Scratching at the Seams
Posted: Fri Dec 12, 2014 2:26 pm
This poem accompanies Peter Mayfield's interview for On The Road - its a bit jumbled as a stand alone poem and is designed to stitch together his own narrative...here 'tis anyway
When you’re eyes see horizons and your feet itch to move
With nothing in you’re pocket and nothing left to prove
With a heart full of hoping that will not go away
And no other way of knowing because it’s always been that way
It is time to take that road no matter where it goes
And see what the road shows you, no matter what it shows
Seeking out the lonely spots and honing in on dreams
Sifting through the sands of time, and scratching at the seams
Strip away the surplus stuff that occupies your space
Trim down to requirements for any time and place
Distill that to the essence of what you need to do
You will learn that wants are many, but needs are very few
make your plans accordingly, prepared to sacrifice
The pleasures of the easy road, the occasional vice
Setting up your journey for the pay-off that redeems
Sifting through the sands of time, and scratching at the seams
We all get to walk upon the earth for a short time
We may find each other’s wanderings as simple or sublime
We only learn what has been learnt and uncover few new facts
Each of us making our own mark upon some well worn tracks
We inform each other’s journeys in the stories that are told
Looking out for anything but holding out for gold
Especially the parts that start to show at the extremes
Sifting through the sands of time, and scratching at the seams
The footprints of our tiny lives will slowly fade away
Leaving traces for the ones who’ll come to search another day
We all return at some time, wherever we may roam
It’s the memory that we share with other hearts that calls us home
Though the road will offer brief respite, and its own brand of care
For there’s a different kind of treasure in the stories people share
But its not the gold that glitters, it’s the solitude that gleams
Sifting through the sands of time, and scratching at the seams
The produced audio can be heard here. http://hullyjoe.com/andrew-hull/projects/on-the-road/
h
When you’re eyes see horizons and your feet itch to move
With nothing in you’re pocket and nothing left to prove
With a heart full of hoping that will not go away
And no other way of knowing because it’s always been that way
It is time to take that road no matter where it goes
And see what the road shows you, no matter what it shows
Seeking out the lonely spots and honing in on dreams
Sifting through the sands of time, and scratching at the seams
Strip away the surplus stuff that occupies your space
Trim down to requirements for any time and place
Distill that to the essence of what you need to do
You will learn that wants are many, but needs are very few
make your plans accordingly, prepared to sacrifice
The pleasures of the easy road, the occasional vice
Setting up your journey for the pay-off that redeems
Sifting through the sands of time, and scratching at the seams
We all get to walk upon the earth for a short time
We may find each other’s wanderings as simple or sublime
We only learn what has been learnt and uncover few new facts
Each of us making our own mark upon some well worn tracks
We inform each other’s journeys in the stories that are told
Looking out for anything but holding out for gold
Especially the parts that start to show at the extremes
Sifting through the sands of time, and scratching at the seams
The footprints of our tiny lives will slowly fade away
Leaving traces for the ones who’ll come to search another day
We all return at some time, wherever we may roam
It’s the memory that we share with other hearts that calls us home
Though the road will offer brief respite, and its own brand of care
For there’s a different kind of treasure in the stories people share
But its not the gold that glitters, it’s the solitude that gleams
Sifting through the sands of time, and scratching at the seams
The produced audio can be heard here. http://hullyjoe.com/andrew-hull/projects/on-the-road/
h