Penniless Poet - Poem by michael Smajda
I travel, alone, to far places,
My mind, at times, wishes me to see,
Exotic thoughts my penned hand releases
In verse, prose fashion for posterity.
I am never given an itinerary
Nor even a definite length of stay,
Much less even a guaranteed stipend
For words I've written to this very day.
Comments about Penniless Poet by michael Smajda
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- TelevisionRoald Dahl