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Age Time Poems | Age Poems About Time

These Age Time poems are examples of Age poems about Time. These are the best examples of Age Time poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Couplet | |

It's only time

For the lark she sings in her morning song,
That brightens up my day.
The pitter patter of tiny drops,
Clouds fill the sky with grey.

The dampened ground, that familiar smell,
Now quenched refreshed anew.
Brings forth forgotten memories,
Of a time that I once new.

Like grains of sand they ebb and flow,
Those minutes of the day.
In lines of endless moments,
That brought forth that child at play.

For is this just like déjà vu
For some time I’ve been alone.
Now standing here now humble,
To all these things I’ve known.

With gentle face a youthful pose,
As we danced the night away,
A tender touch a knowing gaze,
No need for words to say.

For what is love but a feeling?
As hearts melt into one.
With the blessings of good fortune,
 Now Care free and full of fun.

For they say that hopes eternal,
And all things come to he who waits.
Or is that for other people,
For nothing seems that straight.

Given in reflected thought,
To those oh so special years.
Brought back in just a heart beat,
I wipe away the tears.

© N windle


Details | Free verse | |

The Shadow of Me

It was a long time ago, in another age
Where the shifting of the wind
Knew where I began
A place so far away, 
Somewhere distant, in childhood country
Before the fog had set in,
Before time lost all trace of me

Where have they gone?
Those merry dancers with whom I played?
When we were queens of the carnival, kings of the parade?
Before being dethroned to mid-life corners
Hearing the music, without playing the drums
They tell me to take this age with grace
Yet everywhere I turn, is young

I'm still the same, I have not changed
I lived a time where love was wild and thoughts were too
With high regard, when eyes were glued
Now inside I'm torn in two...the old and the new
Trapped between this nowhere place
Myself and someone else
Until each barrier becomes a bridge...
Have I been shaped too square by passing years, to fit in circle's place?

My memory recalls those beautiful tomorrows
Now long buried in yesterday's ground
There are other ways to measure time
Besides growing older and graying hair
Recorded music fills the room
Left playing from an earlier time
When October skies showed fading traces
Of empty days and sad old faces
The "others" of whom I had no fear

Now those shadowed remnants from my past
Are stalking at my heels
Will somebody care to ask?   Will anyone need my mind?
Will they patronize, or just be kind?
Care enough, make me useful, give me value, call me beautiful?....
Not yet the age I'll someday be
Still, I feel the sting of losing me
How I ache for all those love songs
How I ache for someone needing, someone pleading...
For advice....for my worth, for an answer, will they want me?
How it haunts me.....Will they see me?
Touching me....reminding me of who I am................not just who I was...



Details | Free verse | |

over and over agin

sometimes i talk to myself, 
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all. 
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
FAT
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister, 
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
repeating,
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some unique
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it. 
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room, 
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy, 
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
no
is daddy raping her?
no
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
pass...
did anyone molest her? 
pass....
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
more... 
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse. 
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
hated herself
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses 
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
FAT!!!!!!
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
FAT!
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat, 
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why? 
because daddy yelled 
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
smoking weed
doing nothing,
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
 her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
her mom,
her sister,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
 and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
and why? 
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...


Details | Rhyme | |

Out of the Sun

              Stayed 
             in the sun 
              to long
               today
 The skin became the bark of a tree
 the soul turning to brittle scars
 for uncaring worlds to see.
             my face
            is a pile of 
           old owl bones
sewn into banks of midnight creeks...
even the plump, over ripened ones 
no longer look at me...
but if their car was desert flat,
their oil grim reaper black
they'd paint a wormy, water colored  smile...
slide it through my barbed wired heart
so long as I could spin the jack...
so I spin it until their potholes turn to satin-
               Stayed 
              in the sun
               to long
                today
the mind has smoothed over 
like pebbles in Saturn rings..
a forgotten spice in the conversation of life
an hour later the word snuggles up to me
               laughingly.

Tomorrow or forever( which ever comes first),
I'll stay wrapped inside
till my skin turns back to ivory
to an easter egg yesterday 
to a time of bouncing ball and spinning jack,
when the mind was a great silky nest...
the face a flowered meadow place 
where watercolors swirled all day, 
the heartworms kept at bay.

