Footprints in the snow, like life

Trying out new patterns, influenced by poems I've been reading (((you know who you are))). Justice not done, but this his poem is a mix of me, a little of you and a sort of serious Dr Seuss I think!

(Note: When I wrote this, I thought the word 'polemic' meant 'overly long piece of writing'. I now know it doesn't but keeping it in with this meaning as I like the sound of the word. Disappointed it doesn't mean what I thought!)

Walk out this morning,

Alive and frosty and free.

Thoughts come, then verses, they come to me.

Each thought a poem,

So I start to surmise,

I'll keep hold of the thoughts to realise.

My mind thinks in rhythms,

Begins to form phrases.

Damn! Each poem’s made up of repetitive hazes.

And my mind, fifty four,

Dulled by age and abuses.

How will it hold on to my poetic choices?

Space brings the solution to both my dilemmas.

Alone on the hill, footprints striding like life,

I don't need to fret, don’t need to have strife.

I can change-up my style, adjust my horizons.

I have a story to tell, perhaps a polemic.

I can move away from theme-based poetic.

I can let the thoughts flow and weave them with magic

By repeating one phrase that speaks most profound,

Footprints in snow, fixed firm on the ground.

So what did I think on my cold walk this morning?

Enthused and excited, filled completely with joy,

I loved life and loved me and all hoi polloi.

First thought of Lou and INFP.

She's an E not an I, but an interior E - 

Our insides match, she once said to me.

And that's why I know her and together we're free

To say whatever we like.

Crisp Christmas card scene, ground golden and glisten.

Footprints in snow, I turn round to watch them 

A pairing I think, worthy of a dia-dem,

Ephemeral standing not long in the makin'.

I am worthy of life, I think.

Lambasted Luton, laid with snow light ‘n’ lovely,

Photographic skill is much like my poetry -

My aim, it is sultry,

Result satisfactory,

But I wish it could awe and delight.

Click click of the shutter,

This view and that-er

And footprints in snow like life.

My footprints not lonely, just one more was here.

First up the hill was the true pioneer,

Leaving behind their much needed steer,

And footprints to guide the way with good cheer.

Halfway up, birds calling attention.

Chorus is rousing, but sad thoughts to mention -

Nature singing it's last as we squeeze it out of dimension.

Human marks, not just in snow, when will we learn the lesson?

And then to the top, footfall firm and slow

My footprints behind me like life, in the snow.

Hilltop had beckoned some others who greet with hello,

 And I look at the view and gasp out loud, “oh!”

The sun it is rising, rising and shining,

Bringing hope to the day and joy to my rhyming.

My very first sunrise and God’s perfect timing.

Light shines all around me, as the sun it is climbing.

I stand there a moment

Awestruck, joyful, abounding,

The love that I feel is really resounding.

I breathe the delights

Before starting descent -

It’s a slippery slope, so with careful intent.

My thoughts they continue,

Linking inner and outer

Couldn't do it without her,

I think, as my mind settles on an image of the one that stepped out before me. Because life, like a walk, needs a footprint to follow.

I can’t end this poem,

Just don’t see it going.

Thousand thoughts that I’ve missed,

Those not yet expressed,

But I need to bring it to a close.

Final thoughts as I'm leaving,

Disjointed, but feeling

The need to explain,

As I walk this terrain,

I know the rhythm's disrupted and all these lines won't make sense.

But if I don't yet express them -

If I'm quiet and suppress gems,

If I don't try a new voice

Sing loud out and rejoice,

My ideas, like my footprints, will melt away.

Footprints on walk, so sharp in the snow

Connected me to the Universe, to the poetic flow ,

And I connected to others, the you that I know.

My face in the cold, warm and happy, aglow.

Connections here too, in the Writer'sCafe.

Reviews, they are ringing,

Quite right sometimes dinging.

Generous feedback to inspire me to write.

It's not really simple, repeating  this verse,

Pretending it's satirical,

Gleefully lyrical,

The connection I feel, that adds to my mirth.

I think about this as I walk in the cold,

Reviews are like footprints in sand, life or snow

They'll swirl in my head, they'll come and they'll go,

But they lead the way too, as footprints do, with generous feedback to inspire me to think.

I tried out a new style, a jumbled poetic.

I moved from theme-based to a god damn polemic

And I mixed up my rhythms

(Yes, I know there are schisms),

But I've had some real fun doing it!

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This feels like 3 different poems. The first one-third, you seem to be gathering up your pluck, in order to write. The middle one-third, you've gotten warmed up & you spill some of your most lyrical lines -- great flow, strong imagery. The last one-third, you can't let go of the writing experience.

