On My Way

On My Way short poem






On My Way
May winds blow on my back
And push my sails onward
To shore where lies that shack
With roses on its yard
The home of Lady Love
My angel from above

While plodding down the road, I pray:
That I would pass a wishing well,
Or that black cats would shun my way,
Or that I see those lights that fell,
So I could ask a shooting star
Of guiding me to where you are;

It augurs ill, and seems of prospects bleak,
If on my way, a hearse passes me by,
Or should to pieces, I, a mirror break,
But luck, to find a four-leaf clover lie,

And of ladders I know,
Never to walk on space below.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Reyvrex Questor Reyes

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
♪ ♫ Well, I guess, it could be said that if my knowledge and wisdom were converted to wealth, I may humbly say, in all honesty, that I am not a millionaire. But if out of my two cents, you would agree to accept one of it, then, I could proudly say, in all modesty, that I have done charity.♥
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

2 Comments on "On My Way"

Notify of
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Editorial Board

Such an endearing poem, feelings all people in love would have experienced, all th signs and omens so wonderfully described. Cross our fingers and wish you well too!


My Only Friend

My Only Friend short poem

Am I Alive, or am I dead? Is this all just a dream inside my head? I feel like I’m losing my grip. Quick say something, anything before I slip. Nightmares slowly creeping. Has he finally come to do the

From My Journals ‘love’

From My Journals love short poem

The very essence of love is uncertain, A relentless thumping of the heart. I must speak to you by such means as they are within my reach. He pierces my soul driving me into madness. I am half agony, half

My Friend Crystal

My Friend Crystal long poem

I am the women that hasn’t been able to lose all her baby weight. I am the dad that works two jobs and always gets home late. I am the high school cheerleader trying to be someone shes not. I

From My Journals ‘anxiety’

From My Journals anxiety prose poem

The moon awaits eagerly in the same pedestal it ignited my passion. What lips, my lips have kissed, are long forgotten. The memories easily quickened as a few puddles along the way I voluntarily stepped in. What arms have lain

From My Journals ‘cinnamon’

From My Journals cinnamon prose poem

He saw things in a way that others did not, he was the only one that saw my dreams differently, I became beautiful with the light of his smiling eyes. There my soul drifted render in angle to give the