Best Underfoot Poems
MIND AND MOUNTAIN
Life
A climbing process
A gradual, grand ascent to view?
Mind can inveigle such
To go where all manner wild affecting grows
Foothills of some towering height
Mind can spirit one there
Ascent would be steep
Though earnest, determined
Path narrow
With stones of many sizes underfoot
And trees!
Such a wealth of enduring life
Resonating valley view
At intervals
See a meadow
Brook and wild life passing through
At one of these lush spreads
I would stop
Dabble toes in the crystal stream
Then push on
Seeking seeking
A view of the top
And the summit
Hazy through the mist
Well above timberline
Many stones now
Huge boulders
Make faulting my climb
The backward glance, though, faultless, clear
But rare the breath
Weakening the will
At last the top
Ah, the pain!
With blue heaven still afar
Dave Austin
Categories:
underfoot, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
I’ve picked it up a hundred times
yet dropped it just once more
So I give up, the blasted thing
can lay there on the floor
And stepping out onto the porch
I hit the ice and slipped
As I walked back into the house
I stubbed my toe and tripped
While dancing round in pain
I then collided with a table
For when it comes to graceful moves
I’m really quite unstable
Perhaps there is a simple way
to turn this all around
My clumsiness could work for me
each time I hit the ground
I could be a klutz for hire
stumbling for cash
I’ll charge my clients by the slip
the flip, the flop, the bash
If you need something dropped and broken
clearly I’m your man
If anyone can smash your stuff
this klutz for hire can
Perhaps you have a wall or door
that needs a good hard thump
Just be aware my going rate
is seven bucks per lump
I could knock your sister down
or trip into your aunt
Or I can make a great big mess
and kick your potted plant
And if your pets are underfoot
and adding to the drama
I’ll have to charge you extra
if I suffer blunt force trauma
There’s nothing quite as comical
and what a sight to see
as goldfish bouncing on the floor
It is my specialty
And when I fall I scream out loud
to add to the effect
I’ll see you get your money’s worth
when your whole house is wrecked
So call my number any time
My estimates are free
It’s 1-800-S T U-
M B L and E
© Mike Wise
1/30/19
Categories:
underfoot, hilarious, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
In autumn's graceful waltz of time
Where beauty and decay lovely intertwine.
And where joy and sorrow blissfully dance
In grace, they move this is a mesmerizing rhyme.
Leaves fall like a master painter's dream
Such a masterpiece mixed in color and light.
Twirling and a pirouette and the wind's gentle hymn
Is celebrating life's fleeting and graceful flight.
Raindrops are falling in a celestial jeté
I breathe in the air so crisp and so fair.
A gentle wind as secrets it keeps
A promise of renewal in the cool autumn ballet.
Within decay's soft and relentless caress
Unseen beauty takes the actors stage.
Golden leaves crunch underfoot like nature’s applause
Soft light filters through the trees like a lover's gaze.
Silence of the air soothes my soul like a lullaby.
Autumn is a ballet of graceful transition
A time for release and a moment to move on.
Yet, it is also a time of great hope.
A chance for fresh beginnings and where dancers are drawn.
The Harvest's abundance in life's great field
For the Fruits of labor and love's sweet trove.
The apple's nectar on my tongue, it yields.
Nature's gift is a dance
from heavens above.
Yet, as I taste the apple’s sweet yield...
I am transported to autumns of past.
To childhood days in the orchard field
And laughter lament is fading fast.
We seek the fire's embrace
against the chill.
As we are preparing for winter's
timeless phase.
And children's laughter fills with thrill -
That joyous echo of
Halloween's displays.
A fire crackles in life’s burning spin.
Look, as new life emerges from...
the ember's gentle glow.
We experience a symbol of...
transformation
a dance within...
Just like life's eternal rhythm...
like a river's ebb and flow.
There is steadfast and an...
unwavering resolve.
As a lone leaf clings to its
solitary dream.
A dream of green...
a dance as life revolves...
