Category Archives: Time

Ephemera

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Ephemera

I saw the shadow of a bird
vanished too quickly to be heard.
Yet with my curtain as a scrim,
for moments I caught glimpse of him.

Strangers at windows on a train
pass by so quickly, then gone again.
They heal no wounds and cause no pain.
Are merely there. No loss or gain.

All of life’s pleasures come and go
for nature has arranged it so.
We’re caught up in its ebb and flow.
We treasure life, then let it go.

 

The prompt word today was Treasure.

Time Is Generous in its Offerings, but Has its Limits.

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Petitioning Time

The day first blooms, then flowers and fades away to night;
and though I’d choose to slow its progress if I might,
no part of nature sympathizes with my plight.
It is a futile undertaking trying to seize light.

Time feeds upon us all—the ultimate parasite.
There is no way to sate her appetite.
No clever words can save us from her cruel bite,
for she feeds with equal favor on dull and erudite.

Though we might flail and struggle, it does no good to fight.
If we try to outpace her, it is a futile flight.
All our human efforts to stay her just incite.
Time always is the winner, feeding on our fright.

Though we might choose to hoard our time—to hold it close and tight,
or hope that pills and potions might hide us from her sight,
no rituals or magic words that we might recite
can keep our fading colors perpetually bright.

No matter what initiatives we choose to expedite—
no matter what our efforts are to reignite
the light so quickly fading from our sight—
we cannot defeat time through acts of plebiscite.

The prompt word today is “Generous.”

Phases

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Phases of history, cycles of moon––
as we grow older, the thought is jejune
that everything passes too soon, oh too soon.
The days seem to eat up our time with a spoon.

When I was younger, the days went so slow,
with nothing to do and nowhere to go,
and every day, every day––all were the same.
I needed adventure, but it rarely came.

Animals’ phases allow them to dare
to turn into something more special and rare.
Tadpoles swim landwards, developing legs.
Pupae to butterflies, chickens from eggs.

Rain falls and water runs west to the sea.
We try to go with it, my sister and me.
With leaves for our sails and vine pods for our ships,
what we wish for remains behind eyelids and lips.

The gutters are swollen and culverts are full.
We harness our boats, and we push and we pull.
But still they escape––rush away on their own.
I envy their future–unfettered, unknown.

In faraway places, I thought I’d be free
to discover new parts I was fated to be;
so I went after life like a kid at a fair,
from her carousel horse, reaching out through the air.

I could not resist the chance of surprise––
to  grab the brass ring and capture the prize.
And yes, I did travel and how I did roam.
Life got faster the farther I wandered from home.

Now I’ve been through the phases from child to wife.
I’ve traveled and struggled and had a free life.
I’ve been on large vessels for months at a time,
and on most of my travels, I’ve had a good time.

If I’d known that the slow times were not going to last,
I would not have hoped for my time to go fast.
For now when the ending comes faster and faster,
The pace of my life is just courting disaster.

The sea seems to beckon, the boats are all tethered.
But my new dreams are tamer, my old dreams well-weathered.
Now I can go anywhere, do many things,
I wish for more time just to fold up my wings.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/phase/

Triple Tricky

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Triple Tricky

Who knows what each new day will bring?
Three dogs wiggling outside my door–
my feeding them, them wanting more.

The world reaches out for me and more.
Those worlds imagination  brings
come whining louder at my door.

Now and always at time’s door
I offer words and ask for more
than what, I know, the years will bring.

Agape once more, that final door brings me at last to face my fears.
I bring myself to cross its sill, still hoping there will be some more.

The WordPress prompt is “Tricky” and and NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a tritina–a poetic form that involves three three-line stanzas and a final concluding line. Three “end words” are used to conclude the lines of each stanza, in a set pattern of ABC, CAB, BCA, and all three end words appear together in the final line. I cheated and used two concluding lines instead of one. This poem meets both prompts. Tricky.
http://www.napowrimo.net/day-seven-3/
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/tricky/

Old Farts at the Beach

Old Farts at the Beach

How do we choose what to hold on to as life slips away faster––
pulled by a stronger tide?
We want to fall through days with no plans,
like teenagers in a small town,
wandering around to find adventure where they can––
last minute expeditions
to small places
that prick delight.

From beaches piled so high with coral that it shreds our shoes,
we collect shells and driftwood shards and sea skate egg casings––
treasures with no larger price tags than precious time––
hints of another world we have earlier viewed like voyeurs from above,
our goggles misting over as that world darts by
too quickly to catch by hand or camera lens or
anything but memory.

None of us desire to waste time with anything else but wasting time.
“We are in this world to fart around,” Kurt Vonnegut once said,
and we want to have tattoos of it so we won’t forget––
all too aware that soon some of us will.

(Click on first photo to enlarge all photos, then on arrow to view all. When you have viewed all of the photos, click on X on the upper left side of thepage to come back to this page.)

 

Update: Want to see where we went for lunch? It’s called Restaurante La Mosca, aka The Fly Cafe. You can see photos HERE.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/fleeting/

Flow Chart

Flow Chart

Ebb and flow, ebb and flow––
at first our lives seem very slow.
Once the Christmas tree came down,
vacuum cleaners all over town
removed needles curled and brown,
and echoed each child’s yearly whine
as they picked up remains of pine.
Why did Christmas have to go?

Then that slow tick of passing time
through other holidays sublime:
Valentine’s and Easter and
Mayday with its sleight-of-hand
as a basket-wielding band
(before they quickly pushed the bell,
turned on their heels and ran like Hell)
moved silently as any mime.

July 4th and Halloween
moved across the year’s broad screen
as days both secular and holy
that children loved came on so slowly.
Holidays just seemed to creep
trudging up a year so steep
impatient children had to weep
impatiently and make a scene.

Thanksgiving filled with birds to stuff
should have pleased them all enough,
but thoughts of Christmas swirled instead
through each greedy little head.
Christmas music, gifts and trees
pervade the brisk Thanksgiving breeze
bringing children to their knees.
Waiting for Christmas is so tough!!!

But years pass quicker as we get older.
From fresh to hot to crisp to colder.
Time that used to flow so thickly
suddenly moves by so quickly
that that dread April holiday
wherein we pay and pay and pay
does not seem far enough away
as we search for our taxes folder!!!

(Click on first photo and then on arrows to enlarge and move through gallery.)

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/flow/