Footmarks Poems | Examples

Life's Reality Quote

Poverty may not necessarily
laziness connote,
and riches may not
necessarily hard work
indicate.
The hand of providence
does its major role play,
as successes and failures
to each man is assigned.
Work resiliently before
the twilight of life,
extending the goodwill
of fortunes divinely
earned,
thus leaving indelible footmarks
on the paths of existence,
because one day,
die we all must,
and our deeds to future
generations will loudly
speak.

Left With Tears To Quench Their Thirst

A barren land is thirsty for rain
Its dry sands can’t yield any grain
The ground printed with bare footmarks
And a soldier boot prints in their tracks

Famine was signalised by a beautiful sign
The innocence of a bright and cloudless blue sky
Under it they pray to the gods to make the clouds weep
As their water wells ebb down into sips

Tears fall more frequently than rain
Sinking into the hot arid terrain
The wind whistles by without moisture
It blows past them carrying away their prayers

They look to the skies for humanitarian manna
To the same sky they look out and dread the gunners
The land the poor till for survival
Is the land on which the rich kill for minerals

Women and their babies live their fighting men behind
Asylum lies beyond the unknown borderlines
Their land is just a name and memory, home is no more
A place they came from, now in the claws of famine and war

Dedication: To the struggle for peace in South Sudan

Red Letters

Oh, how erred 
the impressions of a life can be ...
we humans, with our lofty views of acumen,
pride ourselves on distinguishing a creature's habits
by merely appraising its footmarks in the sand.

And yet we fail to estimate the full relevance
of the imprints WE leave behind,
and what may be assumed by them,
right or wrong or indifferent.
Looking back, I try to focus on a pattern -

My prints in the muck ...
the only true wisdom gleaned
from an irreverent, sullied journey, is this:
such an existence,
while oft' feigning the emblems

Of mystery, adventure, and passion -
while sometimes gaining a wisdom of the dark
that only a burning ardor for the eventide can accord -
and while flesh and marrow may come to savor
the sublime anguish of extremes -

Such a life is NOT romantic,
or charming,
or even enviable ...
whatever bleeding typewriters may say
to the contrary.





~ Honorable Mention ~  in the "Strand Select K Any Form Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.

Sonnet of Love

Love , a curse in our stars , blessing in disguise ,
Like a blind man’s lamp guides till our doom .
It isn’t a nine day wonder that time despise ,
But , pulls the strings of our heart in days of gloom.
No prophet knows a fate of love ,
My wits puzzled what hath she ?
Not the skin that’ll wrinkle made me love ;
Pin the blame on your eyes that glee.
Your deafened heart threw my songs in vain ,
Your footmarks mock my potraits of love .
Let her stones get wet by my tears of rain
And Let the debt of love marks all I have .
   Not a potion , but love can cure one’s soul ,
   Immune to love , thy life is a foul.

Enlightening Strides

lap upon lap
 wave upon wave
 calming waters 
 ripple round toes

 with each stride
 footmarks fade
 behind
 as I wade

 shoreline spreads endlessly
 birds babble perky chants
 breeze beckons peaceful trance

 oh the ocean's song's
 so serene...
 lap upon lap
 wave upon wave
 each step closer
 to inner sanctuary
 abiding light
 broadening soul's sight

 sovereign autonomy
 splashes on pages
 of my life

 enraptures me
 capturing holy harmony
 within...

 at last

There's No Such Thing, Present

one day, while i was walking along the way as usual,
a strange thought suddenly occurred to me, i stopped 
and turned back instinctively 

“don’t stop, keep going your way
because the truth of the matter is the footmarks 
you left behind are nothing but bitter memories” 
the present is something i dropped while moving 
in and out of the past and future, investing great value
in ordinary things that can physically be felt, is shattered 
to pieces, a broken glass full of rotting wine   

“don’t content with the status quo
because it’s nothing more than the sand 
in your palm, it’s an illusion you may see or may not see”
i was thinking the future is nothing but a rainbow 
hanging in the air seeing colors through a prism 
comparing myself to a gross looking wriggling maggot  
 
“it seems to be a good omen when you look up the infinite space 
sky is blue and the sun is brilliant, but don’t be beguiled by those phenomena; actually the rainbow is the burning vapor struggling 
not to evaporate, the sun is a tyrant and the sky is a figment of  
the spectator’s imagination, it intersects with all kinds of prodigies”

Cosmos Lady

a blossom of a roadside cosmos seems rather sad because colorless,
raises the eyes to find the tomorrow at the moment when wind stops 
and roams, through the rifts the wind cunningly manipulates,
to look back the trying passage

the cosmos lady tall and slender, a lonely and pathetic woman,
“why are you humming berceuse Jocelyne, while rocking 
an empty cradle?  whom do you wait for in this chilling night, 
under the moonbeam scatter the fallen leaves?”

for she is not able to conceive a baby,
plucks a star from the sky beyond the morning glow
the other side of daybreak; she wraps a star in the blanket 
instead of a baby the woman never had, 

and tightly holds it in her bosom pressing her cheek 
against the folded blanket, and walks on the cold morning dews 
for another day yet to come.  nevertheless, each time she takes 
a step forward the west wind hastily returns to retrace

its own footmarks which it has left in a bygone day, 
and compels her reminisce unpleasant memories, 
the memories of whole of bad fruits once the west wind 
has had carried away

A Leaf Wafted On the Water

Rowing a boat alone, where did he go?  
Just like a floating leaf, in the river named oblivion.