I'll stay hidden within the briar, 
till the jewels of memories sooth 
every scar - every stripe,
the molten knots of cruelty,
till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
until then only my curtains breathe...
       ...stayed in the sun 
              to long
                today





Details | Free verse | |

Sometimes

Sometimes I am happy, sometimes I am sad.
Sometime I sing, sometimes I stammer

Sometimes I dance on the music of my soul, Sometimes I dance on the fingers of 
one single person
Sometimes I expect so much from others; sometime I myself can’t meet my own 
expectations.

Sometime I make fun of others and feel bad later, sometimes life makes fun of me 
and I smile
Sometime I win and sometimes I lose, sometimes I don’t even understand whether I 
won or lost.
 
Sometimes I laugh as if whole world is with me,
Sometimes I cry as if I am alone wandering in a strange land

Sometimes I give up so easily
Sometimes I work so hard that no one can stop me to achieve what I want

Sometimes I am dynamic person, who wants to change the world,
And sometimes I am a kid who expects anyone to embrace him tightly.

Sometimes I feel happy about the achievement of my enemy
Sometime I feel dejected with my own success.

Sometimes I help others and show them the right path
Sometimes I feel totally helpless and don’t know where to go

Sometimes I ask god to please give my past back
Sometimes I pray to show me the way forward


Life is composed of SOMETIMES and I just flow with that.
U admit or not but you are also sailing on the same boat.
So join me and enjoy it EVERYTIME as SOMETIMES life is very short!


Details | Rhyme | |

Timeless Love

They met at first around sixteen,while they were in their teens.
A young man tall and handsome, a girl with many dreams.
Years later they did meet again this time he was smitten.
It took some time to hook this girl, eventually their history written.

He had a plan to marry her and move her from her home.
She'd have to leave her roots, the only thing she'd known.
Leave her home and family was what she had to do,
The love they shared was eternal even though it 'twas brand new.

This love they shared was a gift,their faith was also strong
They both loved many similar things like fishing, books and song.
Seven children blessed their lives, they started their own tree
So strong this love they shared, became one large family. 

Both worked hard to raise them, devoted to each one,
They shared their love equally to each daughter and each son.
Education and faith were important, practiced with daily prayer
They fed and clothed this family with love and tremendous care

Each child was very different and different paths they took.
Educators, artists, builders, Lawyers and even cooks.
Each child found their partners, some added children to each branch.
All love music, all loved to read, a few even like to dance.

Their children had more children and the two were greatly blessed,
With lovely grandchildren with many traits that both these two possessed
What remained from the love they shared twas passed down through the line
A love this strong must be shared and it surpassed all time

Four generations have now developed from these two whose love began
So many years before when both had shared a plan.
Each twig shares a piece and resembles one or the other
For this love story that's been described was about a Father and Mother

I'd love to say they share a life together here today
But God had different plans in mind, for one he took away
The void he left was devastating to everyone you see
Hardest on the one for which he shared atop the tree

The plan these two created at the time they were entwined
Continues on by one so strong , who giveth all of her time
To the tree these two created which grows branches to this day
The love created by these two shall never go


Details | Blank verse | |

Old Woman With A Faded Pink Shawl

There is no moon tonight. Wine fills me with melancholy. Movement of boats on the Seine sooth me like choral music. Illuminated torches excite nostalgia. The sound of an Aurignacian flute can be heard down the boulevard, or maybe only the glint of a memory. Worn feet ache. Tired lines tell the story of a life of curiosity in a weary smile. An old woman knits. She wears a faded pink shawl to cover her years. Flour from the morning’s baking lightly coats her wooden shoes.


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Details | Free verse | |

Photograph

A piece of the past
A moment frozen in time
Another blessing has perished
Another mountain to climb

How lucky are we
We can touch with our skin
A love that is lost
That has come to an end

A ticket to our former selves
A free tour through history
Answer to our question
A vision for our ministry 

Nothing more superior
Not a jewel that could surpass
Proof of times gone by
Another moment couldn't last


Details | Free verse | |

Moments In Time

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark

The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been 
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy

You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark. 


Details | Verse | |

Essence Better with time

Ripened grapes turned to wine.
Brandy’s wine, burned in time.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.13.2014
Nette Onclaud’s Contest:
In its Essence 


Details | Lyric | |

Rhyme XOX

I just want my summertime
To be at a stand still.
Sometimes, when women cross my mind,
I'm not sure just what to feel.

I'd like to call her friend,
And I want us to mean something.
I can find several, yet in the end,
It seems like all I have is nothing.

So where is the evidence
That says I should move forward?
Show me a sign that's heaven sent;
A point I should move toward.