Against winter's ongoing
relentless regime.
Within winter's embrace and where life's seeds lie
Lies a seed of promise...
in silence grown.
I close my eyes and join autumn's
endless grace.
In reverie... I find my truest home.
Yet when I awaken -
It was a fleeting dream.
As the scent of autumn lingers in the air...
A testament to time that life's beauty is in…
Its ever-turning stream.
Categories:
underfoot, autumn, dance, dream, halloween,
Form:
Rhyme
Rising on island,
Mountain, with peaks of possibility,
Valley lush and green.
When my knees collapse, lightning and thunder -
Call it butterflies.
The palms warmed and cooled us, warned us, fooled us.
Explosive, our love -
Once conjoined, often drifting in the sea,
Eyes leaping with fire.
Hot Lava, Lover,
Have we been here before? You’re smoking hot!
Hearts of stone, lifting upwards, tears running,
Drifting on riffraff.
Outbreak of chortling might redirect winds.
La la…ooh…la la.
Sips of berries and pineapple; we share
Icy tropical
Attempts to cool things down; steam underfoot.
Ebb and flow of raft,
Seeking to poke embers - attentive ears.
Hot Lava, Lover,
Have we been here before? You’re smoking hot!
Collapse of civilization, in grass
Skirt, paradise shirt,
Atomic timing sans wearing a watch.
Heads buried in sand -
Lips meeting in molten-red, not passive,
Dirty and tender.
Swimming in sweep of lava lake, suntan-
Baked, gliding upwards,
Climactic eruption, falling with love.
Hot Lava, Lover,
Have we been here before? You’re smoking hot!
We ride the flume of volcanic weather,
Can’t raise the tall man,
Seek the insane chance of sane survival -
Valiancy in strife.
Man and wife seeking each other’s island -
Pieces fit just right.
Synchronic habitation, breathing room.
Volcano’s, how old?
In the end it shuts its mouth… a whisper
Hot Lava, Lover,
Have we been here before? You’re smoking hot!
Categories:
underfoot, emotions, marriage,
Form:
Verse
From blade of grass to the tip of twig,
The white dust of winter fall’s.
Frenzied flakes move in lost abandonment,
Finally pitch on fence and wall’s.
On the throat the rasping of cold crisp air,
The sound of snow crunching underfoot.
As the day grows short , and night draws in,
Now the journey homeward took.
Familiar shapes come into view,
There outlines soften by the snow.
What once were roofs ,now don white overcoats,
With ice jewellery now on show.
The old mill wheel lies motionless,
So still the little stream.
Held fast by Jack Frost clutches,
In a Christmas greeting scene.
Chinks of light through windows,
Gives some comfort and delight.
Cast a beam with an incandescent glow,
On white grains as they glisten bright.
At the door the latch clicks open,
And with thud is now latched again.
Keeping winter firmly on the out side,
withIn, thoughts of summer to retain
Categories:
underfoot, inspirational, life, nature, seasonswinter,
Form:
It is not a conversation you overhear,
Like the questions rolling underfoot,
"Who goes there?".
You can see the grass has told
How tall to grow
To the chicory, dandelions and clover.
At the edge of the pitch
Where competition is stiff,
They grow bigger, taller and bolder;
Yet in each new match, every plant,
Agrees to a height and no taller.
Till in the next field over, where it's wild and fallowed,
It's to the death, all bets are off, and no foul.
2,21,2020
Categories:
underfoot, flower, nature, sports,
Form:
Light Verse
4.
Now things started to become clear,
Both Alahsar and Salahmar in the same space,
One would find Victory, the other, leave this place,
light and dark in the eternal battle.
Alahsar, of God's light,
Salahmar, of dark's evil joys,
which of them would wane away?
Devil's fear, or Heaven's glory.
For Alahsar, the city of light,
mortals, their lives laying down,
numbers falling as Algahrs push forward,
is this the end of light, hearts filled with hate.
