~Arwen)

Poem: She Danced Her Way Through the Morning

She danced her way through the morning

The songs of the night before singing in her mind

If anyone could see her they might question such unabashed joy

They might be afraid of such raw emotion

But, she was alone with her thoughts

No one was going to see her smile

No one would see her dance through her day

Her happiness was hers alone

She knew that what she was feeling was special

And never guaranteed

So she cherished every moment of it

And since the music continued to play in her thoughts

She just kept on dancing

flowers-and-bugs-6

A Poem: Out of Reach

I wrote this poem in the summer of 2011 and thought I would share it again

I watched as my heart contracted

My mind teetering on the edge

I noticed how the pit in my gut hardened and sank

And how with each breath I sighed

I watched myself for a long time

I turned inward and noticed my thoughts

They went in circles

Never forward, never ending

My hands were still

As was my gaze

My right foot tapped to a beat that found its way in

Outside it was raining

The drops falling as the dream of summer faded

But, it was still July

The season never came, it was in hiding

Just as my dreams were in hiding

Threatening to break through the fog

But, timid enough to evaporate instead

There was a fatigue in my eyes

I could feel them droop

But, I hadn’t cried in months

Maybe because whom I cared for most

Was out of reach

Nothing else was as sad

And everything was empty in his absence

Out of Reach

I watched as my heart shrank and grew

My mind teetering on the edge

I noticed how the pit in my gut hardened and sank

And how with each breath I sighed

I watched myself for a long time

I turned inward and noticed my thoughts

They went in circles

Never forward, never ending

My hands were still

As was my gaze

My right foot tapped to a beat that found its way in

Outside it was raining

The drops falling as the dream of summer faded

But, it was still July

The season never came, it was in hiding

Just as my dreams were in hiding

Threatening to break through the fog

But, timid enough to evaporate instead

There was a fatigue in my eyes

I could feel them droop

But, I hadn’t cried in months

Maybe because whom I cared for most

Was out of reach

Nothing else was as sad

Yet everything was empty in his absence

I used to be

I wrote this poem in the fall of 2002…I guess my artistic recovery has been a long time coming…

I used to be a writer
Telling stories of love and adventure, comedy and tragedy
I used be a poet
Doodling on napkins and in the margins of long overdue homework
I used to be an artist
Drawing the faces of of those I had yet to meet
And imprinting forever the life I had led
I used to be a singer, a dancer, a composer of music
A designer of clothes
I used to be an activist
Leading the masses to a better world
Creating solutions for sustainable change
I used to play under the light of the full moon
And whisper to the elves living in the understory of the forest
I used to embrace my gifts
By sharing them with the world
I used to be willing to die for my beliefs
I used to find comfort in knowing who I was
And living my dreams