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Footprints left in the sand
here I am walking with the blues
Nowhere specific to go
No thought nor plan beforehand
Naked mind, no body ruse
Before I get real low
A beach walk to wake my talk.

Listening to my inside mind
As one footprint follows
Footprint not too far behind
Moving, just to hide
The loneliness inside

Naked feet, pocketed hands
Imprint a time inside of me
A time of shifting sands
Unsettled like the beach dunes
For awhile, oh so temporarily.
Poem written for a friend who was going through a divorce and to I felt empathy with him. The poem has been published. I made one alteration.
Mary-Eliz May 2018
long-legged brothers
daddy long legs, too

hurry, scurry

wait up,
I can't keep up with you

slow down
wait for me

I'm lagging
don't you see


~~~~~~~~~~

read...read...

scurry...scurry

always feeling in a hurry

so many...so much
you write too fast

it's like walk-running
in the past

slow down...
I lag behind it's true

slow down, wait for me
I can't keep up!

I can't keep up with you!
I know I likely miss a lot of real gems but oh lordy! it is hard to keep up. I still have short legs and walk fast :-)
Antino Art May 2018
What I like about walking is that
you're free:
no GPS, no machinery

The sidewalk is all you need

The sound of footsteps is
a slow-dance
against the backdrop of buildings on either side,
lamp posts overhead
passing audiences seated in cafe windows
passing time

sure, walking is the slower, old-fashioned way to get there,
but if you want to slow things down,
this is how. Look how it reveals
every crack in the sidewalk
with which to measure each step.
Look how it wraps the sounds of the city around you
as a record around its player
to where you hear the song beneath the static.

I wander in circles
to arrive at my center,
my soul-o
the jazz of each step improvised
over the plans that bridge today with tomorrow, burned
in sunset orange -
a sepia photograph
we would have failed to take
had we driven in and out of the skyline at rush hour,
eyes locked on the road ahead, the day
a blur in the rear view mirror

walking is a panoramic experience
that motor vehicles can't replace

It's not so much
an act of movement
as it is of arriving
at where you were all along.
Dark Ink May 2018
I'm tired of dreaming.
I'm through with trying.
Tired of living, yet scared of dying.
Maybe things are good for you,
but look at all that I've been through.
Look at all the pain I've won.
I bet you think that it's been fun.
You never thought I'd turn away.
You never believed you'd see this day.
Look again cuz here I go
leaving behind all I know.
Changing it all as I must do.
Not daring to stop and think things through.
Wanting to run as fast as I can,
not stopping until I understand.
Like why did I let things get this way?
Why didn't I leave yesterday?
How are things going to be,
since there is no more you and me.
21st Century May 2018
I'm here again and again I feel like I'm out of hope.
I'm surrounded by evil groves trying to break me down.
but I need to continue walking.
I ignored them because I know who I am.
I just know where I am weak.
because in this world many want to destroy you.
Just go ahead if nobody wants to help you,
until you reach your own.
no one can break your personality.
Only God knows who I am
a bundt
in my
ear will
Beethoven ring
the steps
that my
wayfarer here
in breadth
what compose
this so
foremost in
my mind
and trigger
a sensation
that overture
tell of
mine concoction
Ripping my favorite piece in MP3
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