nothing hurt barefoot more than legos left unattended
I found 'em on the floor one night:
discarded socks no longer white
(the guy had diarrhoea, that's clear -
no paper left to wipe his rear -
and took the socks right off his feet...)
I guess he'd used the final sheet
of paper on the roll. He whined,
I bet! Then left his socks behind!
When my soul feels weary and weak
and I struggle to find the light…
To be in the stone garden is all I seek, traipsing along barefooted in delight.
When my body is bruised and sore
and my fingers worked to the bone,
I close my eyes once more
and I’m in the garden of stone.
When my mind seems to be going mad and my heart feels too tired for more…
I think of all the moments I’ve had
barefoot in the stone garden I adore.
Often I close my eyes and dream
of the stone and moss beneath my feet…
I hear the soft babbling of a stream
And the morning choir begins to tweet.
The flowers of every hue begin to show
as morning breaks on the glory before me,
when I cease to exist, somehow I know, barefoot in the stone garden my soul shall forever be…
06/20/2022
Oh, reckless joy! The man sits barefoot in the long fire of his life. The man, who at times has been
shaken loose with God's embracing silence. He has howled at wisdom, intoxicated on Grace's red wine.
For whom but Divine could ever hang Stars, on nothing but thinnest of fishing line?
He shakes, pulls on a jug of fermentation; he has found no salvation.
An Angel nearby starts to cry.
Thinks, "Man can love a jug more than I.
The Angel sighed, and spoke, "I am right here"
barefoot treading free
cool turquoise ripples lapping
hot golden beaches
AP: Honorable Mention 2020 (poem never posted in PS till 2026)
Barefoot Beneath the Twinkling Stars
Kevin Davis, 2024
Dusk slipped into darkness without a moon,
Children played on, though they’d be called in soon.
Hide-and-seek forgotten, feet flashed through the green,
Chasing fireflies and dandelions tucked in between.
Laughter rippled softly through the honeyed summer breeze
As stars blinked awake in the rustle of the trees.
Their giggles rose with secrets shared beneath the velvet sky,
Moments of magic as the night’s curtain drifted by.
Barefoot adventures—the night was their friend,
Wishing that twilight would never quite end.
In the glow of the streetlight, shadows shimmered and danced,
Each youngster wandering deep in a summertime trance.
The world felt so big, yet cozy and small,
Wrapped in the night’s gentle, comforting sprawl.
Memories born in that soft evening light
Would be treasured forever in the hush of the night.
Barefoot beneath the twinkling stars overhead,
Wonder still sparkled in each child as they fled.
No one was ready for the end of their play,
But their mother’s soft call drew the magic away.
“Time to come in,” she called, “and get ready for bed.”
Barefoot Beneath the Twinkling Stars
Kevin Davis, 2024
Dusk slipped into darkness without a moon,
Children played on, though they’d be called in soon.
Hide-and-seek forgotten, feet flashed through the green,
Chasing fireflies and dandelions tucked in between.
Laughter rippled softly through the honeyed summer breeze
As stars blinked awake in the rustle of the trees.
Their giggles rose with secrets shared beneath the velvet sky,
Moments of magic as the night’s curtain drifted by.
Barefoot adventures—the night was their friend,
Wishing that twilight would never quite end.
In the glow of the streetlight, shadows shimmered and danced,
Each youngster wandering deep in a summertime trance.
The world felt so big, yet cozy and small,
Wrapped in the night’s gentle, comforting sprawl.
Memories born in that soft evening light
Would be treasured forever in the hush of the night.
Barefoot beneath the twinkling stars overhead,
Wonder still sparkled in each child as they fled.
No one was ready for the end of their play,
But their mother’s soft call drew the magic away.
“Time to come in,” she called, “and get ready for bed.”
We are barefoot souls on shattered glass~
your laughter lifts me, weightless, past.
Dancing barefoot in the rain
much needed respite to summer's stifling swelter
~ a welcome ritual expressing gratitude
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
TENDER VICTIMS (Children of Gaza Contest)
Dust-covered children,
With tear-streaked faces
And bloodshot eyes.
Orphaned. Abandoned.
Offered no respite--
Empty promises and lies.
Barefoot in rubble,
Tiny hands reaching,
Covered in flies.
