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Time On Writing And Words Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About Time

These Time On Writing And Words poems are examples of On Writing And Words poems about Time. These are the best examples of Time On Writing And Words poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Verse |

Who Am I

I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend

I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies 
through speaking my thoughts into existence

I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance 
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen

I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery 
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry

I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards

I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels

I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent  of it

I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
Judge that

I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM



Details | Sonnet |

THE HOURS

                                                      Don’t count every hour in the day, 
                                                      make every hour in the day count.
                                                                                         ~Anonymous~
                                                                                                   


How heavy and quick are indifferent hours, Their tread crushes the most tender of dreams, And though time knows not its pressing power, It tramples the heart, yet hears not the screams. A dancer, sculptor or siren with song beholds the cold clock and its silent charge, Each stage, chisel and note aches to belong to minutes that mince, steps buoyant though large. These tasks of days grate and night pounds abuse, But the artist learns to dodge, buck and roll, How clever is craft! How wily the muse, For we, the moved, do not cower or loll. The sun bears down and a blue moon marches, ~ Beneath their weight, my poetry arches ~
*Written Feb 12, 2012 For Paula Swanson's "Trample" Contest


Details | Haiku |

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

Now my tendrilled soul,
Has found its pergola-- Christ--
To wind its way up....


Details | Free verse |

Once Upon a Time on a Bench

(16/03/2013)

I’ve tangled my pointer with my hair 
While looking up to gaze on the smiling sun
Over hundred times,
On a bench, 
Waiting for your presence

I’ve become boredom conqueror 
And unearthed those buried stones under 
After I’ve had enough of my android,
On a bench, 
You’re still not here

I’ve sent the sun home
And kissed the clouds goodbye
I’ve lost my spirit 
And sighed out my stupidity,
Off that bench,
You’re a disappointment


Details | Rhyme |

Only A Poet

Write me a smile with your magic word
And write it nice and wide
Write me a whisper, that's never been heard
To show what you're feeling inside

Write me a tear, as it runs down your cheek
Each time that you need to cry
Write me strength, when you're feeling weak
Or love that will make me sigh

Write me the anger, when it doesn't go your way
Or contentment, each time that it does
Write me tomorrow, instead of today
Or maybe the way that it was

Write me your heartache, with all of your pain
When your heart's been broken in two
Then write me the pieces of you that remain
For I need to feel them too

Write me the morning and evening skies
Or maybe even noon or night
Whatever emotion your lonely heart cries
Like only a poet can write


Details | Couplet |

The wreck

The last few weeks have been real hard
You see the "dealer of life" deals the cards
As the trials and blessings come and go
It's true we must reap what we sow
At times the trials are many and the blessings are few
Just let the light of your soul shine on through
Yesterday I walked to the bridge over the creek
By the time I got there I was tired and weak
As I sat on the bridge taking a break
Questioning "how much more can I take"
A speeding drunk driver lost control
I watched it unfold nice and slow
Sometimes the blessings are clear to see
They crashed into the rail right next to me
My guardian angel said soft as could be
I'll never give up on you don't give up on me
These last few weeks I have felt rather low
With a deep down emptiness up in my soul
So regardless of the pain or length of the fight
I reckon it's once again time for me to write
For my pen is the tool that I use to see
The power of the Lord working in me


Details | I do not know? |

Melancholy Madness

Sing a song of sadness
Pocket full of frowns
Melancholy madness
Brings us all down.

Rain in drips of sorrow
In colors dark in hue
No better day tomorrow
Only clouds haunting you.

Bear the blame of guilt
And wear it on your shoulder
Tear down all you've built
Soon you feel much older.

Rhyme in lines of regret
For all you've said and done
But as people always forget
Then you'll have none.


Details | Narrative |

CONJOINED DREAMS

His:

He played softly on (Les Paul Strings) (The Day That He Returned Home) from the war. (One 
More Mile) to go, then he will be (Kissing and Caressing) her. That was all he thought of on 
his long journey home. He was going to try and win over (The Iceberg Beauty) he saw so 
long ago while (Sitting on the Beach). (Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained) so (He Left Her a 
White Rose). He was hoping the (Dark Maiden) would become (Golden and Gorgeous) once 
again when (In the Meadow We Lay).

(She Entered My Dream)s forever on that day, right after we dove into the water. When (We 
Came Up For Air) (The Flow of My Heart) stopped suddenly. (Have You Ever Sat Still), so still 
breathing stops, the eyes suddenly glaze over and when the (Doves Fly), (The Raven 
Succumbs)? 

Hers:

(Her Reoccuring Dream) was to become a blond (Beach Beauty) once again for him, as  he 
was always (In Her Dreams). He would cover her with (Sunset Kisses) and the flame of life 
in her would never flicker and die. Alas, (The Mirrors Spoke) of her (In Ageing Decay) as 
she (Sat in Shame No More). Her time was up, those (Three Wishes on The Sandy Beach) 
were not enough. She needed a fourth to be young for evermore. Instead (On Blue Silk She 
Lies), this time her eyes will remain shut (When They Close For Evermore)!

* Narrative derived from one poets work here on the Soup.


Details | Verse |

Enigma's Calling

Extraordinary, I am 
Craving for unusual thoughts
Endless exploration without boundary
Understanding  the gift I shouldn't fought
 
Invisible drawings in my mind
Playing with the words in my head
My passion
The food of my soul
 
I feel so lucky
The random thoughts
A lifetime companion
A self esteem builder
A goal planner
Be my forever life saver
 
I write more
I talk less
I want to please
I chose to bore
 
What tickles me the most
Is to know what I'm for
Thinking is my love
When  my mind goes empty
That's when I hate
 
My day dreaming lust
Organizing things in my mind
Playing roles of simulation
Where images of art is my vision
And words of attitude is my heart


Details | Free verse |

Night Poem

It waits...
A prickle about to lodge
In the heart of a Mighty Light

Above the low-dipped setting sun
The Knightly Night prepares to come

To lift me like a rising fog
Up to greet the countless stars -
That twinkle at a Sun's descent.

The horizon painted with lullaby
Of colours and their somber tune
Day's bed is laid behind blue mountains
And quietly it goes to sleep.

Inside the womb of a Sleeping Day
Begins a fierce protest 
of dreaming thoughts
Now stirred awake.

Then out of the thick and cluster
And whatever dangers of flight await
Newborn wings of thought emerge
And rise and rise and rise
Captured by the winds of Night -
Arisen

To wander heights
To kiss the skies
To dance to the gentle humming
Of spirit drums -
Wings beating
A duet with the breeze.


So when day comes breaking through
Dawn is greeted by what was writ
At the festival of it's eve.

With merriment's ink: 
A Kiss; 
A dance; 
A song etched deep: 
Art carved out of sky.

Title: Night Poem


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