"foothold" poems
From my perch,spanning the vast,
fathomless sky at night,
where 100 billion galaxies
vie with one another, for foothold,
shoals of fish on the swim
in diverse forms of being
( or nothingness of various kind)
in cycles of birth from dust,
growth, death in dark holes and rebirth.
I now see only a lone star above,
cowering at a far corner, in silence
anxiety ridden as she's alone
in this celestial grand opera house.
Wonder, where had gone all,
the spectacular display of star power,
profligacy of fish of ocean above
proudly displaying just yesterday.
Lessons, on equanimity perhaps,
nature teaches,writing on the night sky.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 7:42 AM UTC
Waiting near the shore
Trying to find a foothold
On sands of uncertainties
Giving way to the burden
Waiting for the waves
To sweep you off your feet
Now the waves come rushing
To kiss the fortunes
Get ready to surf
The waves of ecstasy and freedom
For you shall ride with them
To the shores of beauty
The sun kissed land waits for you
With welcome hands
Sea of opportunities here
To feel the warmth of promise, again
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
Snaking down my wrist, beside pulsing, blue-green veins
Were obnoxious scars that left their mark
As if I needed another reminder of how some wounds could never heal.
This wrist of mine weathered more harm
Than a house in the eye of a hurricane
It bore the brunt of raw, undiluted, out of control anger
And frustration that my reflection brings.
As I stare back at the mirror,
I try to decipher the meaning behind beauty
And wonder if I could ever be like her.
But as my reflection cries and I see the swollen, red-rimmed eyes
I know only that I am not attractive
Not enough for you to think of me as worthy.
The angry welts and slashes are not merely scars
But ashes of the remains of my feelings,
the aftermath third degree burns
After you were done with your self-justified critique.
After you took away my light and peace.
That day I did not lost only you
But pieces of me I thought was mine.
You burned everything I thought I knew;
In the flames of doubt and insecurity,
I lost my mind.
I lost my foothold and you let me fall down the darkest abyss
Into my own version of hell
Straight out of my worst nightmare
When I saw a glimmer of light again as a breathing corpse,
No more than a frankenstein fixed together with thread
I saw the masterpiece of red on my wrists
And I saw that I was no longer whole.
All I know now is that I am afraid
Of being left behind by my own shadow
In this darkness I know now.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
Here I tread on a woodland promontory—
With wings and wind conjuring the rains,
All is vastness and shroud, open, empty,
Even the light is carried away in silence,
My flesh all but smearings on the tableau,
Foothold of dream within disrupted dream,
Our hands once reached out into forever,
Now my soul is seeping from veined cairns,
Cut chains, mist, rains hollowing the wind.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
The dead brown of winter gives rise to yellow cups in lacey dress,
lifting their bowed heads to take in the golden days of spring.
Mornings heralded by melodic songs calling out for spring partners
in trees filled with cascades of color and buds waiting to open.
The snow and blackness has lifted and life has begun once more.
Forgiveness has found a foothold in this crushed heart.
Like a doctor sewing wounds and stopping the drain of lifeblood,
I have found a way to heal and make it back to life once again.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 12:45 AM UTC
Here I tread on a woodland promontory—
With wings and wind conjuring the rains,
All is vastness and shroud, open, empty,
Even the light is carried away in silence,
My flesh all but smearings on the tableau,
Foothold of dream within disrupted dream,
Our hands once reached out into forever,
Now my soul is seeping from veined cairns,
Cut chains, mist, rains hollowing the wind.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
Here I tread on a woodland promontory—
With wings and wind conjuring the rains,
All is vastness and shroud, open, empty,
Even the light is carried away in silence,
My flesh all but smearings on the tableau,
Foothold of dream within disrupted dream,
Our hands once reached out into forever,
Now my soul is seeping from veined cairns,
Cut chains, mist, rains hollowing the wind.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
I need a hug,
but not a quick,
lazy hug
during which the touch feels like less of a comforting gesture,
but more of an awkward happening
with limp arms hanging like gigantic weights,
pulling you into the floor.
Not one where you aren't ever really sure if you should hang on
for just a moment more,
or if you should let go,
and release into an uncomfortable silence
that lasts until someone coughs hesitantly.
The sound reverberating through the atomosphere,
leaving a heavy draft of atypical embarrassment at the contact,
waiting for someone else to bring up some random topic of discussion
to break the icy and heavy silence.
No.
I need a real hug.
The kind where someone who loves you see your pain
even though you might not say anything.
Reading the waters behind your smiling eyes,
seeing the hidden hurt behind your irises,
they grab you,
perhaps by your slightly shacking shoulders,
and pull you into their warm encasement.
Holding you tightly
and safely
in their care.