Surrounded by debris,
Shattered homes,
With none to hear their cries.
The six o’clock news
Tells their story--
And gets one or two sighs.
My first steps, a shock,
bare feet on the cold white ground.
Soft powder covers
the world, a blanket of quiet.
My breath, a small cloud,
hovers in the frosty air.
I hear my sister's gasp,
my brother's shout of joy.
The cold stings my soles,
a thousand small needles.
I feel the small sting
and I want to run back,
back to the warm place.
But my mother smiles,
her hand warm in the cold air,
and my father laughs,
his voice a low rumble.
I keep on walking,
brave in the strange new cold.
My toes turn a pale blue,
a small person in a great world.
And the snow, a white whisper,
surrounds us all in silence,
a memory, a feeling, a dream.
I will never forget this
my first walk in the snow,
a white world I found
with my family, with love,
and my little blue toes.
Still, love keeps walking barefoot, though the sky is in shreds,
and the baker swears softly while counting his breads,
though the dogs in the square bark at storms in their dreams,
and the saints in the church spill their wine into streams.
The moon, like a coin someone lost in the hay,
is rolling through puddles at the end of the day.
A drunk in the tavern recites without end
that God’s just a neighbor you greet like a friend.
Still, love keeps walking barefoot: crooked, stubborn, alive,
with pockets of matches that never ignite,
with songs in its mouth that can barely survive,
but sing in the dark like a ship without sight.
It waits at the corner where rain starts to pray,
it hides in a teacup forgotten all day,
and no emperor’s map, and no scholar’s decree
can tell where it starts, or why it chose me.
Going barefoot feels fine at the time
and wearing shoes do too
but sometimes I need something light
something not quite so tight only sandals will do
going barefoot feels fine now and then
and donning boots do too
but sometimes I want something loose
something I can put to good use only sandals come through
sandals always do the trick
and of the pack I had my pick
but wish I knew what makes them tick
and get a handle on these my brand new sandals
they didn't cost a lot of money
but when I walk my feet sound funny
flip-flop flip-flop
my right goes flip my left goes flop
flip-flop flip-flop all day long until I stop
tho' they're really no good for running
I'm footloose and fancy-free
and if you hear a flip-flop coming
hey that'll be me
flip-flop flip-flop flip-flop flip-flop
I no longer walk barefoot through this garden of forgotten time,
where the grass, once the silk of summer, now scratches my soles with memories,
here, in this enchanted soil, bloomed a flower that stole my soul,
an earthbound spell transformed into petals that sang to the touch.
Perhaps someone, a faceless traveler, came and stole it away,
leaving only the echo of their footsteps in the corners of my silent garden,
and I, left as a guardian of the waters, hold in my hands springs of longing,
that were meant to nourish its life, to lift its song to the sky.
Now, however, I no longer walk barefoot through this sanctuary of lost dreams,
the grass, once a caress of the wind, now cuts deep like the blade of a past,
and every corner of the garden bears the weight of an unspoken mystery,
a murmur left from times when the flowers were my confidants.
In this silence, I weave my thoughts with the threads of the grass,
seeking answers in the shadow of footsteps that vanished at dawn,
and I wonder if I will ever find that enchanted flower again,
or if I will remain just a keeper of water and bygone tales.
I could walk barefoot on the moon.
I could breathe easily,
In space,
On earth too.
I let my shoes disintegrate.
Holes all over my mind.
Relaxing in a lawn chair.
But the lawn is gone.
I could stand barefoot in my house.
I can’t stand it though.
I can’t, can’t stand it.
The person in the lawn chair.
I forgot it was me.
Touching a window.
As if it was glass.
It’s more than that.
It’s me.
I could walk barefoot on the beach.
And find seashells.
Falling from my hands.
More and more precious gems.
Falling from my hands.
I could do that.
Or lie on a beach chair.
Dying.
No beach to be found.
It’s just me in a crater on the moon.
I used to be able to breathe.
Don’t question those things.
It’s me.
I could hear static on the tv.
I could be a burden on everyone.
I could have made breakfast a little earlier.
I could have gotten that new toaster so I could have toast.
There is nothing better than,
Ice cream that melts then freezes and melts.
I wonder if outer space is cold.
Or maybe it’s me.
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