Best Footprints Poems
Frothy waves stretch to kiss toes
Hikers plodding sandy coasts
Leaving imprints on the shore
Who journeyed here, perhaps this morn
As the orange orb created dawn
Summoning sun worshipers
Footprints far too large to fill
Descended down the shell-strewn hill
Then hugged the waves low tide
The retirement community
Sends scouts here daily just to see
If the sands of time still wait
Alas, they do, imprints remain
Sacrificed to sea again
When evening tide returns
Their legacies erased each day
Another scout, another age
Will surely cast its prints anew
Father’s bare feet left footprints in the sand
Young son followed, each step carefully planned
Tim wanted so much to be like his Dad
Always emulating, quite a sweet lad
So as you leave impressions on life’s shore
Remember your path will not be ignored
Tread gently, leave prints that make your kids proud
Step far away from the perilous crowd
Stop at times, build sandcastles, pick up shells
Memories can’t be erased by sea swells
Imprints on children’s hearts last forever
Keep this in mind through every endeavor
A child may be following your footsteps
Always make your marks with loving precepts
*Entry for Francine's "Barefoot" contest
Following footprints in the sand
Across the beach, down to the sea
I picture you, hardy and tanned
Always joyful, always carefree
Your righteous path is hard to trace
Following footprints in the sand
Such soft impressions waves erase
I wish you could lead, take my hand
When you were with me, life seemed grand
I wasted not one bit of time
Following footprints in the sand
For with you, any hill I’d climb
We’ll meet again; I’ll join you soon
Our long-lost friends will be on hand
To launch our cosmic honeymoon
Following footprints in the sand
January 19, 2020
CHASING FOOTPRINTS
Some feet are bigger than others
none bigger than those
left by your brothers -
that you tried to fill.
The foot that Dad
would put “right up ‘ur ****”
and the one Mom said
you must put forward.
The meter and feet
we poetically treat
in attempt to conform
to rhythm and beat.
One foot we must
“take out of our mouth”,
while trying to get
“one foot in the door”.
Footprints that litter
the sands of our mind
that cannot be followed
by looking behind.
The foot of the stairs
the foot of the bed
the footsteps of night
the footsteps of dread.
Huge footprints of carbon
Al Gore and his ilk
charging the cows
for the grass to make milk.
One foot on the gas
One foot on the brake
one looking to give
one looking to take.
So don’t judge the size
or the depth of the root
nor measure the soul
by the size of the boot.
John G. Lawless
submitted to – BIGFOOT (A Poet Destroyer contest)
footprints in the snow
follow them and discover
the door to my heart
Entered in contest #2 of 100 sponsored by PD Linda :-)
7th October 2014
Step by step and side by side
In harmony like moon and tide
We walk together hand in hand
On sensually soft golden sand
Ocean blue sprays her fine mist
Memories of where we first kissed
Stretching far as the eye can see
Our footsteps follow you and me
Time and tides they pass us by
Oh how the days and years fly
Good times, bad times pass our way
Let’s cherish every single precious day
21st April 2015
I know how to be a poet,
but will you write poetry with me?
I know the art of expression,
but I'm silent in solitude.
I have ink to bleed,
but no reason to bleed without you.
You are the meter in my internal rhyme,
without you, I'm an unwritten poem.
Let our muses dance with flamboyant flow,
leaving behind footprints of ink.
Simple Musing.
We all leave footprints
where ever we go
some are easily seen
some barely show
With the passage of time
some will fade away
while others will last
until your dying day
They show the wear on your shoes
and how heavy your load
where you've come from
and the direction you go
You cannot choose
where your path begins
and have little control
over how it will end
What matters most
is the choices you make
how far you travel
and the road you take
Whether they last forever
or quickly fade
that others are better
for the footprints you made
On a frigid winter evening, so still
that hot breath lingered around my face.
In snow sparklingly dry and crystalline
I encountered fresh-made footprints,
leading off my mostly trodden path.
The sun was low in evening's sky
creating long dark spectral shadows
that would all too soon be swallowed.
But for a moment illumed the footprints
in a strange, compelling light.
A fleet chilling wind whisked around
flurrying the fine, icy flakes,
attempting to erase the marks.
Against the will to forge ahead
imprint the virgin snow, I turned;
and followed the path the footsteps made.
No further prints I saw upon the ground;
no evidence of animal or other.