©2013 Honestly JT


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

indestined

so many times beneath the stars
our lives are lived for fate and scars
infancy seems to abound
from everywhere it screams its sound
too loud to hear the voices true
without a sound, it comes to you
it strikes with force, a fist, a roar!
so strong a warmth you can't ignore
the vision marred by human sense
for now the journey must commence
the trials begin with fervor rise
a gaze glares straight within the eyes
so hard to suffer ends defeat
victories are ever sweet
the sky preludes the next advance
all surety, no happenstance
a place of firm and solid lore
where the light and night I wore
as symbols of forever more
no longer will I toil and chore

-Sam Robinson

Poem genesis from:
Stardust Road
by Poet Destroyer A


Details | Rhyme | |

THE AGING PROCESS

Many years ago, when we were all young,
We really thought life, would be so much fun.
While playing dress-up, trying on mom’s stuff,
Putting on make-up, we found to be tough.

Then came our schooling, and boy things would change,
“Those aren’t our parents”, when they acted strange.
Sometimes they were hip, but old-fashioned too,
That’s something I swore, I would never do.

Wishing you were older, adults had it made,
They would do nothing, yet still would be paid.
That is how little, we all had known,
We surely found out, once we were grown.

Loving the twenties, we’d go out with friends,
When we went shopping, we followed the trends.
Doing what we wanted, and staying out late,
It didn’t matter, what time we all ate.

Then came the thirties, and most of us wed,
Watch what you wish for, my parents had said.
We had to work hard, many bills to pay,
I guess they were right, what more can I say?

Raising your children, was hardest of all,
Needing some advice, your parent’s you’d call.
It seemed so easy, they needed no rest,
So now it’s your turn, you learned from the best.

The forties arrived, that was a shocker,
We’d spend lots of time, just at the doctor.
Back aches and headaches, so tired you’d be,
Trying not to cough, or else you would pee.

The fifties would come, and your grandkids too,
Where were your glasses? You hadn’t a clue.
You searched here and there, and under the bed,
“Hey grandma” they laughed, “They’re right on your head”.

Here come the sixties, now let’s have some fun,
You are retired; your work is all done.
To dinner with friends, you dressed and you wait,
They never show up, you have the wrong date.

Now the seventies, with friends playing games,
If only you could, remember their names.
You try hard to hide, those under-eye bags,
Gravity happens, and everything sags.

Enjoy every day, and have a good laugh,
All the steps you took, led down a new path.
Live life as it comes, each year a new page,
One thing is for sure, everyone will age.


Details | Rhyme | |

Memories on Branches

How did a cherry kiss? Bitter flower petals with sweet pistils.
So laden they act as halos while we breathe the love
in a pink hollow, silence sounding like taste, acting like epistle
to hold this moment in a silvery image, like moon, or  dove
low, low, a bowl formed while sunshine flickers above.

Chains of yellow petals hang over our deck, the leaves hands--
offer welcome resting branch, our sheltered home.
Seeds follow close, fragile like beans, hard case to feed the land
crawl before God, they say, be grateful as we weed and stir loam.
Together seeds and flowers and hands make a life a poem.

Awaiting the sumac, the flame at summer's ending is fruitless
we've passed the feathering, the pimping of red underneath bristle
the deer horn softness crawling out in oddest places in a mess
lining the sand pond, above the purpled iris, the pestle
of stone and sun, no rain to bring down sumac's fiery trestle.

Vulturous crows squawk and fight the ring-billed sea gulls
waiting, one in the bared hollow hands of the cottonwood
the other fat-bellied and waddling after rain finally dulls
we're under hoodies,  under shivers, our neighborhood
waits the pinking and mossing, will it unfurl new wood?


Details | Rhyme | |

Oh The Tales That He Could Tell

Along a pier, on a bench,
An old man sits all day.
Passers by not lending time,
To what he has to say.
They'll never know the loves he had,
Or ocean blues he sailed.
If they had just a moment,
Oh the tales that he could tell.

A gent with fishing rod in tow,
The "big one" but a dream.
The old man pleads with aching hands,
Would you come sit with me?
A flashing glance, a fleeting wave,
No time for you old man.
Then you'll not know my secrets,
How sure giant ones to land.
Not sailfish fought for hours on end,
Bursting through the sky.
Nor great whites conquered, whales harpooned,
Nor where the mermaids hide.

A lass sashaying, book in hand,
Of romance she does read.
His crooked finger motions her,
Would you come listen please?
With rolling eyes, a turned up nose,
His answer once again.
Then you'll miss the most daring ventures,
Ever known to man.
Expanding near a century,
Ore exotic lands and seas.
My passions, loves and tragedies,
Would bring Shakespeare to his knees.

