Short Trackless Poems
Short Trackless Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Trackless by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Trackless by length and keyword.
Standard bearer,
above the fray
Others follow,
trackless fields
Trailing echo’s,
dead and gone
Then tomorrow
—tomorrow then
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2020)
Across the trackless desert of your dreams
Float images and emotions so supreme.
Will you take ...to bring back from that place...
The message of your heart and the meaning of your dreams?
plows through thick forests
paves paths betwixt barren lands ---
darkness left trackless
04 March 2022
H Forms - Traditional Nature Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Night's sparkling sky
boggles my mind.
Do I see there, the beginning,
or is it the end?
Is what I see, then,
or is it now--or is it when?
Oh, what do I see, there,
in that trackless abyss?
Is it was, or is it will be--
or is it simply is?
Form:
Night, friendly night
On lone walks past
Whom I've divulged, through no ' boo!'
My secrets to
Enfold me now
Low-boughed for pine.
A moonless grove's! Trackless sought;
Midst airs, o'erwrought.
Friend, spouse! To hide
Each fright away.
Day-faced, when at me glaring
World, felt odd in .
A shrunken, bitter fruit
dropped from a brittle branch;
the summer rains have passed it by;
the harvesters have let it lie
and Winter stalks the field.
Numb through long days and star shy nights
beneath a void of trackless snow;
dull passersby may never know
the bounty death will yield.
© 1987, Faye Lanham Gibson
Hopes unsung and
left to question,
my imaginations emancipation.
An unsustainable fantasy,
no history,
no one left to please.
Trackless paths so overgrown,
now unknown,
a life over-owned
Beaten down,
forced to listen,
contradictions,
harsh conditions.
I'm breaking out of disrepair,
I'm getting there,
I nearly care
Some enact outstanding feats
of altruism in the world,
some pray, administer and comfort;
both create shrines of hope.
Yet there are others tasked to
reveal waymarks on invisible pathways,
cairns and inuksuk, signs upon the trackless;
word-symbols,
akin to rocks and pebbles.
Poets who scribble, often by chance,
point a way, and when they do
God builds a small shrine
for them also.
A trackless train, no destination
A soul stretched to the point of breaking
Confusion without revelation
Feelings of a heart that’s aching
In blackness, pain, no commutation
A sleep from which there is no waking
Delusion without consolation
Feelings of a heart that’s aching
Oh, the broken heart,
In splinters, pieces scattered
Heal, oh broken heart
Though torn apart and battered
The path between myself and the distant man
twists and turns. There are gullies and ridges
hags and troughs, a hoary dusk.
We are converging. He has my hat and clothes,
my resemblance.
Once I miscalculated;
I was out on the trackless moors too late,
darkness fell
I had to lose myself to find myself.
The figure is waving, not in greeting but warning.
As we draw nearer the sky darkens,
suddenly he is gone.
Later I look from a dark window and wonder
which of us came home?