Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Steve Page Jul 13
I stepped onto the wind
not knowing (well not certain)
of where it would take me

I was happy to walk on the wind
as the storm was becoming too predictable
a path

I stepped onto a breeze
(less predictable than the wind I find)
guessing where it would take me

My third step took me
at last
onto a faint resonance
of song
- it took me to the bridge

and I danced
walking on the wind would be cool.  Walking on song - way cooler.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 4
10,000 steps to a poem

<~>
walk to save my visions, my subterfuge-self, trying to
encapsulate the moments, seconds of nano-instances of a
tableau of histories, of actions becoming interactions,
a physical mitosis, ground into one human paste of word-cells
by a singular mortar and pestle that more than blends, but condenses

walk in Whitman’s footsteps, prowl old cobbled
streets seeing them anew, listening to the patois
of each skyward pathway, a commingling of
catechisms, Tefilot, Salah, Stuti Karana, into a stampede becoming a tornado funnel of a multivariate alphabets singularity - a prayer|poem returning to birth-mother

rush homeward desperate to retain the holy mess of verbal music,
before aged eyes release the visions, into a heavenly lost but found
depot of single lefty gloves, snatches and refrains, hymnals, phrases,
10,000 preservation band steps keeping but scraps, weeping
for the so much lost, yet blessing-uttering thankful for this one,
to a one


who has kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to
this moment, to this season.


4/4/21
1:50pm
~writ by night, daylight born~
Passover/ Easter Sunday
idyllic steps
are bare
in green
make months
in golden
year the
gavotte in
her little
black dress
that the
music of
spring in
vapor of
the string
makes her
frosty as
the hills
Out of the hell of this world we all have to find heaven
and the steps to go through are said to be one to seven.
This world then is a stepping stone to that which is higher above
and the essential requisite for the journey is ever increasing love.
_________
© 2021 George Krokos
From "The Quatrains" ongoing writings since the early '90's.
Learning to be a literary poet
Keeping scientific temper intact
I learn first step
What does meter mean in poetry
How is it different from meter in physics?
Speed of light in meter per second  defines physical meter
You sit in National Physical Laboratory
To determine it exactly
Meter in poetry is defined
In terms of feet and syllables
In the era of SI Units
Feet is absolutely obsolete
Here in poetry you define meter in terms of feet
Feet can be of two or three syllables
An uncertainty of more than thirty three percent
How tolerant is poetry!
Things don't stop here
Unlike physical meter
Poetic meter is of different lengths
Of one foot, two feet, ..., eight feet
Defining number of syllables
Pattern of emphasis
In a poetic line
A step towards writing
Poetry literary style!
karly codr Jan 18
it shouldn't be like this
for every step forward
it's like two steps back
for every day i think i get better
something happens
and i fall again
Grand Piano Dec 2020
I haven’t been truly “fine” in a long time
I’ve mastered the art of smiling
And crying when no ones around
But the mask I so carefully crafted is slowly chipping away
I’m starting to stumble over the steps in this play I put on everyday
Maybe it’s time to let the world see what happens when the curtains close and the performance ends
This piece kinda goes with my other one called Steps
Sydney Nov 2020
growing
               up
                     my dear
                                   is steps
                                               step
                                                     by step
                                                            ­     you
                                                             ­          grow
                                                            ­                at the end
                                                             ­                         of the steps
                                                           ­                                            is death
The hard moments are the parts where you trip.
Sydney ©2020
Next page