So when you see an old man,
Sitting there alone.
Most all desires that you have dreamed,
He has lived and known.
He can fill you with adventures,
A knew world to you unveil.
If you'll just take a moment,
Oh the tales that he could tell.


Details | Rhyme | |

Ninety Years

You see him at the store sometimes
He doesn’t walk too fast
His stride has slowed throughout the years
He slowly moves on past

The hair upon his head is white
If there’s any there at all
He may be stooped or bent a bit 
A cane so he won’t fall

He smiles but you don’t know his name
He waves a weathered hand
You might smile back and say hello
There goes a nice old man

What you don’t see beyond his face
His life of ninety years
The wife he met the kids he’s raised
The joys and work and tears

The letters won for high schools sports
The girls he used to date
The time his father grounded him
For coming home too late

The war he fought for freedom’s sake
Tales too hard to speak
The friends he lost the wounds he bore
The tears upon his cheeks

The job he worked for forty years
That kept his family fed
The home he built with his two hands
The church group that he led

Time and youth have slipped away 
His mind is not as clear
His friends have mostly left this earth
He’s lost his wife so dear.

When next you see an aged gent
Who passes through your day
There’s more to him than leathered skin
There’s much that he could say


He doesn’t want your sympathy
Nor pity could he stand
Don’t treat him like a feeble child
Approach him as a man.

He still remembers all he’s done
He hasn’t lost his pride
Respect his years for you’ll be there
And know his heart inside 


Details | Free verse | |

Delphinus Nights

I have flown on wings of dreams, but I never could land well
I've never been to the end of a rainbow and I've never talked to an angel
I could never reach the fleeing horizons and I could never catch the wind
I have never caressed a sliver of moonlight until it touched your skin
When I first saw the beauty of your silhouette standing before the sun
I was the pilot of a new dream landing in your love
Then my tears reflected colors of a rainbow and I could talk to God
I could finally reach the horizons as you woke up in my arms
And I dont care where the winds blow as long as I'm with you
We could float into forever where Delphinus stars may bloom
Where time is never the difference between nights and days
We could cast our shadows from moonlight as we let our hands play
Plucking beautiful flowers from heaven until the end of times 
Planting new celestial gardens beyond our endless skies


Details | Rhyme | |

Chronos

Dribble down our chins
Flee now our present sorrows 
Scribble down our  sins
We may resent our tomorrows 

Wish the alarm would snooze itself
Yet wish we were counting ewes
Wish our charm would excuse wealth
Net fish with thieving crews

Spend us sweat, spend us time
Cheek by jowl, nose to the grind
Make us debt, make us dime
Shriek and howl, clock rewind!

So we have lost
All of yesterday's joys
At our great cost
Chronos makes us his toy


Details | Dramatic Verse | |

SO blind

   All this time I have always had my doubts,
Not the person led to believe is what I found out.
   To be deceived and lied to for oh so long,
Down deep I knew there was something wrong.
   Head over heels I had fallen in love ,
Always thought you were sent from above.
   How the knife is twisted into my side ,
So much pain I can do nothing but cry.
   These memories of what I thought was real,
I'm confused and I don't how how to feel.
    Is this really possible that I did not know,
Through all this time it never showed.
    Such an evil thing to do to a man ,
Especially the lies which he could not stand.
    How cruel and cold your heart must be ,
To carry on as you did never letting me see.
     Hard to accept all those moments  so dear ,
Realizing they are now my greatest fears .
     What was to be Joy and Happiness,
Replaced by the feelings of a loneliness.
   Never did I imagine this happening to me ,
Thinking that you and I were meant to be .
   It's a very hard thing for a man to accept ,
When he finds out that he's been tricked.
    Was it the money or the control you had ,
Maybe because you are really just that bad.
    Some day soon for this you will have to pay ,
For the sins against me and your evil ways.
    Goodbye to you  who ever you are ,
For in this heart you have left brutally scarred.
Tac.


Details | Senryu | |

Playground

Kids go down
The slide…they head toward the swings
TIME TO SCREAM!

Free time ends
Their parents want to go home
Frowns exchange 


Details | Free verse | |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’


Details | Free verse | |

Bladder Problems in Class

Numbers on 
White board…names written hori-
zontally

Students ask
To go pee…right when class starts – 
THAT’S just wrong…

Bathroom line
Of students who have bladder
Problems – WOW!

