Because this grief doesnt end, it touches everything, it leaves fingerprints on even the brightest of days
Smudging out the sun
my fleeting smiles are marked by its guilt, its gravity, behind every happiness I feel the ropes tightening again
Im like a marionette governed by the weight of it, seconds away from being pulled back inside myself
To the big empty in the center of my being ,where it begs me to sit ,dipping my toes into its cold blackness
My finger prints are on file because I used to teach
Repercussions might have a long-term unknown reach
I had no choice, it was the thing I had to do
In order to stay employed, I ask you, wouldn’t you?
Before we touch another person’s life
A question to keep in mind…
Is it fingerprints of kindness
of fingerprints of cruelty
We want to leave behind.
F acades of whorls and arches
I ncantations of dents and ridges
N umbness felt, freezes and pleat
G entleness of touch, rubbed so neat
E mblems of lights and shades
R olling like thunder of glades
P rinted souls of innocence
R ampage of hailed magnificence
I nk of spirited blood
N ascence cloaked from ancestral shroud
T attoos of known or odd origins
S ilhouettes drawn by hooded mannequins
Your fingerprints are on my soul
From molding and massaging me
Into what I am today.
You created me.
I am at your mercy.
Long after I am gone
I will be a part of all the love
That flows to you.
Soul Fingerprints
By Mark Stucky
From the midst of multitudes,
elusive, unique fingerprints
identify individuals
as owners of their surface smudges.
Beyond their barely discernable
two-dimensions on smooth surfaces,
memories of casual causal touches,
ethereal fingerprints possess power
to unlock phones storing private secrets
and to solve whodunit murder mysteries.
God’s mysterious, stealthy fingerprints
invisibly mark creation and our lives,
at the core, below the surface.
No ridged whorls outwardly appear,
but those uniquely hidden codes
identify their covert Owner.
Distinguishing fingerprints
requires crime labs no longer.
My fingerprint unlocks my phone.
God’s fingerprint unlocks my heart.
(First published as “Fingerprints” in Agape Review, 6 April 2023. See also my poems "The Invention of Love" and "Gloria in Eggshellsis.")
(Photo by ar130405 on Pixabay.com.)
The gentle kiss of silence
Falling softly against the cool
Earth where hues of hope - in
Light so graceful, embrace
The rich, warm imagination
Stirring up dreams, welcoming
Joy to rise from the ashes of
Yesterday’s pain, still grieving
For the moments when a smile
Erased the doubt, the despair
Promised the heart to listen
To the still, small voice of snowflakes
Tenderly painting each mountain
Each thought – in wonders too
Amazing to ever sacrifice
As nature’s laughter, dancing
With the moon, the stars
The faith that abides in the
Peaceful splendor of an eternity
Where there is more elation
In the silence of a snowfall, dipping
The world in clean, cool flurries
Than in the whispers surviving
Where man’s hand has etched
His expectations, his dreams
His endless needs – into the most
Ordinary moments, taking
Even the silent prayer and leaving
Fingerprints in the rush of crisp air
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 23 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
December 15, 2022
Life of lotus lights
dance by flying winds of change
Astral traveling
Fingerprints, my child.
Artwork,everywhere, so mild.
Dreams of days lost, wild.
3/18/2021
~2~
Rhymed Senryu
*** Bucket List ***
I want to discover the regions that rise
Up from between blades of grass and climb
To alien atmospheres; I want to examine for traces
Of fingerprints left on guitar strings, to know
If talent carries a transmitting touch.
Then, I might dwell some long days peering into
The brush strokes of Klee, VanGogh, Degas, and
Pissarro (to name but a few) until radiant
Perception gleans, directing my sight. Too,I
Will draw every face near me, every smile and eye.
From there, I will travel the alleyways of the world,
Helping to work for hope where little lives;
Inspiring spirits bound by dark clouds
Hanging too low, from which no rain flows...
But,I will list no more: the contents
Of my bucket grow, but quench not the fire.
********. **********. *********. ********
(C) sally Young eslinger 12/25/20
Thanks be to God.
Fingerprints make us all definely unique
These swirly skin lines tell our personal story
Every interaction, even a glance it could be
Leaves a fingerprint on all of us invisibly
So let's leave in others, what we want to see
The future is in our hands, at our fingertips actually.
Bite Size Poem No 22' Contest Info
Looking at a map and trying figure out the right route through Saigon streets. Foreign maps are hard enough to figure out. A local denizen takes pity on my plight. He tries in broken English to explain how to navigate District 1 and find the brewpub. He doesn’t lose his cool at my opaque facial expressions. He grabs a brown paper bag and begins drawing a map. He has streets and rudimentary drawings of significant landmarks. He uses arrows to show the proper path. He also highlights a few worthwhile sites. The map proved to be a heaven send. Everything was right where it was supposed to be. And through Siracha fingerprints and fish oil stains; it guided me through District 1 for several days.
Ho Chi Minh aside
the Siracha fingerprints
served as a beacon
THE FINGERPRINTS ON THE PARK BENCH
WET PAINT
Perhaps if it had read ……SLOWLY DRYING PAINT
Who knows……WHY
So many must test
the veracity of the obvious.
Question the tone of the voice,
the size of the “angry” letters,
offering a cautious advisory.
We flee the “crime scene”
having left DNA and fingerprint evidence
of our “Thomas like” doubt,
curling our fingers
into a “safe house” fist
of self-conscious denial.
We return, as it is said,
to the scene of the “crime”.
Apologetically touch
the fading green paint
of a lonely park bench.
© John G. Lawless
2/23/2017
Outside the Pyramid I saw a hologram;
very certain it wasn't a man-made program.
The hologram displayed ghostly images
similar to the ones in Thoth's pages.
Lo and behold!
hieroglyphs of gold!
They were brilliant,
even in the night!
The hologram seemed to have a soul,
igniting the hieroglyphs on pillars so tall.
Messages from beyond,
seemed to scream on our land.
The conspirators of time seemed to awaken
us from the sleep we were forsaken....
Date: 11/04/2016
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