Foot Prints
Foot Prints
a man and a woman
shoulder to shoulder
hand in hand
walk on the winter beach
his foot prints being left behind him
her foot prints following her
poem by Suchoon Mo_
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Related quotes
Memories and Marks
Foot prints in the sand
Tell their story
Side by side they stood
Right at sunset
As the sun was shining it's last rays
As the silver moon overtook
They kissed
Everything was perfect
Love was everywhere
Happy as could be
They walked
Leaving behind foot prints
A tangible mark
Eventually washed away
By waves of blue
But the memory remains
poem by Autumn Winds
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Plant thy foot firmly in the prints which His foot has made before thee.
quote by Joseph Barber Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is - you know, there's receipts for rented cars and license plates and guns and hand prints and palm prints and fingerprints. You know, I want to wait until I'm in a court.
quote by Patty Hearst
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Left Foot, Right Foot
left foot, right foot,
left foot, right foot,
eyes fixed straight ahead....
drawn by the spectre
of our own greed;
use it up, throw it out,
use it up, throw it out....
hardened and lifeless,
eaten from within
by the maggots of ego...
deaf to the cries
of our own children,
blinded by the 'God'
of cyber technology...
strip the fields,
cut down the forests...
mine the mountains,
we pee in our own
drinking water, and
walk away....
leaving nuclear tracks
in the womb of time.
left foot, right foot,
left foot, right foot...
marching blindly to hell
with drool on our chins!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sturdy hip, a binding grip
I marvel at your foot prints
That you make in wet soil
When you walk across, the heel
Being more hollow by the heaviness
Of your hip and the flatness of the belly.
29.05.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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He who devours his neighbour's fowl, its foot prints will give him away.
seeing foot-prints on snow
a teenager turned towards God
becoming a saint
quote by by John Celes
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Dear God
free me from memory trap
just as the foot prints on
a sandy beach get constantly
washed away by the waves
under the all seeing sun and moon
let my memories too wash away
under the watchful eye of
the sun and the moon
flashing their toothless grin...
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Sonnet: None Can Cheat the Lord
Despite all care with which we do the crime,
And try avoiding detection on earth,
Despite destroying evidence that’s prime,
We leave behind some prints that are quite worth!
Foot-prints or fingerprints, we may not leave!
Some insects too can give away the crime;
Your DNA can’t help you to deceive;
Present in hair or blood-cells or in slime.
If man can be a forensic expert,
Who can then dupe the omnipotent God?
He knows our every thought and acts by heart;
No one dare check the Creator and Lord.
Yet, man thinks that he can do foolproof things!
He cannot fly birdlike with real wings,
6-9-2002 by Dr John Celes
poem by John Celes
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To Get The Bliss
Bliss is a stage where one expects
No returns, where one is immune
To contempt and where one wishes
No post death foot prints. A beggar suits.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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An Evening; Someone with a painting at a Seaside
[At the foot of a Lighthouse one finds darkness.]-Spanish Proverb
When the evening star twinkles
in the purple sky
He takes his brush
and paints her secret eyes.
But the eyes seek another face
beyond the skies?
When the fishing boats toss in the deep sea
He sketches her uneasy heart
that departs from his sacred port?
And when the birds fly to their roosts
He too takes his satchel and gets ready
to go back to his old lonely hut.
He watches in the twilight sky
faraway a sad star burns in the colour of Red!
Like his weeping soul.
O those foot prints on the beach
wash away by the rough waves
and the darkness fall!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Romance Point [3]
ROMANCE POINT [3]
esspeecee … [12.10.08]
O floral bed
En-bosom the,
Foot marks indelibly
-of her.
Bohemian me
Know well,
She’ll efface
Like a
Spry shadow.
Her balmy
Coquette feet will
Gush out,
But to -
Dumfound me
Achefully.
O floral bed
En-bosom foot prints,
My-
Romance Point
For an image
In my sterile cache.
End up
Game of romance
Before the mellow light
O you not
My Romance Point.
Copyright reserved by the Author
.
poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
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Straw Foot
I guess you didnt hear me
When I told you for the first time
Well dont you worry
It wont be the last
All I need a floorboard
An a wooden shoe
Step aside an let my lady through
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
Up an back around
See the high priest
He took my place
When the judge looks to me
He saw his sons face
Not gonna join you in
Your tower of babble, boy
Tired o that talkin
Im sick o that noise
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
Coverin ground
Im not alone
An looks can be deceivin
When we get down to it
Youre talkin when you
Should be leavin
Ive been to nebraska
It reminded me of spain
All the questions loaded
All my answers same
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hay foot, straw foot
Coverin ground
Let us not mince our words
Lets say it true this time
I need your forgiveness
Just like you need mine
Tell me how it is that
You dont want what hes given
It aint no sin son
To be forgiven
Hey foot, straw foot
Low we lay em down
Hey foot, straw foot
All over town
song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Must they exist?
