How much farther
can I go
into myself?
Going deeper and deeper,
I have worked myself
into a drenched, breathless mess.
Meanwhile, a bowl of rice
has been waiting for me
for quite some time.
The grains of rice
are calling out to me:
Put your faith in us, bastard.
We are the ones
who will lead you
to the footprints
of a ganja smoker,
swimming
in the blood
of jasmine flowers.
Across the wandering life’s dynamic domain,
we traverse on the footprints of fate.
The tortuous pathway we pave for us
in the uncertain topography of life
meanders to the formless fortune
where it takes the ordained shape,
We trudge aimless with nebulous ambition
on the fated course of ambiguity,
across the illusive hues of the sunset horizon,
where we get caught in the confining clutch
of the storm clouds of providence
as captive of the toxic milieu.
The night unfolds its fiery face
within the insight struck by thunderstorm,
every heartbeat finds the scars engraved by chance.
The shadows of deceit dance with intent
within the melting conscience clouds,
truth revealed in lies is hidden in the shine of the stars.
The surreptitious dreams we design
dazzle with the stellar glow
with heaven’s secrets coded for one and all.
The whisper of celestial silence articulates destiny
for the mystified travelers following
the tune of the singing stars.
sunset on the waves~
footprints pale along the shore,
the man lost in dusk
You came into my life without a sound, with out a word.
I was speechless
Butterfly speeding around, you gave me footprints in my heart.
You stepped in , never asked a word, you spoke, never thre out a hand to that on-broken heart, that you left foot-prints all n over.
You came into my life with a broken heart, you was sinking and you was pulling both hearts withbwith both foot prints ..
You gave me foot prints all over my heart and never cared enough to let go, and save me !!!
Why ?? I'll never know or understand why ?? You came into my life and lifted foot prints all over mybheart.
Wherever I may hop
and plop them down
in summer my hind feet
are a shade of brown
yet in winter white
which leave large footprints
each and every night
but then by day
I'll have you know
they give the game away
as is my inborn habit
here there and everywhere
for at best I'm less a rabbit
more a snowshoe hare
Here is a logical summation
Mother Earth is in a state of severe degradation
Each individual really has an obligation
Or face a future full of devastation
Here now is an invitation
Must be done no hesitation
Commence some form of restoration
Now is the time no equivocation
An example Join an organisation that practices reafforestation
For other examples seek information from an on-line investigation
This knowledge should be part of a school education
But that system is too much into indoctrination
Many people are suffering from brain fog constipation
Minds closed no room for alternative negotiation
Pray one day there will be an awakened realisation
People's footprint on this planet planned minimisation
I may be gone but
my footprints stay forever
hidden in your heart
footprints in the sand
echo across the beach
one size to another
I walk barefoot on the wet sand.
From afar I see the red sun setting.
Gulls still foraging for small fish.
Their cries harsh against the mist.
Where have my dear love gone?
Hidden in some obscure misty town.
She would not wish to be seen.
My life is like the waves that flow
Only to return from the darkening shore.
Once we were in deep love.
We held warm hand in a spring day.
We laughed and hugged and kissed.
Oh, how foolish I was that fatal day.
I sent her no red roses on her birthday.
Now I simply wile my evenings
Lurching unsteadily along the beach.
I am still bare foot on the wet sand.
Just one pair of foot prints left behind.
Quote By Poet: "The beauty of the Earth is everywhere, if we will only look. Nature has much to teach us if we will only learn."
Blue water,
many pretty shades.
Licking sand,
and footprints.
Calm or a roaring big storm,
heavenly to me.
Clouds saying,
we are white with gray.
Rain today,
maybe clear.
Attached to blue sky backdrop,
for bright sunny day.
Nature lives,
in trees and flowers.
Beauty watch,
now blooming,
Watch Spring is now showing off,
colors everywhere.
footprints in snow
my version of polar plunge
only with bare feet
men and women
strip down to their skivvies
playing man or mouse
In the blue edged blade
of winters harsh constraint
on a chair made more severe
by the pale thinned wind alone
it is unclear
whether the bird left first
or the man
Footprints carved like scars
bruise the snow so vividly
that ripples rise
in the watching eyes
Eyes cut by the knife edged wind
linger over the prints pressed in the ground
hesitating
whether to let them fade
At the rim of longing
that will not fall away
there is the wish
for a wildfire gust
to fling them clear
Instead the wind casts its red cord
and binds me
Thinned by winters sullen cold
the chair yearns
for the rusted chatter
of those who once sat there
in warmer seasons
A leaf held to its branch
loosens and lets itself fall
settling upon the remaining prints
a dry cover laid gently
across what still trembles within
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I traipse along the seashore
where the tide forgets its name,
where the seagulls cry like lost receipts,
where the sand, pale as a sleepless page,
whispers: Look down. Look down.
But I search the horizon instead~
that bluish orange hyphen between here
and whatever comes next.
The ocean licks its lips,
spatting out a shell, half-cracked,
a confession in porcelain.
Is this you? the waves murmur,
rolling their r’s like a drunk god.
I hold it to my ear~
hear the static of a thousand voices
and the hiss of dead radios.
A crab scurries by me, dragging its life
like a piece of baggage with damaged wheels.
You’re overthinking it,
says the wind,
but the wind always says that.
At twilight, my silhouette stretches long,
a black rope thrown toward the sea.
I tug. Nothing tugs back.
And the moon, that cheap spotlight,
clicks on—illuminating
only how far I haven’t gone.
Poem published at creativeramblings.com/writing-prompts/writing-challenge-27/ on February 22, 2026
Footprints
deep impressions
lost in sunken tan sand
washed away by oceans cold kiss
smooth sand
While you sleep,
we are the tide coming in to smooth the sand,
leaving the beach perfect for morning.
We are like birds building nests in the dark
gathering, arranging, making ready what you'll need at dawn.
The janitor's mop is a paintbrush erasing the day's scuffs, stroke by stroke.
The baker's hands fold dough like sheets on an empty bed,
tucking in tomorrow's warmth.
The nurse holds vigil like a candle that burns all night so others can rest.
You wake to a table already set,
a fire already lit, a path already cleared
not knowing we walked it first in darkness,
our footprints disappearing behind us like snow melting at sunrise.
We are the moon's workers,
the dream's stagehands,
the ones who polish stars you'll never see falling.
At dawn, we slip away quiet as fog,
and you inherit morning clean as new paper,
forgetting that someone held the pen all night,
writing your day into being.
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