And the two of you just hang onto this affectionate moment
of profound concern among brethren of a species
The kind where time seems to stop
in admiration of this subtle outpouring of unified allegiance
before which the universe bows.
I need the kind of hug that demonstrates a fierce loyalty.
Devotion that knows
should the object of such intense friendship fall into the pit,
from whence none return unscathed in some way,
they will throw down a rope
a foothold
a salvation,
and they will pull that person from the depths of the darkness
maybe even at the risk of falling in themselves.
Yes.
That is the kind of esoteric gesture
that can be so impactful on those in pain,
regardless of whether that pain be great or small.
And should you find that you receive love like that,
treasure it.
And should you find that you give love like that,
never forget how special and rare someone like you is.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 8:20 PM UTC
Believing in you, I lost my own way,
losing myself in you and to you
My better half I called you, cliché,
but you were my whole, all I could see.
Everything I am was defined by who you are.
Now I am left without any of me,
but a dream of who I was
before we came to be.
Beginning again without a foothold,
holding to the past like a lifeline tied to you.
Lost in the memory, blind to what could be,
looking all of the time for me.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 12:53 AM UTC
My feelings on the world are a complex dichotomy. If I could control the world, my rule would be to control nothing. To give freedom and agency to everyone and let every culture and kind shine as they do and **** superiority and focus on growth, not **********
But, not all people aren't as communally minded as that. And though in theory I could change the rules, I can't change people.
In its own way, that's beautiful. The visceral strength and resiliency of humanity fascinates me, with the chaotic undertones that lie beneath every eye. I love the spectrum of pain and brilliance it brings. But it also makes a utopian world of understanding and lack of control impossible to keep people safe; because never will there be a human race that doesn't at least have some people craving absolute control.
I think this dichotomy within myself parallels my standing with humanity very well. There is something on most every end I can find fascinating: free will, selflessness, unpredictability, tenacity. But also I can never seem to be pleased with how humanity could be but never amount to.
Not that it gives me much trouble. I've always kept humanity at an arm's length, choosing books and stories over the flesh-bags in front of my face. The only thing I ever struggled with was not being normal with my human relationships, and trying to make my methods match.
My methods won't match because I might as well be an alien for all I care about directly interacting with humanity.
Yet, I love humanity, in a way. I could write about human transcendence and growth until I die. I am madly in love with human potential. But I don't love humans. I don't love a species that muscle arms its way into dominance and can be arrogant and small-minded. After all we've managed to accomplish, and we're still start wars over skin color and scapegoating? Its laughable, in a way.
I suppose I look at humanity as if I was an alien scientist. I have no way of measuring things or conducting research because I'm foreign, but I can see the greatness in their eyes and am floored by it. Yet I also see the violence in their eyes and am repelled by it. The most tragic, push and pull love of my life has been for this species.
I've learned lately I'm okay with being alien. But its strange to find a foothold in a world where I feel constantly at odds and different.
But I like strange, so I think its what works best.
Between humanity and me, things are complicated. Things are wonderful and painful and all worth the while in its own, ****** way. I suppose all I have is my words and I'll share them, and humanity can listen if it will. I hope it will. I hope it can help people who feel like aliens too, and maybe then being an alien and a human can be easier.
But for those things, we'll just have to see.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 8:32 AM UTC
I've slowly fallen, like Satan, from the graces
swapped paces and places, to capture different faces
but the wanderlust on my breath is strong, taste this
It's hard to bond when half the time I'm gone
black hair, curves, four leafed clover thong,
afternoons snoozing and browsing Netflix
flashes of my life till I'm on to the next bit
I can't get no respite, I just might break my next flight
for this chick, hopeless romantic, can't stand it
but lately I've been ghost on this whole scene
mind stolen like my future is a bandit
who's mind set is all about the greed
a fiend for the green presidents that sink further into my dreams
calling my name, telling me it's worth the pain to gain
have pockets on swoll with no shame to get a foothold in the game
thousands would be pocket change but the man in the mirror
doesn't look so set, half ****** dressed for bed
wishing he could disappear for a bit, maybe never come back
the king of disappearing, yeah he likes the sound of that.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 3:51 AM UTC
How can I recall the past? when I can’t even remember your face, I can’t even remember your voice.
All I've got is your jewellery box and your writing in chalk, probably not worth a lot.
I save the box for the moments of loss that feel like I’m scraping nails down a wall with no foothold.
Within the lining I can, if I concentrate, recall your scent. Sometimes I open up your old lip-balm and wear it sparingly. Loose as it may be, it’s as though you’re reality and touching me.
Emersed in these moments, I forget, you’ll always be someone I never knew.
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 8:48 PM UTC
Oh Rock! Upon You I build my foothold
Don't let me wander off astray
Tie a knot of a bell on my pleading throat
You who reign over all, King of Old!