From the golden gates a mighty moving,
women, they come forth with speed,
hate filled eyes and trembling cries,
yelling out their cry of war.
Still the foe were many more,
the Algahrs always to the front,
mightily they begin their push,
the might of dark within each beast.
Too hold the foe would take great strength,
strength was fading, ebbing away,
the Algahrs now did mighty push,
death and destruction on Badicha lay.
Still mortals stood, though blood did flow,
man and woman, power decreasing,
children watch from mighty walls,
as parents and friends meet their end.
Dark Man fighting, vengeance dear,
Warrior Queen spreading fear,
the bloodiest scene before the gates,
blood for blood,by sorrow's river.
Utamol, with almost life of own,
cutting, slicing, stabbing home,
Dark Man with his awesome grace,
Sends evil from this land of light.
Warrior Queen with power and speed,
destroying all this evil seed,
cries of pain are everywhere,
so many lost, their dead eyes stare.
On the plain great dust clouds rising,
screams of mortals and beasts fill the air,
lightning flashing, thunder crashing,
onward the struggle of life goes on.
Within the heart of living terror,
weapons crashing, teeth a-gnashing,
will miracle come to Badicha?
Shall mortals halt their slow retreat?
Alahsar's own are falling back,
dead and dying are underfoot,
now mortals they must hold the foe,
forward warriors, toe to toe.
No battle ranks or strategy to follow,
Hold position and strike down the foe,
Dark Man now in heat of battle,
Arlaghs feel the hate of Utamol.
In this time before time,
sorrow's song, the last song to be sung?
Strike with rage, power and might,
Become battle Gods, the power of light.
Cry goes up, "Walk in the light,"
the arms are weary, still fight for life,
still the battle crashes on,
what end shall be, before the dawn.
To Be Concluded..........
Categories:
underfoot, dark, death, dream, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
More
More than the dust underfoot,
which in the beginning
was sculpted into humanity…
More than rivers running
from mountains to quench
thirst and calm the spirit…
More than reading the classic
stories that fill libraries…
I await life’s gift of hearing
your voice sing to my heart
of your passing days.
**This poem is written for our grand-daugher Scarlet now re-united with us after being kept from any contact for a decade. She turns 16 this month.
Categories:
underfoot, blessing, granddaughter, heart, life,
Form:
Free verse
Horrible, my map upended our time with boot camp son.
Horrible to get back to base, not be caught, had to run.
Horrible, to see Mom hurried into hospice, her hours few.
Horrible when we heard last sweet breaths, as time flew.
Horrible when a tree splintered the roof of our deck.
Horrible, the tree balancing, just above hubby, in check.
Horrible when eggshells were underfoot, a bad spell.
Horrible the slamming doors, curses and raising hell.
Horrible the gall stones and bladder, ended grand visit.
Horrible the nightmarish nettles that percoset gifted.
Horrible heaven’s so far away, like pot of gold source.
Horrible, like vagabonds, earthlings veer off course.
Horrible, the end of a savory and sweet meal.
Horrible the rancid leftovers of mortal ideals.
Horrible when poetry is no longer wielded, engaged.
Horrible when Armeggedon speaks, when war is waged.
Categories:
underfoot, angst,
Form:
List
I felt the sea on my pulse,
the salt in my brunette,
pebbles underfoot,
the net dragging me.
I felt the familiar ebb and flow,
close to shore,
tippy-toes.
The coconut permeates the dawn,
its scent infiltrating,
its oils reverberating.
I feel the palms bending low,
so low I can touch
their feather fronds;
and fronts clashing.
First drops of the storm,
so tender-pitter-patter,
light thunder,
soft lightning.
Nearby volcano erupting,
you think I’m dreaming
about your lava eyes.
Beach blanket soaked,
settling into muddy sand,
its tartan, tanned
and connecting
with the waves,
overlapping.
The island’s going under -
the thunder, ecstatic;
its lightning erratic.
Surrounded by water,
a dugout
with flapping wings -
the canoe is land.
