Traces
Each day is filled with tiny traces
Like footprints of a deer in snow
Or silky snail tracks in small places
And crab holes when the tide is low
Each breath exhaled and new step taken
Leaves markings not to be erased
Small cherished patterns fain forsaken
In nature’s cunning woven lace
The crumbs that fall from modest tables
Are soon retrieved by little ants
A spider’s web the stuff of fables
Embraces woodland’s lushest plants
We make a difference as we wander
Among the throng and rush of day
Our every movement filled with wonder
Touched by a gentle force at play
When pride and prejudice surround us
And things are quite beyond control
Just look at lowly trusting creatures
Their humble ways refresh the soul
No need to faint when your tracks wither
In heat of sun and loss of hope
That pearly snail keeps creeping hither
While deer and crabs still run and grope
Each day we live we leave small traces
Like footprints of a deer in snow
Or silky snail tracks in small places
Or crab holes when the tide is low.
poem by Liilia Talts Morrison
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Related quotes
A Self Spent
got this small self
small as a snail
slow
pacing like that old snail
that you know
something that you did not
touch
because of pity
got this tiny conscience
like a speck of dust
it is too small and perhaps
of lesser value
than any other self
in this lonely nook
i do not think anymore
how to spend it well
i got a day
or just a second
and i am spending it all
till i am no more.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tracks, Trails, Lines and pages
Tracks in forests… of woodland creatures
Trails of shooting stars in summer skies
Tracks of rockets o’er bloody battlefields
Traces of wrinkles round wizened eyes
Lines of wisdom on wrinkled faces
Lines of ants upon the floor
Lines of prose on parchment pages
Lines of carts inside the stores
Pages of life, inside old diarys
Pages dog-eared to mark the places
Pages filled with tales sad and fiery
Pages filled with empty spaces
poem by David Whalen
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It Must Have Been In Early Part Of Spring (Cornish Sonnet)
It must have been in early part of spring
that bees and butterflies were still around
I saw small things fluttering on a wing
some small deer were threading through the dark wood
leaving tiny tracks all over the ground
while silently, looking, grazing some stood
while some did disappear in the mist
sadness was in my heart on that bright day
while of them I got not a single gist
as some wildness did suddenly sweep in
before that old thick fog did burn away
and my sightseeing really did begin
It must have been in early part of spring
while some did disappear in the mist.
poem by Gert Strydom
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October [Octombrie]
As if it were an icon full of light
Inside my heart your lovely image looms,
And my own dreams – small apricot tree blooms –
Fall like the snow around it, soft and white.
And when I see you standing at the door
I leave my dreams and bow down at your feet;
I'm like a flake that's melting in the heat,
Under your eyes, which I so much adore.
But when you're bored and quickly go away,
When with small steps on narrow tracks you sway,
And trample on dead leaves with awe and fear,
I feel the autumn twilight in my breast,
I cannot think, I'm empty as a nest,
When the last swallows fly and disappear.
poem by Al. O. Teodoreanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Waiting For The Spider
how many small deaths?
nickels and dimes in dust filled pockets...
are we drifting off to sleep?
out to sea?
or further from the core?
we die in circles,
circles within circles.
with small short breaths hurled
on the hairy plate of eternity.
a thousand tiny fires,
built by unseen hands
on darkened roads...
a thousand tiny deaths!
or a thousand stop the world kisses,
when names and identities are forgotten,
if but for an eternal moment.
how many times must i be the butterfly?
the snail? the hummingbird flying backwards?
or just stagnant water in a cast aside tire...
waiting for the spider?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Tracks In The Snow
Like tracks in the snow our actions follow
Throughout our life, no matter where we go.
No matter which direction the wind may blow,
Tracks are always there imprinted in the snow.
Never covered; the pain of sins long past,
Mistakes in life follow like tracks in snow.
