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annh Mar 2019
whispers of architecture
footprints in the dust
I WAS HERE
7-5-3
rose Feb 2019
Sometimes I imagine us holding hands,
Walking along the harbor:
You, telling stories of all these lost years
       like a pelican begging for food
Making music out of my invisible tears

But maybe instead of holding your hand
I should hold on to the future
And stop chasing your footprints in the sand
Only to be led nowhere.
I will no longer swim in these tears.
I have felt the ache of the salt burn on my skin for far too long.
It’s not worth docking on this pier
If you don’t treasure me like the shells along your shore.

So I set sail.
I will find a new island to call my own &
Sculpt the land like shaping clay on a pottery wheel.

I will treasure all of my shells and secrets
The way you did not treasure me.
And for once, I will command the sea.
seekai Feb 2019
Walking hand in hand on the beach
Our footprints in the sand
The cool summer wind that breathes
It’s life across the land.

I see the summer memories
That float by in my eyes
I feel the taste of happiness blow
As I stare up at the skies

Summer has held many great things.
Parties, silly fun.
But one thing I won’t forget
Is our time in the sun.

I feel warm when I’m next
To you. Walking side by side.
On this beach as we relive the times
Where we all laughed and cried.

It’s summer that gave us this
I'll remember that when you go
I’ll hold your hand and keep you close
But you’ll leave one day, I know.

So I reach the end of the strip
The water lapping at our feet
The summer thoughts that now fly by
Oh, they’re good but bittersweet.

The summer has now reached an end
But I need you by my side.
Too late, you’re gone.
Walked back into the tide.
this was the first proper poem that I wrote when I was younger, and sparks the beginning of my passion for writing. it's personal, filled with memories and written just after one of the most memorable summers of my life.
Sean Achilleos Dec 2018
For years I turned right
For years I turned left
Believing it would bring me some form of happiness
Perhaps the lack of Love in my life caused me to do so
However I soon discovered that turning only in one direction
Left me moving in a circle
Thus was my cycle ... Thus was my life
Going round and round like a Ferris wheel
In ways I guess it kept me sane
In practice it wasted a lot of time ... Precious time
And so my soul had to be dragged through the dark woods
Lost in a maze
A whirlpool called life
A gloomy forest filled with hungry wolves
The only way out was to try all exits ... Break the pattern
To turn in all directions
From afar I could see a light
This light reflected ... As light usually does
But this light also attracted
I focused on it ... Progressed to where it was coming from
I was not afraid
I ignored the growling sounds of wolves trying to close in on me
Gnashing their teeth as if they could already ******* blood
I soldiered on towards the light
Finally I had reached the open door
I stepped into the light as if it had been waiting for me
Then I turned to see from whence I had come
But the ocean water had washed my footprints away
I was standing on a sandy shore
Children playing in the golden sand ... Building sandcastles
People sunbathing ... Sapphire blue waters
In the air the distinct smell of coconut
A mirror in the sky reflecting my life story
I was able to edit it ... pause and delete
Cut out the bad parts
But then I realised that without them my journey would've been incomplete
Written by Sean Achilleos 21 December 2018©
www.facebook.com/SeanAchilleosOfficial/
Sean Achilleos' Music is available on the following platforms:
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pistachio Dec 2018
Ground's bare but we two filled it
With footprints chasing each other heartily
But those were superseded past a minute
With footmarks of separating ways painfully.
Our footprints show the blissful start and sorrowful end of our love.
Dani Oct 2018
"A Psalm of Life" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
What the heart of the young man said to the Psalmist

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!APsalmof_Life

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,—act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;—

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
This spoke to me so much so, that I had to bring it here for others.
TheMystiqueTrail Sep 2018
On this frosty morning
the dew-jewelled shimmering grass
calls me to immortalise my naked footprints
on its sparkling green carpet.

The mural needs to be perfect,  
    it says!
Anna Sep 2018
Oh Sahara,
Our souls
are getting poorer
than your sand spreading wide.

What once was called ours,
Now is called as "mine".

Like a thirsty homeless
Crawling on your sand for a waterdrop,
Our soul is crawling on this world for hope;
While its hopeless scream doesn't stop.

Oh Sahara,
This world is becoming more like you,
There's no hope like there's no water,
Just mirage of fake hopes,
Like mirage of oasis,
Full of life and always blue.

The footprints on your sand
Are fading Sahara,
But the scares on my soul
Still are bleeding blood,
Still are bleeding pain.

Oh Sahara,
The granules of your sand
Are endless but not a lot
Compared to the pieces
of my poor broken soul.
We are not supposed to just sit here and wait for the change to happen, to wait for something beautiful to occur. We have to stand up now, and become the beautiful change this world's needing.
We are humans, a beautiful creation of God, and we are meant to spread love not hate, we are meant to make each-other happy, we are meant to bring the sun into each-other's soul,
we are supposed to have a shop and trade desserts not guns.
harlon rivers Aug 2018
.
The waves spilled the rising tide
back into the scattered footprints  in the sand
deeply entrenched in life’s mystery,
receding into every breaking wave


A stiff sea breeze put back every grain of sand,
elements of a larger object gathers,
gravity firmed, into the silent shoreline chasms—
a beheld essence washed out to sea
by the fugitive tides and retreating sea-foam


Soon all trodden traces visibly vanish;
unmarked mileposts on a metaphysical pathway
slip away back to a windswept shoreline
and elapsing summer tide


Seabirds glide in slow-motion,
held sway into the shapeless gusts —
as if feathered puppets hovering,
hanging from the rafters
of the burgeoning orange sky


There's an uncommon peace in the renaissance;
effervescent crisp ocean air filling
the indefinable emptiness
marooned within each heartbeat’s echo


Each new breath inhaled,  disappearing within
the unhealed hollow of every thing once believed;
fully aware this life is unholdable as time,
yet feeling many things deeply retained
    in each passing moment—
slipping away like a handful of sand
sifting through all these hands once held


Presence becoming wreathed in a miasma of stillness,
space that levitates like an unpredictable fog
that seeps into the gnawing voids
of an unsated hunger



harlon rivers  ...  August 1st,  2018
a piece from the TRAVELOGUE collection:
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/27104/travelogue/

Getting away from my ordinary life maze seems to be changing perspective; moments still unfold as they are intended, but there is less peripheral distraction, more focus on the simple things that enrich life in the moment.

I did not plan on posting anything else until back to daily Internet access
in Fall ... plus, much I've scribbled these days, seems derivative of the last  pieces i've published: that said, this is of the present moment and as close to peace as I've tread in eons:  Thank you for taking the time to check out something newly written at a time when my web access and participation @ HePo is sporadic at best.   :)  rivers
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