Lily pads on steroids
float upon deceptive waters -
so pretty I can touch them;
and caiman too.
All that’s ever been
resides in sandy eyes;
I’ve collected seashells
in my mind.
Categories:
underfoot, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
I bent over to touch my toes
and the ground tore open like a backbone.
I tried to feed myself the sky;
to splice my tearducts into the universe
so that, when the pavement cried, it would mean something to me.
My fingernails punctured that slimy membrane
congealed with stars,
and I brought a slice of it to my lips,
hot and slippery like a jellyfish.
Peach juice, chalky-sweet, flowed,
fleshy particles snagged in my teeth,
and the colors erupted within my mouth.
Synthesia took over my lungs.
The hollows between my knuckles flooded with synovia
and all the ectoplasm threatened to separate from my cells
with a sound like thunder.
Diphthong tasted rusty like leukoplakia as it tiptoed across my tongue.
Tomorrow rose like the skeletons of trees,
groping for a feeling similar to catharsis
[catharsis tender as the broken wings of doves,
crunching underfoot like shattered glass.]
The clouds opened their thunderous maws
- teeth snicker-snacking, lamplight-eyes flaming the color of E#'s -
and consumed me.
I felt my skin turn to something other than skin:
thick and rough with scales,
my fingerprints melting into something waxen, smooth and opaque,
like pomegranate kisses on coffee mugs.
A feeling ignited deep in my structure;
cedillas blossoming like lilies from my lips,
fragmented sentences stretching taut as guitar strings
between my thumb and forefingers.
A flutter gentle and demonic as Calcifer erupted from my system
- splattering hot and frothing into my hand -
and fluid rushed in.
I dared to taste oblivion,
and the sky swallowed me.
My lungs failed to be lungs.
They flooded with caustic matter,
and I coughed up reflections sharp as fiberglass;
fighting with organs phthisical and sore.
I struggled to find a way to describe it:
the feeling of consuming something greater than yourself,
of opening your eyes and tasting the sound of rain.
It was like swimming,
but inside out.
I bent over to touch my toes,
and my spine tore open;
the loose laces unraveling, veterbrae poking out
like the tines of forks.
I tried to contort myself into the beginning,
but I only found where I end.
Categories:
underfoot, allegory, confusion, depression, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
Water / Water
New Hamburg, Ontario Rubkuai village, South Sudan
locals rise locals starve
with the river, heed warnings where once there was a river,
to keep from its banks travel along arid banks
thirty thousand gallons a tanker arrives with a few gallons
of unwanted rain rain is worth all limbs
burdens how burdened the village —
storm drains the drought drains life from fields
this summer, filled sport bottles this summer
will be abandoned near will crust tongues
splash pads, as the dying
where saturated children riot tend to the dead
in mist & spray, soak in inconsolable mothers silently
the never-ending fount riot [eyes too dry to mist
until fingers prune, can still spray bullets
until thirst or thirst for just one more look
sends them skipping as irises prune in the sun]
cars gleam and grass grass is a memory
springs underfoot; & graves spring up underfoot
the bridge is power- like emaciated bridges
washed, as though the downpour nothing stops the downpour
hadn’t flooded of diarrhea — the filth binds
spider’s webs cholera’s web
people shower, run half-filled people kneel for droplets
dishwashers & laundry machines, the desert launders
a kettle screams the jawbone
for someone, of the newest ghost who still
anyone to listen listens, waits, for anyone
Categories:
underfoot, africa, sympathy,
Form:
Free verse
A Renga for Poetry Soup:
Meander
Time and the river
Endless silver morning
Autumn leaves float by
Shimmering streaming mountains
Pines swaying in constant winds
Morning mirror
Another gray hair
Ah! the wind of time
Spring's last daffodil
Plucked for a dinner paty
Diamond blue fragments
Reflecting off stream waters
Another moonrise
Sunset colors disappear
Shooting stars
Campfire sparks
Fresh fish and conversation
Embracing shadows
How many friends have vanished?