Where did the lonely man go? In the river under the watery 
autumnal sky where the moss grows even in the running water 

because many suns and moons yet to look up 
in deepening spirit of the water. For the loneliness unbearable, 

the leaf strays, as if the shadow of lonely wanderer 
is pushed by a gust of wind, goes along all about in the swift current. 

Entrusted the passing cloud with loneliness more then he can bear, 
the leaf visited an old home other side of the hill, but alas, 

she was not there, the leaf found was the footmarks 
of her and his imprinted on the deserted path.

The leaf traces the old memories in the moon 
that disfigured by the ripples from drops of her tears, 

wandering in a field of reeds thinking her beautiful image, 
the affectionate personality unforgettable in the fading memories 

with the passing of time. Where did he go? The lonely man 
who was embracing the howling wind, crying.

Resurrection

—The Hymn of Angels—

From your eyes, do brush the tears off my daughters,
and go. O my poor daughters who seek the living among the dead, 
go, because your Lord Jesus has risen, just as He has proclaimed

In the early morning sunlight that was still wet from the overnight dews 
the Son of God who conquered death has left for the beach
by the Sea of Galilee. The Lord our Savior is now there at the beach
to count His own footmarks on the sand

For the desires to hold your hands before being ascended in air,
the Lord of resurrection is gone to the beach at the Sea of Gennesaret,
the sea which the Father’s wrath once roared and rose to huge waves

For the wishes to spend His little remaining earthly hour with you, 
our Lord the Savior is gone to the Sea of Tiberias, the sea where 
the ripples reflect sunbeam calmly in the daybreak sunlight by the shore

The Lord is awaiting you at the Sea of Galilee to recollect 
His unforgettable memories, and to reassure His eternal love
before being returned to his throne in heaven above

The Vagabond

—The autumn leaves—

Although there is no paradise
nor a place where he is welcomed
the waned vagabond has to leave when autumn is at hand.

No way to search for why, and dwells in such a crooked fatality 
at this, likewise, the distressed annual ring grown under the shade,
darkens by the sun that has turned against him.

As the night falls, the vagabond, in need of a night’s shelter,
stops for a moment and looks back to count his own footmarks 
he has left behind.

Nevertheless, when the lights are gone, from the windows nearby 
and yonder the dewdrops fall onto the darkened pathway and are 
anxious to know the monotony of a journey that is in a torn knapsack.

Autumn leaf is a vagabond.  The fruits of a happy home is 
the blossoms that never was found on the boughs of a fig tree.
For the sake of the cold dewdrops, Oh, night, too long.

Follow

Follow where the woods may take you
in your dreams you have been asleep
in the passage where you went earlier
there might be footmarks or a key under a stone
you still are shaken of a cottage
which the wind blew off
but in no matter you don't ask why
the trail to it is still grassy and dewy
in daylight,
without a hunter grazing your scent
the grass lilies by the river align
take a fallen log which spans the half
and sit on its edge
to watch the ripples spread.

The Stone Pillar

“Before I know it, oh, I am here already!”
Foolishly, I looked back.
Eurydice was, as if whirled through a funnel, 
drawing back to the pit below, though
my heart’s keen desire is to hold her in my arms again.

“Without knowing it, so soon, I am here already.”
Foolishly, I looked back.
My broken footmarks behind me panting with an arm stretched,
what shall I do if my footmarks outrun me while I am wavering.

Finally, my journey has ended,
I looked back; foolishly.
Medusa is staring at me with her pupil-less eyes,
the serpents wriggle to seize me to venom me 
though my heart is still pounding.

Water's Edge Where Memories Float Down the Stream

When I look at yonder sky in the setting sun
while walking on a path by the water’s edge
following memories as it floats down the stream,
I saw tinged autumnal leaves beckoning me
on the hill behind my old home. 

The footmarks piled to grow high as my height
and they sway in the chilling wind 
with reeds by a marshland,
I am standing by a riverside
that I left behind my home
reddened in the evening glow.

Deserted Field

I wished for a man to be greater than a man,
he became a god doesn’t know the meaning of humbleness,
but is self righteous;
from the sky he flows as a cloud of arrogance
rain pours with no consideration on inhabitants of the earth;
on the footmarks he left in the field where the sun rises and sets,
you see only unrecoverable ruins.

I wished for a man to be less than a man,
he became a beast doesn’t know the meaning of love;
he attacks anybody, anywhere and anytime to slander others;
there are bitten and torn remains of defamed ones
scattered all over in the wilderness.

Disgusted from life on the other side of the world,
though, I came back to the world of human society
I found that men are still unable to keep away from covetousness,
furthermore, 
men are wandering in the empty fields of neither god nor beast
to find a blood sacrifice it doesn’t matter whom to offer.

Requiem I

There goes a shadow without substance,
the shadow never has been lived in anyone’s heat  
goes out to the boundless wilderness, and that’s why
the footmarks the shadow leaves behind in the wilderness are
filled full of loneliness.

When a drifting cloud whiles over the shadow,
the poor shadow dissolves into the empty air.
The footmarks the shadow left behind are
shivering with fear.

When such clouds come together and covers the sky
the clouds sprinkle rain, as time passes, the cloud becomes 
a downpour and hits the earth. The gathered rain water 
forms a torrent and dashes to the lowlands 
carrying everything on the earth,
the footmarks of the shadow also swept away by the water.

Although the rain stops, the clouds clear 
and the sun appears in the sky, there is no shadow 
or footmarks to be found in the wilderness any more.
Only those raindrops reflecting the sun rolling on the wilderness 
as if teardrops moaning.

• Short Footmarks Poems
• Famous Footmarks Poems
• Best Footmarks Poems
• Read Footmarks Poems
• Long Footmarks Poems
• Footmarks Quotes