Though in the distance I could hear,
as darkness drew its shroud,
the wailing of nocturnal beasts.
Then deathly, eerie silence save
for crying of the wind in tangled trees;
as I was led through thickets coarse,
and forests deepest gloomy dark,
to end beneath an ancient misty lychgate.
I stood beside a solitary grave
one word; 'Father,' etched upon the stone.
I glanced back from whence I came
In snow sparklingly dry and crystalline;
one single track of fresh-made footprints,
illumed in strange, compelling light.
There is a sense of trespass
on this frost enameled morning
as I leave my footprints graffitied
across the white grass,
sending the noise of every step
to crunch my presence
into a wide, frozen silence.
I stop, marooned in the middle
of a crystalline surround
that seems so brittle that if I take
one more step I will cause
this fragile world to shatter.
It is so delicate, exquisitely beautiful
balanced on the edge of melt.
Even my taken breath seems
to send a threatening shudder through
its chambers. It would be good
to stay here, to be taken out of time
and become part of what is distilled
just below the quiet
of this blessed freeze.
But the sun now is coming through
the trees casting its rays across
the crusted ice. A thin, steamy mist
is rising. This lovely world is beginning
to melt and another is getting ready
to emerge. Birdwings brush the air.
My footprints are dissolving into grass.
I stopped just once to look back..
And saw my tracks across the snow.
Steps upon that pure white blanket,
Wishing I’d found another way to go.
Already though, in gentle downy flakes,
Nature began to fill those intruding marks.
And return the gentle winter splendor
To that serene and lovely woodland park.
The sun was sinking to its rest,
Leaving its sparkle on the forest floor.
I smiled and turned for home again…
My tired heart at peace once more
Inspired by Robert Frost
Has she been sleep walking all her life?
Or has her frustrated volition taken the upper hand
And determined what she should remember
Or what she should best forget?
What was their life like, when as children
They loved to race each other in muddy fields,
Leaving their footprints in the wet clay?
There, his strides were deeper than hers
For he was stout, and she was thin.
But as time passed the length of each heavy step got shorter,
Their days grew lonelier and lonelier.
Until in the muddy field there was but one set of strides.
Then the rains came
And wiped all footprints from the field of mud.
30 April 2021
Placed 2
Footprints
We once left footprints in the sand
while strolling slowly hand in hand
with sun rays beaming gently down
enjoying warmth along the strand.
Together we were always found,
our footprints side by side abound
in parallel concentric lines
that traced our love upon the ground.
But time and tide erased these signs;
the footprints which our love defined
have faded like an ancient art,
and bright sunlight no longer shines.
The embers burning at the start
have gone with flames they did impart;
you cast it sadly on the sand
and left your footprints on my heart.
June 3, 2021
I once had a dream that I was walking by the sea.
You were in it to Lord as You walked along with me.
We were watching scenes of my life as they flashed across the sky.
You told me how much you loved me as we talked there, You and I.
You said You would always be there and I felt so good inside.
We left two sets of footprints that disappeared with the tide.
Then some thing disturbed me as it came into the light.
When things got bad in my life there was only one set of footprints in my sight.
Lord You told me that You loved me and all I had to do was believe.
Why is it Lord that when things got so bad that you would turn and leave?
My precious, precious child You said that is something I would never do.
When you saw only one set of footprints that is when I carried you.
Walking under overcast sky
I trod through drifted snow,
no longer bearing allegiance
to platitudes disguised as wisdom
spun in gingerbread houses of the holy,
an asymmetrically challenged splinter
on a white horizon,
leaving a trail of footprints
on my frozen path.
Behind me lies the ranch house,
shutters closed in rapid eye movement,
dreaming of acres of wheat and barley
gleaming in July's opaque sunlight.
They will not know I've gone,
will assume I'm out walking.
Only as gray dusk settles
on the porcelain landscape
will they wonder where I am.
In my dark coat and cap,
shouldering a pack,
I move past the fence posts
where snow mounds like the litter
of attic antiques reciting memories
in foreign tongues.
One leafless elm bears witness
to my departure, waving
in benign breeze.
Lest my tears freeze I hold them back.
Though my footprints sprint backwards
in the charcoal of sacrosanct earth
I must stay to my gospel:
to the naked eye the flat distance
may only promise glaciers,
but I seek the aurora borealis
hidden in daylight's dim emergence,
where the crocus blooms
in barren existence.
11/29/18