Drifter Poem by Troy Cochran

Drifter

Rating: 4.5


Aiming high, and hitting low.
Some days it's all I can do to drift.
No one to see, no where to go.
Living life by the seat of my gift.

When all my lips can do is spit complaints
I want you to know:
My tongue was always aiming straight
It's just that my teeth are full of holes.

What I mean to give, and what unfolds
Depends. Sometimes I swaller what I meant to send
Or pass along the dollar that I meant to hold.
I bend to give an ornery feller a helping hand
and only pass him wind.

Wednesday, October 11, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: blues,giving,humorous,intention
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Living by intention, but dealing with a rainy day. I always aim to lift my sights ~ to see beyond my landscape ~ but dealing with existing conditions when they are not that great, I tend to hassle my own imagination, like a sculptor in frustration who punches the clay. That is not the way to create your day, but sometimes it is best to just let go of everything on your mind and simply drift with the stream for a lazy while. That is a small piece of my rather homespun philosophy, anyway, but that's all you get for two cents.
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