Before birth, my name was not there.
Before birth, my foot prints were not there.
Before birth, no monument was for me.
After death, must these things live?
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Rover Chronicle
The rover leaves his home
Leaving his father with right hand
Leaving his mother with left hand
Leaving his brother with right foot
Leaving his childhood with left foot
He moves forward and release the burden
Put the cushion from his back
Put the robe from his shoulder
Put the wine from his waist
The rover goes and sacrifices all
Sacrifice his fellowship
Sacrifice his lover
Sacrifice his soul
He still moves forward though lost everything
The Gods condemn him
All mothers wail over him
Because the rover keeps moving forward
Leaving tears
Leaving past
Looking for redemption
For everything he left
When he moves forward
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Fear of the unknown
The wind was strong and the dust blew viciously.
Walking on a dirt road, not sure of my destination.
I encountered a coyote standing in the distance. My
first thought was to turn and run and then I
realized that might not be a good idea. I slowly
walked, placing one foot quietly in front of the
other, while keeping my eye on the coyote. The
animal did not move, it stood in the same position.
Fearful as I was, I didn’t want the animal to know
my fear. I bravely took step after step and walked
toward the road. Finally I reached a crossing in
the road. When I turned to look back the coyote
was gone. At that point, I felt sure I was safe and
continued to walk down the road. When I
approached an old shack at the road clearing, I
noticed paw prints on the soft ground. Immediately
I thought, what animal made those prints, surely
it wasn’t the coyote that I encountered earlier,
certainly not, don’t be silly I thought to myself.
Once again I continued to walk forward. I could
feel butterflies in my stomach. What were those
prints on the ground. Trying not to think about it,
I began to walk faster and faster. Suddenly I
heard a noise, it sounded like a scratching noise
behind me. Oh what now, could that be the
coyote. My heart was racing and the sweat
poured down my face causing my eyes to sting.
My vision blurred by my perspiration, I was beside
myself and was feeling very sick to my stomach.
Never before, have I been so afraid, never so unsure
of myself. I wanted to run, but once again
wondered if the animal that was following me
might run and attack me.
poem by Melvina Germain
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A Poem Called Monsoon Magic!
Our foot prints
On the dark damp sands
Of last evening
Rushed upon my heart
Once again...
It rained this morning too
Somehow the monsoon rain
Didn't erase the footprints
In stead it bathed them afresh...
12 Jun 2011
21.07hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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In Memory of an Old Man
he was an old man then...
6 foot 4, still strong
as an ox...
a carpenter...
and i was his helper;
building interstate bridges
in the south,
walking i-beams,
60 foot off the ground...
2.50 an hour!
we used to go
to his house
after work...
he'd scramble a dozen
eggs, or so...
and break out the sugarhead.
we'd spend hours
listening to him talk
about women, fighting,
loving, and just life!
carrying a sheet of plywood
on a windy day...
i wavered, one foot off the beam.
i felt his gnarled hand
grab my shoulder:
'you dont wanna go down there, boy! '
time has passed, and now i'm old...
and i see my daughters
wavering on the beam...
and i catch myself saying:
'you dont wanna go down there, girl! '
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A foot soldier
When I was hurt & lost someone dear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
When the going got tough with nothing to gear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
when the faith felt small & doubts really bigger
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
When the sky was dark & nothing seemed near
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
when the wounds were hurting with no immediate cure
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
when the hopes were grim & nothing was clear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
When storms came hard striking some fear
I did go on because I am a foot soldier
I fought & fought & I fought till the victory was sure
Yes, I could do it because I am a foot soldier
poem by Ameya Deshpande
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Unjust Inactions
When I was young and frolic
I was full of good many ideals
wishing to marry an handicapped girl
I apprised my parents, of such a proposal
Still, I remember that girl's rich face
innocently showing her afflicted legs
very hopefully, she awaited this connection to mature
but, my parents were old-fashioned; posted their rejection
I was just a tender man
submissive, polite, timid and a non-fighter
though it irked me to my inner most core
I had no guts nor vision for a war of nerves
as wished, by parents, I then married
Into a family with all rituals and falsehood
I am now 40 - do am I happy?
by twisting my life-line, what my parents have achieved!
I am ashamed to look back at my own foot-prints
where I miserably failed to give shape to those viable blue-prints
though outwardly, I look to be alright and fine
could anyone dive deep into my mind's bleeding down-lane?
poem by Santhana Louis
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