Looking behind the tracks winding too and fro,
Losing the light; in the gently falling snow.
poem by Derrick Fernie
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Winter Fantasy
Some experts say winter makes us sad
Days are shorter, sulight not as bright
But there is a truism, I might add
Despite short days, I love the night
To watch the moon reflect through trees
And count footprints in newly fallen snow
Feeling a chill with each passing breeze
Imagining I was playing down below
Feeling silky snow beneath my feet
Making tracks anyone can follow
Shaking the snow off as I cross the street
This is someone’s dream, I thought I’d borrow
poem by Frances Ayers
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The Little Crab
As the little crab climbed
To the top of the basket
Hoping to make an escape
The bigger crabs pulled him down
And when the consignment
Did reach the market place
The Fisherman’s son was delighted
To find a small crab in the bag
He picked it up carefully
Drooling at the thought of soup
But this time the little crab
Reacted fast, he bit the boy’s hand
Falling quickly to the ground
As the child reduced his grip
Undaunted by the crack in his shell
He scuttled away in search of
A safer place, far away from
Fishing baskets, boys and big crabs.
poem by Sandra Martyres
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Stop Dead
Stop!
Stop!
Stop dead,
Stop stop stop stop stop stop
I pulled up at a west end junction (seeker of attention)
A full body kit and bass bins pumping (size up competition)
Come on red light, get into green,
I hit the brake, I must be dreaming..
Im stop! (stop), dead! (dead), in my tracks (in my tracks)
Got to fix on you.
Dont wanna loose you, from my sight
Where ya going to?
Gotta know now..
Stop! (stop), dead! (dead), in my tracks (in my tracks)
Got to fix on you.
Dont wanna loose, you from my sight
Where ya going to?
Oh-oh-oh
Ive got my eyes on the action (killer reputation)
Heat crazed in full satisfaction (become a phaser? )
Do what you do and do it to me,
Body in motion, now you see me
(chorus)
Gotta know know.. stop!
Come on now, come on now
Come on now, come on now
Wise up to remain young victim (come on, ways of attraction)
A full scale attack on the system (come on, no one visor? )
Do what you do and do it to me,
Im into red line territory
And im..
(chorus)
Stop!, dead in my tracks again,
Im stop dead in my tracks
Stop!, in my tracks (yeah)
Im stop dead in my tracks
(oh-oh) gotta know know..
Stop! (stop), dead! (dead), in my tracks (in my tracks)
Stop! (stop), dead! (dead), in my tracks (in my tracks)
Stop! (stop), dead! (dead), in my tracks (in my tracks)
Stop! (stop), dead! (dead), in my tracks (in my tracks)
Stop! (stop), dead! (dead), in my tracks (in my tracks)
Stop! (stop), dead! (dead), in my tracks (in my tracks)
Stop! (stop), dead! (dead), in my tracks (in my tracks)
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aiming Back
I have seen up;
I have seen down
I have been sideways
crammed into my room;
felt small
in small places;
cried dry tears
and lay face down
from embarrasments
earned and not earned;
crept into places too small for me
and feel a thousand tiny cuts a day.
Today I leave and aim my self home
where there are people who love me.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Each Creature Within Nature
From the great whales of the ocean to the garden snail in his shell
Each creature within Nature does serve it's purpose well
And the creatures we dismiss as vermin are not vermin at all
They contribute to Nature in some way though their contribution may seem small
What can be said of Nature that has not been said before
She is the one immortal she will live forever more
Many of her creatures gone to extinction but new life forms she create
The one the artists and the writers feel inspired to celebrate
The one who lives by her own law and does things in her own way
From our every walk in Nature we learn every day
'Tis not out of a sense of joy that the male bird sings his song
But to warn neighbour males of his own kind that this patch to him belong
The creatures us humans dismiss as vermin not so in Nature's eyes
And Nature's ways are far more complex than we even realize.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Snowball
My baby took our love
And then she rolled it up
Rolled it up a hill
Like a ball of snow
Like a snowball grows
Until it gets too big
Until she lost control
And it rolled back down
And it rolled back down
And it rolled back down
And it rolled back down
She took a tiny bit
And rolled it up again
Slower than before
She went a step too far
She had to let it go
I saw it go straight down
My baby turned around
Started up again
Started up again
Started up again
Started up again
Eyes were made for looking
Hands were made for holdin
Hearts were made for lovin
Lips were made for kissin
Legs were made for walkin
Tracks were made to follow
Thats what Im gonna do
Two tracks
In the snow
Two tracks
Up that hill
My heart broke
When my baby left
Two tracks behind
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Small Step
So many people
Need to go so many miles
How do we move them
To where the answer lies
Reach out to the ocean
Beyond the stars that shine
Weve got to take one small step in time
If we are the dreamers
Then the world must be the dream
Driven to question
All the things weve never seen
We search the horizon
Looking for a sign
Weve got to take one small step in time
One step beyond
All our hopes and our passion
There is the light of the universe flashin
All that it takes is one leap of faith
One small step, (one small step)
One small step in time
Deep in the darkness
(deep in the blackness)
Theres a wind that never dies
(theres a wind that never dies)
Out in the vastness
(out in the vastness)
Theres a road across the sky
(a road across the sky)
Out there is the reason
That we were meant to find
Weve got to take one small step in time
Weve got to take one small step in time
(one small step, one small step)
One small step in time
(one small step, one small step)
One small step in time
(one small step, one small step)
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Deer Tracks
Beautiful, sobbing
high-geared fucking
and then to lie silently
like deer tracks in the
freshly-fallen snow beside
the one you love.
