Published December 4, 2006
Tired Feet
Tired feet, got to rest,
Sitting still, eyes closed,
Letting memories wash over me.
Emotions, dim with time,
Skitter across an endless pond
That seems to be my mind,
And I wonder how I survive,
When my feet are so tired
And I’ve got to rest.
Scenes from half-forgotten pasts,
Some parts fuzzy, others vivid,
Times gone by and people lost.
Memories of streams and splashing,
Skates and snowmen,
Visions of people I have loved.
Gray hair, once brown,
Hands wrinkled and spotted
With age-marks, one for every year
That I have treaded, on tired feet,
Through pasts and presents,
Dreaming of futures when my feet
Are weightless and I can float
Through layers of clouds,
As if I was not flesh but feathers.
But no, my feet are tired,
And right now I have to rest.
Eyes closed, dreaming,
Whistling tunes half forgotten.
Just remembering.
My poetry hasn't been very well received, so lets hope I can change the downward spiral of my reputation with this poem.
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Hehehe, don't worry. In the end, you shouldn't write for an audience, but yourself. Though aiming to improve is always good.
I would focus more on the tired feet. My main question was, why are they tired? There are so many poems about memories that it's almost cliché to bring them in. But sore feet? That's something that is interesting, if only because I haven't seen it around very often in poetry! Focus more on the feet and less on the memories, trimming down the memory part, and it should be fine.