Steps Poems - Poems about Steps

First Steps Funerals and Nana's Hands By Evelyn Aimarie 2 days after my Nana's funeral My oldest son took his first steps. She was my grandmother on my father's side, but more like a mother to me. Palms textured like warm overwashed cotton sheets- thin but comfortable, and clothes line, spring sunshine soft. Pastel blue intricate barely visible veins whispered...

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Silence quells the bells as dawn sneaks into the space, where darkness reigned supreme. All is hushed and holding back. For something to be assembled. From the dis-membered memories, littering the floor from the day before. Mists slowly spread their pale white tendrils. Down dark dank valleys, too dozy asleep to notice. The trees stand stoically, resigned and watchful. Knowing they only play a...

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My soles press soft into sidewalks. I leave a trail of graphite steps They etch out my first sentence— a diary in crayon, a novel in margins Time sharpens the graphite steps I stroll through my city growing younger White tiles paved over the dirt path I loved but look: beneath the cracks, faintly traced, ghosts of my graphite steps Size 5 kneels where...

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Finer than the finest wine Can you see my heart ashine? I like it when my name you call I watch you when you walk the hall I love to see your winks and smiles For all those things I'd walk ten miles And if I could just hold your hand I'd start right now and walk ten grand ...

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I'll take them one by one Won't think too far ahead Day by day until that day When someday's here, instead When someday's now today When waiting is no more When baby steps turn somersaults I'll cartwheel to your door...

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Over the head of each metatarsal you can see where each has been pounded, some more abused than others. Over the years new prominences and depressions form and reform. Surreal faces appear within the lines of the skin, features that now seem to look inward as if the hammer had become that which it had once so heavily hit. In the tenderness of your elder years, if you touch...

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I walked with my legs straight into nightmares never saw another person coming up the stairs - Come to get me like that Breathed through my ankles lived from a rucksack slept in the tree house and walked like a quack quack - But don't you quote me on that Take three steps at a time never need no crutch didn't want a brother wasn't asking for...

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Under the brass sky of Iashy city, our steps dance in the night, Through dusty streets where old buildings hide forgotten stories, With beer mugs like ephemeral treasures in hands that tremble, Between reality and dream, between stage and whispers of the gentle wind. We justify ourselves with a single sonnet floating among the lit stars, With sweet madness sparking...

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In the center a stone made into a home fire surrounds the perimeter in the wild, man's alone Steps from the jungle ...

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When God steps onto the stage, the curtain slowly falls, And the world as we know it dissolves like a dream at dawn, A dream that becomes vapor, rising toward a timeless sky, And we stand on its edge, watching as all we knew Melts into a sea of light and shadow, Where outlines disappear and transform into something else, Something...

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1. Never trust spellcheck 2. Use punctuation only when it will confuse the reader 3. Never trust the mind to capture the heart 4. And vice versa 5. If you must use the word sublime….don’t 6. Don’t try to convince the reader it is great poetry…let them figure it out 7. Remember that it is your blood on the page…don’t let them bandage it 8. Shout at the pencil...

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She steps, and each movement is a dance of stars across the universe, A constellation in motion, carrying light into every corner of shadow, On paths of tranquility, guided by a kindness that untangles the knots of time, Her smile soothes unseen wounds, transforming suffering into sculptures of happiness. With a radiance that seems borrowed from the eternal fire...

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I'm on fire with this life. I like the fiery flames, I like to let go through myself, To experience, to feel emotions, I love to warm up people's life. I want to believe my own feelings. Rather than rely on logic often, All my destiny steps are taken away, When I felt my whole body sense, Came brave right decision for victory....

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On some days, I am the pencil, drawing with uncertain steps hopes on sheets of paper, My hand trembles, but leaves traces of dreams still daring to take shape, Other days, I am the eraser, erasing with such force that holes remain like memories, The paper tears under the burden of my attempts to make everything disappear, to...

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A small, abandoned village, once embedded within woodland. An old graveyard buried under vine and brush. The lost only 30 steps from a busy highway, yet a thousand yards from any recent memories. Only the dead recall this secret history, and they see still the hustle and bustle of life in a growing community one so swiftly surprised by dead ends, unseen internments yet to be covered over. ...

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