Canyon echoes
Retirement time
Facing all the could-have-beens
Tears in whiskey
Quietly at the gravesite
For her long dead daughter
Rolling ocean waves
At the sunset horizon
A ship disappears
Dry pine needles underfoot
In the distance, tolling bells
The sound of a car
Approaching - disappearing
Sleepless night
Between the windowsill plants
A single moth, dry as dust
Cloud shrouded moon
Moire patterns fill the sky
Wandering ghosts
Great grandfather's photograph
Fading before my eyes
Dried flowers
Holding a spider's web
Sunrise
Children building sandcastles
The sound of waves and laughter
The old phonograph
A song from long ago
A shaft of dust-light
Sitting on a redwood stump
A logger counts his wages
Stopping to listen
An unknown bird's mournful song
Fern embroidery
Seeds on the wind drifting by
Tea kettle whistles
In the dazzling sunlight
Achingly white billow clouds
Ring of blue
A drone of mid-day falling
On the autumn wind meadow
A hawk ascending
Call of triumph echoing
A trout in her talons
Smoke from the hermit's cabin
No one remembers his name
Winter rain
The dry emerald brook
Resurrection
Waking from a flight filled dream
Facing the machine filled day
Watching the moon set
Chaotic starshine appears
Orion's embrace
Singing satellites sparkle
Between the winter branches
River of wonder
Filling the child's eyes
Christmas morning
Bright snow on the open field
Melting in the winter thaw
All that I can find
Of the homesteader's church --
The empty window frame
Spring breeze rustling the old tree
The sound of grass and lilacs
The old woman
Serves herself a cup of tea
With her memories
Forest boulder
April rain
Categories:
underfoot, lifeold, winter, sound, autumn,
Form:
Verse
Version 1
Broken souls and disillusioned dreams. Broken toys and angels without wings
Weep for the fallen brothers and infants without mothers
Pained tears encompass the empyreal rays. Pompous worlds painted in a destitute haze
Transmogrified in the iron flood. Transmogrified in the spilled blood
Frightened children flee from the impending devouring wails of the banshees
Captured children drown in the seas for the coming spring's garden poppies
Choked whispers, within frozen forgotten tale’s, the phantom spirits lurking behind the veils
The strong beguiled yearn for their thirst, obtaining the hero’s, plagued curse
A solitary cane and an abandoned house assembled upon soot
A dying hearth and a trembling shadow with crushed raspberries underfoot
Greet the honor, greet the madness, beat the dishonor, win the chalice
Defeat the grandest, apparatus, acquire all the treasure's honored status
Version 2
Broken souls and mutilated dreams
Broken toys and angels without wings
Weep for the vanished fallen brothers
And children without hope or mothers
Pained tears encompass the solar rays
A pained world in a destitute haze
Transmogrified, engulfed by the flood
Swept away and drowned in the spilled blood
Panic children flee from shadows
Spoils feed the seas of young willows
Choking whispers, frozen buried tale
The phantom spirits behind the veil
Strong beguiled only yearn for their thirst
Obtaining the hero's plague's cursed
Wooden cane and the house build on soot
Dying hearth and trembling bloody foot
Greet the honor, greet the madness
Beat the dishonor, win the chalice
Defeat the grandest, apparatus
Acquire the treasured honored status
Updated 5/14/2019
Categories:
underfoot, horror, loss, pride, soldier,
Form:
‘Why am I so cold dad, the cold I cannot cut?'
‘Well it’s snowing really hard son and icy underfoot.’
‘But my brothers and my sisters, it doesn’t bother them,
so why am I so cold and from where does all this stem?’
‘I wouldn’t really worry son but I couldn’t say for sure,
at the moment as far as I’m concerned there’s no specific cure!’
‘But why am I so cold dad it really isn’t fair?
I shouldn’t be this cold dad for I’m a polar bear!’
Categories:
underfoot, humorous, silly,
Form:
Rhyme