Plus I've been meaning to put some more poetry on here for a while. Once again, I would like to make a disclaimer stating the fact that I wrote this poem in freshman year, though I do quite like the concept. So, if you like, constructive criticism away! No further comment.
footprints
a man crosses the street
leaving behind dark footprints,
a contrast to the white snow.
soon he has vanished from sight, but his footprints remain.
i think of the footprints i leave behind,
by simply existing.
eventually i know i will be gone,
but will my footprints remain?
breathing in the crisp air i watch.
before my very eyes the man’s footprints disappear.
the only trace of his journey down the street,
gone.
i look behind me at the snow and once more
think of the footprints i have left, not only here, but throughout my life.
i wonder:
when i am gone will my footprints also be concealed?
snow covers things.
it buries the world under a clean white blanket,
leaving no trace of what was once there.
i gaze down from my rooftop, my forbidden perch.
suddenly i realize:
snow covers houses,
roads, and yes,
even footprints. but...
not love.
not laughter.
not memories.
these are the footprints i want to leave behind.
though snow and time
will cover me when i am gone
i finally understand:
i will live on in my footprints.
in the footprints i make when i laugh with my friends
or when i cook for my family.
when i reach out a helping hand,
or when i allow someone else to reach out to me.
the wind sends shivers up my spine
as the snow dances around me.
wonder fills my soul, and i notice tears slipping down my cheeks,
freezing in the bitter cold.
i will live on in smiles
in tears
in laughter
in love.
my footprints will not be hidden or forgotten,
they will be heard of,
and felt.
and remembered...
i will live on in my footprints.
for these footprints are too powerful to be
covered by snow-
or even time.
Okay, so I lied when I said no further comments.
One of the things I love about this poem is the fact that this series of thoughts really came to me just like I wrote it. I was sitting on my roof on a snowy night, which is something I don't get to see very often in my part of the world, and this is where my mind went when I saw a man walk by and then, looking back a few minutes later, I noticed his footprints were covered. We had a snow day the next day and this whole epiphany thing was wonderfully timed because I was supposed to write a poem for my English/Literature class.
Another thing I'll comment on, while I'm at it, is how much I like the shapes of some of the stanzas in this piece. Not all of them, but some of them, namely the seventh and eleventh, just look very appealing to me. I'm not trying to toot my own vuvuzela, but I think it's pretty, for lack of a better term.
Before you comment on it, I know this poem is way too long. Sorry. One other fun fact about this poem was how I wrote it, and we were supposed to (in class) go through our poems and find what kinds of literary devices we used. I mentioned that I didn't find many (we were writing this on a typed copy of our poem). My teacher wrote me back (on the poem) a note saying that I used synecdoche, which, as a 14 year old, was something that flew right over my head. I put away the commented on poem with the rest of my papers. Then in junior year, I had an amazing British Lit teacher, and in preparation for the AP English Language exam, we went over literary devices, and one of the ones she really harped on was, no surprise, synecdoche. Summer came and I was looking through my old papers for some particular one, it might have even been this poem. I read my teacher's note and was like "OH MY GOSH. I WAS A PSYCHIC IN FRESHMAN YEAR."
Wow this has been a disgustingly long post. Thanks for sticking with me, hope it wasn't too painful.
Cheers,
-T.A.D.
(I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing that I'm getting so comfortable blogging that this is probably the fifth post in a row that I've almost signed my real name on)
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