Seasick and half dead from the flooding dangers of my vanity
Help! I'm getting ****** down-dry, a slice of my deadly miry pie
You're hand not too short to lend me life anew and of serenity
Oh Endless! Awakened from a dire sleep
I come before Your tireless feet
Bathe in springs of abundant grace
'Til my hands grow tireless toiling the earth for the shade of Your face
Time may move its hands of tricks and deceit
Stagnant pool of smirking clocks
Right before I accept defeat
Stay my hand with everlasting wings
Oh Steadfast! Aiming towards love with eyes so true
To You who deserves where all praise due is due
You look through me, creepy candy coating
Embraced with arms everlasting
Love of which knows no cease
One desire of which heals all disease
Dogs lie await to be fed by the crumbs of You, Purest.
Show me great and mighty things thy mind hast not knowest
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC
Now I am blessed by the fellowship of man.
Poem # 031.
Philip : 20/10/20
Now I am blessed by the fellowship of man.
Of the pure unadulterated unconditional love
We men and women that inhabit the earth
In the constant search for a secure foothold
And wishing to be all things to all men around
Men and Women and genders betwixt the two
Being now away that we have a brotherhood
Loved by a community of lifelong friends
Earth Angels and guides which hold the skills
Skills which are perfected and so peculiar
Standing alone in their particular peculiarities
Excellent and everlasting good friends of mine
Diligently looking after their own fellowship.
Boys and girls coming out to play in the world
Young and old rich and poor sick and healthy
Together in a loving unconditional relationship
Having no blood ties save for holding the spirit
Especially the wondrous God spirit of passion
From whatever theological following you hold.
Every good turn you do unto others is returned
Loving your neighbor as thyself is a starter.
Loving your father and mother well deserved
Or your brother or sister , cousin or kin.
With blood relatives it’s seen as a given.
So be it for the population of the World.
Having established that relationship you’re OK
In that there is nobody to hate anymore
People outside the fellowship may gossip
Or continually sandbagged a reputation
From now on let us develop this “Fellowship “
Making time to consider the other fellow.
Accounting for a balanced life of compassion
Now I am blessed by the fellowship of man.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 3:52 AM UTC
Ethereal and Base a harmony so diametric a solid.
Wisdom's forgiveness lands to the unyielding new,
white spray on black lava, merging
elemental minerals in salt water.
Life the mediator, yearns for compromise
algea harvests sunlight at the hard shore, grows into plants
fish munch coral creating sand washing up, a tree's foothold creating soil...
can rock become Earth any other way?
Mother's beauty, an unknowable generous smile
and confident grace from the sun.
Ages
sitting wrinkled and depleted to her waist,
beauty transforms
into unknowable generous laughter alighting graciously from wise eyes,
like a flock of Heaven's doves so close to home
stirred by her running children: daughter and son.
All the while all the yearning is unrequited.
For her children, Beauty is vertigo,
painful reality rooted to the shore.
Eyes long for the horizon, Vision Country
between sky holding its breath and water measuring out patience,
The heart spills out futile on the crystalline sea,
but Sadness, belonging to clear water,
lightly buoys lonely Ecstasy,
Completes the voyage.
The Vision pairs selfless love with unmet desire,
opposites' harmony the firmament,
but the sound breaks from tension and the echoes fade,
and the senses footing gives way;
vertigo with dove's wings tied shut.
Descending minuscule between dissipation
falling through molecules of bliss,
and diffusing atoms of despair,
to the last remaining positive and negative
and the tension's silver thin wire between.
It cuts tied wings free,
slingshots the dove's soul back up,
at the last second, the tension's iridescent thread tangles loosely on her foot.
She hurtles back up through the scales of size:
Microns, amoeba, minnows, birds, primates, people,
over trees, looking down at cities, mountains, yet higher
borderless nations, green and sand continents,
and again all the crystalline blue seas.
The silver filament draws taut, holds the dove's ascent,
wings slowing in awe as she views Mother Gaea
her intensely brilliant sphere accompanied by vivid tiny stars.
in a cold cold soundless night...
Grandmother teaching her children to fly;
Beauty's yearning realized complete.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 8:52 PM UTC
The wind whips
and scrapes the walls
like ivy looking for its foothold
round windowsills
and rotten wood
winter chills a new years cold
scouring for the way in
rolling barrels of fury
tumultuous spasms
unrelenting open hands
slaps the face of every bush and branch
with each pass
the lawns and meadows left
rippled like a poorly tacked carpet
the scaffolding of men rests on brace and bolts
and handshakes with the granite walls
adornments flap their benign capes
eddies of grit spiral, walking tall
Inside I watch you
like a ****** staring at the passing crowd
but not knowing where to look;
only you are everywhere
blankets and lights and even the TV
are curtains to pretend your not outside;
I need not venture out yet
at least,
not until morning
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 9:37 AM UTC
There are parts of me that
lay unrested - they are ghosts
in hallways, they are smoke
suffocating in locked rooms.