People are
Not using lunchtime to do 
Their business 

No one knows
When to do their duties – SER-
IOUSLY?


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Someday special

One day
The sky fades
I'll be free
The good day
Is someday


Details | Verse | |

My Words

Sometimes my poetry is just a case of words, 
and not necessarily my reality;                                     
and that’s what is so beautiful about writing

You can be who you want to be on any level 
and tell secrets about fantasies that may never be;  
or take trips to other dimensions on mental journeys,                                                                        or places that some don’t even think exist

They mimic thoughts that manifest themselves as poetry 
and rest on pages patiently waiting to adhere
My words are a reflection of my heart 
and they reveal the truth behind my mask of fear
they deliver reality doses  whether they are just cases, 
or me in the absolute right here

My words exude positive intentions; 
my imperfections apparent but I accepted rejections 
and reversed dejection  
and decided to bare all my fantasies, my flaws my very soul 
and temptations

Uncertain how voiced verses appeal to outside sources but internally they set me free
They provide a medium of light and creativity
A chance to apply knowledge and a time for reflecting on and making changes in my frequency
My words are attached to my soul and its overwhelming ability to just be
They reflect what I was before         
the choices I’ve made and the reasons that this life is perfect 
according to divine order

They represent the voices of my ancestors from the beginning of time 
because up until now, 
the ending wasn’t within reach so I make sure that I
carefully choose the format and the right place and time 
to deliver the message that may be blatant or hidden inside – 
of the abstract placements of verbs
giving praise to the source of power that calmly submits to the voice 
connected to my words
I am the originator of my own words
I hope that you are inspired, or simply entertained
by the process by which I've placed my words


Details | Prose | |

Eventually

Today is earlier than usual. 
It's not like any other days,
it's becoming a ritual.
Tasks at hand were once confusing; 
like riding the waves slowly, you're cautious to not make mistakes,
yet, you were falling. 

Eventually the ride gets easy.
Even when the water is raging,
you continue believing--
moving is breezy.
Relax your mind and your body will follow.
Allow your soul to take over,
release all the sorrow--
soak in all the positivity,
spirits, swallow. 

When things get crazy,
your vision gets hazy.
Just close your eyes, imagine a world where there are skies--
of no lies.
Where the ground is stable;
not shaken by any label.
Now open your eyes;
Do you see a world of disguise?
Capture that vision, now you realize.
The politics, views, the price of arguing--
the war, hunger, win a prize of suffering. 

Today is still early.
It's never too late.
When are you going to make a change?
Start by breathing, speaking--
let your message reverberate. 

You're getting used to the ride.
You're moving steadily--cruising. 
Skipping your steps, you don't mind bruising. 
Your journey extends through space--traversing. 

Eventually the ride gets easy.
Even when the water is raging,
you continue believing--
moving is breezy.
Relax your mind and your body will follow.
Allow your soul to take over,
release all the sorrow--
soak in all the positivity,
spirits, swallow.


Details | Free verse | |

Hey, handsome...

My heart is empty, Jeffrey.
I’m standing here transfixed 
within the threshold 
of a vacant bedroom.
The air is still
but the delicate scent 
of your passing soul 
invades my nostrils. 
The aroma travels deep 
inside the tunnels 
of my abdominal cavity -
lingering like... 
a dew-anointed meadow 
sleeping ‘neath 
a fuchsia sunrise.

Your mattress is scrubbed, 
stripped and sunlit – 
except for two eiderdown pillows.
I envision a perfect outline -
your fragile face
softly carved within 
the creases of these satin cases.
I visually inhale the profile 
of your splendor; 
a modern day Shroud of Turin 
resurrected and resplendent 
through trickled specks 
of semi-dried sweat.

“No more IV’s”…“right…”
“No more bedpans”…“exactly…”
“No more night sweats”…“yes, handsome…”
“Now give me a big hug, Jeffrey…Jeffrey…”

My hands tremble as I 
reach from one photograph to the next.
The images I want to barter 
with Faustus and friends - 
ensuring me a pact 
whereas I can live and breathe 
inside these time honored pixels -
content in lonely frames
hanging upon clinical walls 
in a half-emptied bedroom.