That's all.
poem by Richard Brautigan
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Far From Where I Am/ Life Goes On Elsewhere
FAR FROM WHERE I AM/
Far from where I am
Life goes on elsewhere
I am in my own small world
There is Beauty here too
But the lights of the distance call
And I cannot follow them.
Small is all for one who
Like a snail cannot see
The broom of the balcony
he will soon be brushed off.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Stray Dogs Lapping
stray dogs lapping
at the bloody tracks
the homeless leave in the snow.
burnt out Marlboro fingers
shaking with the cold...
small children's big eyes screaming
with silent stinking fear!
and the halls and the walls
of the traders vibrate with smoke...
nothing gained, nothing lost,
in the land of nothing....
my grandmother's Bible lays by
the stove that was never empty...
my father sits and stares at the walls,
listening for the echo of....
my mother's voice....
and all the things we believed in
are lost,
forgotten....
stray dogs lapping
at the bloody tracks
the homeless leave in the snow...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Sent By Sparrows...
if i undress your eyes very gently,
will i find the last vestiges of fire?
did the great wings of hunger
scar the skies of your soulless darkness?
is the screech of the owl
hidden in your tight numbed lips?
does the snail trail of my body,
still cling to your need in the moonlight?
must my fingers fumble with the latch,
and my footprints haunt your sleeplessness?
or am i just the tree that fell
in the fury of the storm?
am i the leaf floating on the still pond?
the things i buried in the small wooden box,
that night beneath the willow.
perhaps among them were you and i....
will the spiders resurrect us?
if i am dead then let it be,
for what's given is what remains.
and the small imprint on your pillow
that smells faintly of me,
is just a bad dream sent by sparrows!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Snail Shell
Sir hand
Or is it maam
I fell out of my right place again
And you
Considered me
And now Im where a snail has to be
I want to thank you for putting me back in my snail shell
I want to thank you for putting me back in my snail shell
Was it something you would do for anybody?
Was it what youd only do for me?
I need to know because you see
I want to thank you for putting me back in my snail shell
Friend
Look what you gave
And how can you ever be repaid?
How may I give you a hand
From the position at your feet where I stand?
So let me thank you for putting me back in my snail shell
Id like to thank you for putting me back in my snail shell
Was it something you would do for anybody?
Was it what youd only do for me?
I need to know because you see
I want to thank you for putting me back in my snail shell
Snail shell
Thank you
Snail shell
Thank you
Ah
Ah
Ah
Was it something you would do for anybody?
Was it what youd only do for me?
Or was it something where you acted when you saw the need
And knew that there would be a way the act could be repaid
And so it may, but for today
I want to thank you for putting me back in my snail shell
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Small Soul
Small soul’s alone in the night
It’s small
But it’s still a soul
The tiny light
That shines in the dark
Small soul glows dim in the fight
It’s small
But it’s really a soul
Though it looks weak
It’s struggling inside
Small soul keeps attracting my heart
It’s small
But it’s a beautiful soul
It may easily disappear
But it could also grow stronger
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Animal Eyes Staring
we have become hunger,
animal eyes staring,
waiting on movement.
there are shadows that talk,
and those that have nothing to say,
when time itself becomes an enemy.
do we walk on water,
do we dive and swim?
or do we drown with hesitation?
when illusions become empty plates,
filling stained cups with nothingness.
there's always another door,
another path yet untrodden.
and there are small victories
in footprints in fresh fallen snow.
for now we watch the cat,
and pray for those in the news.
following the trail of the ants,
to the edge of the spider's web!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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