# June Challenge: "Footsteps"



## Chesters Daughter (Jun 1, 2017)

The prompt for this month's challenge, as chosen by jenthepen is: *Footsteps*

You are free to interpret the prompt in any way you wish, though of course, site rules apply. If you are unsure of the challenge rules please read the 'stickies' at the top of the board. *Please note that all entries* *are eligible to receive critique in the voting thread.* 

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*
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This challenge will close on the 15th of June at 7pm EST. **
*


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## Chesters Daughter (Jun 4, 2017)

*Here She Comes!*

Your great Mater made 
Memorial Day thrilling
when a slice of her knife
revealed pink cake filling.

This Thanksgiving will serve you 
up in the flesh,
both you and the turkey
dressed in your best.

This Christmas will find you 
swaddled and coddled,
but come the next,
we'll watch you toddle

eyes and lenses entranced
as you conquer erect
with each tentative step
you strive to perfect.

Sweet wee Haylee Rose
best get ready to pose
both before and after
you master those toes

your expectant audience awaits.

May your premiere footfalls
and all that follow
ever be favored by fate.


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## -xXx- (Jun 5, 2017)

here


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## Darren White (Jun 6, 2017)

and here


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## Darkkin (Jun 6, 2017)

*First Steps of a Glass Girl*

First Steps of a Glass Girl


_Nobody_, the litany repeating in the rain.
The drizzle gathering on her worn cloak,
such was this nobody, seated there,
beneath that Alder, dear friend of the oak.

She held out a hand, inky as the clouds,
slim fingers traced, first the left, then right.
She felt the cracks, these unknown fissures,
something invisible in the fractured light.

She had no memory of these hands,
no knowledge of this lonely place.
With thin, icy, foreign fingers she reached,
traced, learning this stranger's face.

Two eyes, their colour swallowed by the dark,
one nose, small, not of the classic line.
A chin, delicate, but with a mulish tilt.
Curls, billowed as the wind began to whine.

Her feet were bare, five toes each, counted.
Arms, legs, these too, pieced and dark.
She had no colour, no hues, no shadings.
_Who are you?_  The question, bitter and stark.

A gauzy froth of mist and sea foam,
liquid to her touch, made up her dress,
revealing her knees, knobbly and chipped.
Slowly, to the sand, her toes, she dared press.

Over the stones and sand, the waves murmured,
above their call a slight clinking could be heard.
It was the song of a fish float, washed upon the shore.
Glass, fragile and light as the bones of a frigate bird.

The hood of her cloak slid back, the sky wept—
Each drop, crystalline, wove a song of pain,
voices, refrains drawn for from her very skin.
_Nobody_, a ghostly litany played by the rain.

And in a drunken twirl it came,  a castaway lost,
a milkweed seed, tossed.  A wish made in reply,
to the lonely song of glass and sand.  A whisper.
_Take hold and stand.  You have legs. You must try! _

Suspended by the flight of a milkweed seed,
monkey toes long, lean burned with savage need,
Clinked, flexed—And finally, truly gripped.
She had known the steps once, before she slipped.

Pressing deep, digging in, glass giving with the glue,
this Nobody took a step, teetering—First one, now two,
she wobbled, bobbled right, then left, nearly fell.
Squid ink and swan song, Nobody’s story to tell.


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## Nellie (Jun 7, 2017)

*Traces
*As we innocently stroll
through life's winding pathways,
sandy beaches, glistening snow,
our everlasting protoge's
silent footsteps are always heard.


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## ArrowInTheBowOfTheLord (Jun 9, 2017)

*Footprints in the Snow*

There was something about awakeness, about being awake in a forest late at night—
||||||||||||||||a very snowy forest, 
||||||||||||||||absolutely silent, and 
absolutely freezing. 

All pine trees, spare and dark. Starless, 

with only a moon-sliver—
||||||||so distant, so cold, so pale, the face of a ghost 
||||||||||||||||opening its eyes 

long after death, 

opening white lips to breathe in frosty air, 
opening closed hands to beg for mercy, 

and then the empty shotgun shells fall, fall silently 

into the snow. Zero degrees—

there was something about awakeness, about waking up to ask once more, 
[FONT=&Verdana]|||||||||
[/FONT]||||||||||about a footprintless ground 
where so many spirits walk. 
[FONT=&Verdana]
[/FONT]


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## jenthepen (Jun 10, 2017)

*Graven Image*


he tried to walk in bigger footsteps
 as though _himself _was not enough
 strange to think role models are chosen
 frozen in minds as a pale reflection
 mirrored in moulded lives.

 he never quite got it but thought he did
 measured his life by memories
 sad to think that footsteps he followed
 required suppression of creative expression
 denial of insights and love

 he was more than he ever knew


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## Phil Istine (Jun 13, 2017)

*Reclaimed*


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## sas (Jun 13, 2017)

*DOA: dead over Air (Jordan shoes)*


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## PiP (Jun 13, 2017)

Fitbit Blues


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## ned (Jun 15, 2017)

*Footfall

the clank of hobnailed steels
rumbling rollerskate wheels
the flipperty flop of you know what
staccato stiletto heels

clog dancing from you know where
Fred Astaire, gliding on air 
the straight-laced foot in the military boot
goose-stepping on the square

naked footprints upon the shore
bare slaps on the bathroom floor
the silent pad of the stalking cat
the scratch of a rat at the door

then run where the maples grow
kicking up leaves as you go
the joy of sploshes in brand new galoshes
the squeaky crunch on virgin snow

echoing steps after dark
whispers made on a gravelly path
and on the dusty sea of tranquility
the man on the moon leaves his mark





*


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## Chesters Daughter (Jun 15, 2017)

This challenge is now closed.


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