Time

You crawl before me,

yet, when I turn my head

you  run, you fly.

You’re gone

and I can never catch up,

never get you back.

Eternity spreads out before me,

yet my path

narrows

a little more

each

day

until one day it comes down to a

point,

a period.

And we all know

a period signifies the

end

.             

A Small Sample of My Constant Obsession with Time - NaPoWriMo #3

Where do the days go?

Is there a big bin

filling up with all of my spent days?

 

Can I dig through them

and pull out one or another

special one

to review, relive?

 

Can I pull out one

that wasn’t much used,

like a piece of paper,

and write on it

again?

So as not to be

wasteful.

 

Or do all the days

just drop away

falling out of

time?

Autumn Fruits

 

Over at dVerse Poets' Pub Laura has asked us, keeping September in mind, to write a nine-line verse, taking one of several lines from different poets so that each consecutive word becomes the start of the next line of the poem. I chose the following:

Those/ pale /flowers /might /still /have/ time/ to /fruit  from Karina Borowicz’s ‘September Tomatoes’ 

 

Those autumn evenings grow crisp at the edges.

Pale moonlight spills on fields as that first star

flowers in the darkening sky.

Might this inexorable transition towards winter

still surprise us, still catch in our throats?

Have we lost our awe of beauty, death,

time slipping into past?

Today we should enjoy the final

fruit, sweetened by September’s breeze.

Over Time

I make these plans

and sometimes they work out

but sometimes…

well, it would be interesting

to eavesdrop on my self

five years ago, or fifteen, or fifty

to hear the things

I thought were

so important

then turn to

my worries of today

This is a quadrille, for dVerse Poets' Pub where Kim has asked us for 44 words, exactly, that include some form of "eavesdropping."