Wanderlust Poem Explanation

Instragram Pictures From Wonderlust Yoga Festival

Is your eyes in a constant state of wandering through travel magazines and your heart lusting for that next dream vacation? The feeling to get away and be in a different world from your own seems enchanting and mystical. I constantly hoard free travel magazines and advertisements promising luxurious and exotic for prices that will put me in debt forever. It’s a horrible addiction but I love the rush of visiting a dream in person and going to see the world.

I recently wrote a poem detailing my love for traveling even though I have yet to discover the world around me. My poem may seem like a confusing concept at first but once I explain it, I hope it can shed some light on the meaning.

First, my poem represents the desire to travel and wander around. It’s a desire to travel  and lusting for a place you may never get to or can ever afford. In the first stanza, the speaker is “stopped” and bored with the scenery of Hollywood Boulevard. At one time, the rush of celebrities and fancy cars made her heart race in excitement. Over time, it begins to feel dull and typical of a suburban/ city atmosphere. She’s bored and the city sounds horrible and noisy to her.

Next, she is envisioning her church and the real reason for praising Jesus on a Sunday. She needs to rest but her heart is in a constant state of lust. She’s lusting for a place, a destination that is farther from her Catholic church.

She questions if she’s committing a sin for lusting and keeping her attention away from God where she is supposed to be resting and focusing on her church activities. Instead of being occupied in the Word of God, she’s fantasizing about different places and hoping to call a radio station for a chance to win a dream vacation.

Red lips shine neon
at the stop sign between
two streets sliding
parallel to the blacktop
cracked and bruised
from suburban beats
of boombox screeching
like nails on a chalkboard.
Does she remember how
her heart boomed with cars
racing down Hollywood boulevard?
Or how lust formed wonder
from radio shows selling
souls to the Bahamas
on a sun stroked Sunday?

Church bells ring
with the call of Jesus
baptizing white-laced
dresses and prayer beads
sliding with the words
of the priest declaring heaven
in the spirit of ecstasy of
gold powdered
on broken streets
stopping neon lips
from whispering more
in the heat of June.

Is it a sin
to lust for Cancun’s
pearl shores?
Is it lust to travel
to the isles of Greece
or to seek redemption
in a place other than
my temple?

Holy is the place I lust,
wander-lust in the photos
of a travel magazine
with a sip of green tea
and dialing my phone
for a chance to win
a radio contest for
the Bahamas on
a Sunday.



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