I grabbed a beaded satin pillow
to cushion the fall as
I slowly hyperventilated.
I breathe once more, Jeffrey,
but I’ll gag twice again,
as I remember our newly spoken language -
a private dialect we created last month
reminiscent of the movie 
“The Lost Language of Cranes.”
Those three long weeks before
you suddenly became incoherent 
and inaudible 
and immobilized. 
Remember how we improvised?
Remember, handsome:

(shaking and arms crossed) “OK…you’re cold – I’ll get you a blanket!"
(pointing to your mouth)  “You’re thirsty…water or juice?"
(pointing to your mouth and shaking) “OK…I’ve got it…ice cream…pudding?"
(index fingers pointing upward and swaying) “I know… you wanna listen to music”
(index fingers pointing downward) “Please turn off the TV set”
(middle finger pointing upward) “OK…you want me to adjust your pillows?"
(both middle fingers pointing upward and shaking) “Alright…alright – I know!…If you
hear Celine Dion one more time on the radio you’re gonna kick your bedpan off the side of
the bed!"

(arms folded across your chest)…”Rest handsome, rest…”

Ssshhhh...
It’s OK, Jeffrey...it's OK.
No more IV’s.
No more bedpans.
I have your pictures.
You're not sweating anymore.
I’m not choking...now.
Beautiful pillows…really…
TV’s turned off...
Ate the last of the ice cream
and the pudding...and...

And as I did -
I swallowed every part
of your triumphant, 
blessed soul.


Details | Rhyme | |

Lewis And Clark

They were Meriwether Lewis and William Clark,
Her name was Sacagawea.
On an expedition they did embark
Finding the passage to the sea.

Down the Missouri they traveled, 
Then slithered 'round the Snake River bend.
Rocky Mountain weather and sickness battled;
At the Columbia River they'd end. 



©2013 Honestly JT


Details | Free verse | |

Just Be

Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13


Details | I do not know? | |

Marriage Proposal For Eternity

I kneel and hand you this ring
That symbolizes our marriage and eternal love 
Maybe it's intuition
Some things you just don't question
Like in your eyes
I see my future in an instant
And there it goes
I know I've found my best friend
I knew I loved you before I met you
I believed and dreamed you into life
I have been waiting all my life for you

I've found my meaning to live again
I am complete now that I have found you
Anytime I need to see your face 
I just close my eyes
And I am taken to a place
Where love is born and secured
Sweet like fine sugar

I don't need to try to explain
I just hold on tight and if it happens again
I may move into to your heart
Look into my eyes they are not telling lies 
I'm the kind of person who endorses a deep commitment
Getting comfy seeking true love is what I live for
A smell of perfume knocks me down to your command 
It's like I'm down on the floor inside our heart
And I don't know what makes love and perfume
Have so many similarities that make two people bond 

Using symbols, using words can be linked

When love shoots it should be aimed for eternity
Eight things that make our love’s constitution strong 
I believe Jehovah God makes marriage last
I believe the sun should never set upon an argument
I believe you can't appreciate real love until you've been burned
I believe the most attractive features are the heart and soul
I believe that family is worth more than money or gold
I believe the only ones who disagree are players or evil spirits
I believe forgiveness is the key to true happiness
I believe in love surviving death into eternity

I want to move in time with you
I want my heart beat match yours
I want to feel your hand in mine
And do all the things you want me to
The autumn breeze that comes from the mountains
Will be the legitimate witness of my proposal for our love 
So I ask you to take this time to answer would you marry me?


Details | Narrative | |

The Fisherman

Never once have I been enclosed in exhaustion
Until now - like a black woolen blanket, drenched.
I've looked and crawled and even found unceasingly 
Before screaming from the riverbank: "This Is What It's For."
But now I can hardly whisper,
Sensing, maybe, a changing tide that sends the fish away
Or remembering past moons that moved them to more fertile feasts.

Yes - both it must be.
For now the water's meandering isn't hopeful wanderlust;
It only serves to annoy me.
And is it me or has its flow slowed?
Although now more than ever I note its swiftness
In comparison with the glassy new-born lake
Or the black curmudgeonly seas.

The gulls still call but no longer in triumph.
It seems it's morphed into a dirge
Though their wings still hang a crisp angel white in the sky.
Gliding, though again more slowly,
Before snatching a fish with ease;
Now it's mockery in their squawking. 

Continuing along,
Trudging through muddy waters,
I feel more akin to washed up wood
And the log floating on
Than to the swift fishermen
Across the river.
I sit and listen to their songs
Carried by the soft wind,
Encompassing the gull and my own fragile breath 
(A song of a son lost at sea and I can't find where to put my hands).
I taste their hope in the sand and the sun
And it oozes from my eyes.