Sometimes I can feel
myself fading and it takes
all I have to pull myself
back from the abyss.
I'm walking on ice, yet
to find a stable foothold in
life seems unprecedented.
I still haven't learnt when
my hands began writing
rather than shaking.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
My shadow has departed
A dim luminescence has not the power to prevail
So casts my follower to the depths
To wallow in ineffable sorrow
Where heartache mutates to anguish, to scourge, to death
And lucidity has no foothold
And light, no admirer
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 7:45 AM UTC
*You see me and I see you.
I have never met someone like you before.
You all of a sudden say you like me, is that true?
You open up a before locked up door.
As a warm cup of coffee you warm up my soul.
It is a feeling I had forgot.
But now I am no longer in control.
I guess I like you a lot.
You make me feel like I am 10 feet tall.
I can almost touch the blue sky.
But what if I loose my foothold and fall.
Would you catch me or let me die?
I feel so carefree in the cold and thin air.
I can see all the tiny people passing by.
But when I turned around, you were no longer there.
Did you forget me or was all of this just an evil lie?
Well, I guess there is no more to talk about.
So I suppose I should just let it dwell.
And as a candlestick being burned out.
I now bit you a bittersweet farewell.*
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 11:36 AM UTC
weighted scales fallen from eyes that I do not own
other monsters come beneath and rise over them
we place napkins so lightly arising and weep
tea time, flowers, amenable, soothing
running to get a foothold, three steps before a leap
none will say goose goose gander to you or I
nobody wants games now in my rubble of storm
all is a heap of torn down things floating away
hold onto your hat, it's deep here, a gamble
there are footholds in a marsh inside my dream
pitons need sharpening, moon shines merciless
as we tumble into said ravine on one long string
lost, as begun
never to
rise
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 1:12 AM UTC
They say time heals all wounds
Honestly that is ********
Sometimes it doesn't matter what you do
Pain has dug too deep of a pit
There are instances where you lack the strength
Or can't find a foothold to climb
The distance up is just too great of a length
And then what good is time?
Some cuts never quit bleeding
They just slowly run dry your veins
Every day the sting keeps on repeating
Years pass yet the hurting remains the same
Mar 11, 2021
Mar 11, 2021 at 5:45 PM UTC
Let us speak only in tongues
For all that wasn't made obvious
May present its true meaning in the unintelligible
Let us converse in stanzas
For what wasn't clearly heard
May perhaps show itself between these lines
Let us exaggerate and romanticise
For all that was spouted bland
May be heightened to receive some light
Let us exchange and trade through poetry
For all that's lacking in common words
May secure a foothold in the readers' hearts
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 10:02 AM UTC
*Life is worthwhile when you see the sunrise
Listening to the chirpy birds making merry
Glinting dewdrops are nature’s solitaire
Pirouetting on the edges with nimble feet
Sun rays kissing life into all the half sleepy heart
Waking up to the fresh aroma of pristine dawn
Walking on bare grass to get a strong foothold
Feeling one with nature embracing me tight
It’s a symphony of the grandest orchestra
Starting our day with a pledge in our heart
In making this day all the more worthwhile*
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
Now I am blessed by the fellowship of man.
Poem # 031.
Philip : 20/10/20
Now I am blessed by the fellowship of man.
Of the pure unadulterated unconditional love
We men and women that inhabit the earth
In the constant search for a secure foothold
And wishing to be all things to all men around
Men and Women and genders betwixt the two
Being now away that we have a brotherhood
Loved by a community of lifelong friends
Earth Angels and guides which hold the skills
Skills which are perfected and so peculiar
Standing alone in their particular peculiarities
Excellent and everlasting good friends of mine
Diligently looking after their own fellowship.
Boys and girls coming out to play in the world
Young and old rich and poor sick and healthy
Together in a loving unconditional relationship
Having no blood ties save for holding the spirit
Especially the wondrous God spirit of passion
From whatever theological following you hold.
Every good turn you do unto others is returned
Loving your neighbor as thyself is a starter.
Loving your father and mother well deserved
Or your brother or sister , cousin or kin.
With blood relatives it’s seen as a given.
So be it for the population of the World.
Having established that relationship you’re OK
In that there is nobody to hate anymore
People outside the fellowship may gossip
Or continually sandbagged a reputation
From now on let us develop this “Fellowship “
Making time to consider the other fellow.
Accounting for a balanced life of compassion
Now I am blessed by the fellowship of man.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 5:35 AM UTC