Footprints in snow –
Those who have gone before me.
Now my footprints –
For those who come after.

Generation after generation,
Footprints in snow…
Mere footprints.

But, with time’s melting,
Even this memory erased,
Generation after generation.

So to what end…
These footprints?

All Poetry — Henry Barnard

That kind of dream —
You somehow know how to levitate.
Magically and wonderfully,
Just lift off the ground,
While peering down upon hapless mortals
Struggling to make their way.

An intoxicating sense of freedom –
In the air, no restraints…boundaries no more.
Daily cares long forgotten,
And you, an eagle, soar
A crescendo in a symphony.

Then, intensity breaks the spell.
You awaken…to lingering darkness
And feeble light from the window —
Icarus falls back to reality.

All Poetry — Henry Barnard

We all experience it — you cannot speak.
Something deep inside acts up,
And will not be denied.

You have this choking sensation
Like something stuck – burning — in the throat.

You must wait for it to pass
Before you can speak again.
An emotion so raw and primitive it paralyzes.

Sorrow, sadness, despair —
All weeping together…
A dam of emotion let loose.

It’s humanity’s response to personal tragedy
When the only possible response…
Letting go your emotions;
Letting those wild horses run free.

Welcome to humanity.

All Poetry — Henry Barnard

The sea laps upon the shore
Little waves are no more.
While time winds its wily way,
We are only made of clay.

Life?  Life a gift unique,
But over in a blink.
Our prospects, very bleak, sink,
As the waves galore
Continue on ever more.

All Poetry — Henry Barnard