He misfits,
wonders silently inside,
keenly down the ancient road,
pavement for the newfound adventurer.

Choosing his tread against the grain,
time to amuse on extinction,
the ordinary become extraordinary.

Side-ways glances over his shoulder,
as people glide, pass singulary by.
Each intent in their own inclination,
all a closely kept “Dear diary.”
An intimate tempered fresco
of their own vain vision.

He has his own distractions.

The souls of leathered feet still shake
off the dirt that judders birds, like disease
the traveller’s thoughts are oft in his head.
Steps echo off the curb, resonate
sparse distant rain in the dry streets,
marking the line into a socialite world.


3 thoughts on “Adventurer

  1. nectarfizz says:

    hhmmm..thought provoking. I like the use of dry sentiment and deep contemplation.

  2. poeticgrin says:


    I very much like the opening phrase, “He misfits” – that is phenomenal and I”m jealous. Also the lonely line of “He has his own distractions.”

    A good read.

  3. Matt says:

    Thanks Bryan, appreciate the comment. The line, “He has his own distractions.” for me, wasn’t meant to be lonely, more of a matter of fact, shrugging and moving on to better or more interesting things (his own writing perhaps)

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