I admire you for being able to reveal such a plethora of uncertainties to everyone, as you work thru your poetic issues. Lots of people discuss what's hard or easy or enjoyable or torturous about their poetic journey, but you put everything out there in such a vulnerable way, more so than most people. But your vulnerability doesn't come across as weakness -- it's your strength. It's rare to have so much courage, to be so transparent, to be so earnest in your efforts to try things out in writing & to discuss this experimentation in a poem to everyone. Your spirit feels about as authentic as any writer who writes about the experience of trying to be a writer.

Frankly, I would get rid of the first third & the last third, leaving only the shining nugget that you came to, as you worked thru your insecurities & avowals. I would never show all the chattering that leads up to the smooth write, or what comes after. But I also understand that for you to try to bottle this up would not be fun & writing is mostly for ourselves, not trying to be something other than ourselves for some audience to admire.

Your ending reminds me of when my best friend was still alive & we would text for hours late into the night & it took about an hour to say "goodbye" becuz each of us kept thinking of something more to say to the other, which could NOT wait until the next day. For this reason the Aerosmith song "I don't want to miss a thing" became "our song" as we tried to break off each texting session! Reminds me of how you got near the end of this poem, but kept wanting to pile more on (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Helen]

It's an eclectic and jumbled mix up and certainly different in style as well as content as it progresses. Your influence was strong when I wrote it and I think the better parts were where a little bit of Margie came into play. But you are right, I wrote it for me and it was important for me - posting it is about not being ashamed, showing who I am, showing my struggle. That is something I have from another part of my life where "the dark past is the greatest possession [I] have - the key to life and happiness for others". Key to life and happiness for others as I share myself good and bad - amazing side effect for me is less shame, which makes more room for living which I love!

All that aside, thank you for such kindly delivered and helpful feedback. It is hard for me to see exactly where the middle bit you are talking of is, but I will return to this and see if I can turn it into a poem for others, not just me. Brevity is the theme for me this week, need to learn how to be more succinct, but also not to feel the need to say everything, to explain every single thought process ("don't want to miss a thing").

I'm sorry your best friend is no longer alive, but I am glad you had such a friend. That is how it is for me and my friend Lou, who I mention in this poem.

I wish you would stop challenging and encouraging me Margie - I do have a life to live outside of the cafe too!!!

As always and sincerely, thank you.

[barleygirl]

I can't remember if I've told you this or if you might've picked up on it from something else I wrote, but I was raped by my dad & my brother for years, often several times a week. Most of my life, my writing has been a discombobulated outpouring of all my angst & growth & brokenness, mixed in there with a bunch of very good budding material. I wrote in this bumpy disjointed way for decades before I could distill out all that other noise that creeped in, from my rocky past. Finally reaching that point in life, about the time I turned 60 (I'll be 65 this July), where I actually forget I was abused & when I do write about it, it's like writing about some character outside myself, I'm so empty of emotion or angst about it. You are right where you need to be on this continuum . . .

[Helen]

I know you don't need them, but I have no words for this and wish I did.

Thank you for sharing so very authentically about your dark past for the benefit of me and of others.

[Coyote Poetry]

I loved the complete poem. Years ago, a publishing company told me. You would be a great writer in 1500. Ancient world loved the epic writer. But this is 1996. People can read 12 lines or less only. I never stopped writing my epic poetry.
"Footprints on walk, so sharp in the snow
Connected me to the Universe, to the poetic flow ,
And I connected to others, the you that I know.
My face in the cold, warm and happy, aglow. "
My favorite lines are above dear Helen. Thank you for sharing the outstanding poetry. Good to release the words to paper. At free-will.
Coyote

[Helen]

I like those lines too, because I can feel them still! It was a wonderful morning for me. Thank you so much for reading my poem and for your comments and compliments. I found it funny the reference to the epic writer. I have an epic soul I think, it wants EVERYTHING to be known because it feels so hidden otherwise. Thank you for reading the whole thing!

[Coyote Poetry]

Good to be a epic writer. I dislike the rules of perfect writing and you are welcome dear Helene.

[Wherearemysocks]

Outstanding.Your poetry makes me wonder how much books you've read.It's amazing how words can connect all of us.

[Helen]

Thank you for reading and reviewing. I have to admit that I would certainly like to be the sort of person that reads lots of books, but I'm not. Been making up for my lack of reading here in the writerscafe though - read more this month that I did in the whole year previously!