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Best Time Poems

Below are the all-time best Time poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Time poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Time Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Time poems are below this new poems list.

Princess of Time by Grant , Lyric
Bell Curve Of Time by Stoner Jr, Robert
TO TIME TEASING TIME by lowe, millard
Tax Time by Adams, Cona
DOING TIME by CANNING, TANYA
Fleeting Time by Das, Nandita
OH YOUNG HONEY TIME by Devnath, BL
Twice Upon a Time by Nair, S.Jagathsimhan
A Time Honoured Stretch of a River by Laurie, Lindsay
Is It True That Time Heals by Paulsen, Angela

View all new Time Poems

The Best Time Poems

Details | Time Poem | |

The Clouds

"THERE HE WAS HOLDING HIS HAND OUT"

My voice=
God, can I hold your hand and go with you?

"Gods voice"
My sweet child, it is I who will walk with you now! You walked down my path with and without faith. You took my protection to ease your pain. My shielded wings comfort you during your moments of suffering while your life staggered across the earth... Your love and devotion are what made you strong. Every time your dreams were broken. You managed to build more dreams in their place. You called my name during your happiest and saddest moments. You always ran up to me when you fell behind. Your secrets became our private talks. The key to your heart was always unlocked. I was there during your trials and troubles of tribulations. We could not speak, but it was my light that would not allow you to get weak.

My voice=
Is this that dream of beauty? The one in the book my preacher spoke of. 
Yes! I remember it now it is called paradise. I felt this company once before, Lord.
Many times, I have forsaken this light, and still it never left my door.
I felt it the day I was born, and the day I became baptized in your holy name.
I felt this light before, can you explain it some more? 
Lord pleases clarify that day I fell down to my knees and accepted Jesus as my savior? 
Every day since, I felt as if you stood away and walked on by, allowing me to face my own failures’.  Was my life a waste in this impossible world?"

"Gods voice" 
My child, this is the everlasting light you will feel every time your body is re-born onto a new road.  This light never left you. 
My sweet child did you not listen, Matthew *19:26* MY SON looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with ME all things are possible. My child you were not searching for the right answers.

My voice= 
My Lord everyone told me if I prayed you would come. Did I not pray right?

"Gods voice"
My child sometimes your heart asked for more than life itself, which left questions for someone else.  
At times how could I answer when you shunned heaven away from your eyes?
The obvious question is whether this is the final immersing of your souls disguises.

My voice= 
Lord, I have other questions to ask. 
What should I expect out of my personal sins? My testimonial sits in the palm of your hand
My mind and my heart's inner core have been wicked since my adolescence days. 
How is it that I am in your promise land?

"Gods voice"
Getting right with me has brought you here!

My voice= 
One more question My Heavenly Father
Can I see them? My Daughter, Mothers, and Sisters~

by;PD

More great poems below...


Details | Time Poem | |

Magic Beans





Our first awareness
      falling through time
      through blood-rain, pure white snow, green vegetation 
      down into deep earth
      warm sunshine
      cool wind
      soaking rain

Energy flowing-up through our pod
      each day we grew bigger
      snug together with brothers and sisters
      bursting our little cozy shell
      then one day
      a father and daughter
      plucked us from the vine
      stripped – we lay bare upon a tray
      disorientated and tender but alive  
      a life force deep inside us
      our skin soft but hardening 
      then sleep . . . waiting for the one

Daddy!!  Come see the beans
They changed colors
I see brown ones with white specks
      Yellow with black dots
      Orange with blue stripes 
But wait  . . .  there are three larger beans that seem to glow and vibrate
      one is blood-red
      another . . .  brilliant white
      the last . . .  forest green
What does this mean daddy?
Is it evil?

No my sweet darling
These are special beans
Descended from an ancient garden long ago . . . 
      no longer of this world
It was a place of love and light
No death but a deep communion between mother earth and us
The three beans are:  Peace, Purity, Prosperity 

These beans will feed a starving world 
      Bring healing to the hurting
      Laughter to the downtrodden   
      Hope to the desolate 
      Love to the unloved   
      Life to the dead
These beans hold deep magic

How do they work Daddy?
      a worthy woman is chosen
      who is humble of heart
      strong in spirit
      wise in love 

Who is this lady?
      the magic beans choose
      they only appear to the one female
      you, my darling . . .  you are the one

Me?  I am only a girl
I have none of these things . . . 
      the beans see deep within a soul
      they never lie
      they have chosen you 
      together you will change the world!

Daddy, I am scared . . .
I am shaking 
I am not worthy
      breathe deeply, close your eyes 
      put the beans in your mouth

Daddy, I taste sweetness
Molasses, ginger, caramel . . . now chocolate 
I see visions upon the wind
Blood, wars, rage, yelling . . . unbearable things
      yes, darling the evil is strong here
      let the blood from the red bean flow
      let it mingle with your love
      it will defeat this evil and bring
      healing and forgiveness . . . peace

The white bean is singing with my voice – Daddy!
Sweet is her song
I see merriment, laugher, dancing . . . 
People hugging and holding hands
My tears are falling
Filling rivers with waters of light, love and purity
Joy reverberates from mountains peaks

From my open lips runs rich green sap
Deep does the earth drink
Big drafts of life and love
I see fields flowing with
Cream, honey, and wine
Trees waving to the sun
The earth is rejoicing

I see beans being planted 
In a garden
A man and a little girl
      yes, my Little One, soar now
      fill the world with your love
      fill the wind with your song
      love generously 

Such is the magic of these colored beans







David Meade
1/26/2015

Love Generously

Details | Time Poem | |

Night Comes

Softly and sadly
Up on the knoll;
The vesper bell
Begins to toll.

Lock all the doors
Blow out the light;
The hour is late
Sleep comes with the night.

Close all the windows
Smother the fire;
Sound slips into silence
When mortals retire.

Downstairs is deserted
No one in the hall
Nirvana of sleep
Rules over all.

A day's work completed
Now done like the day;
Rest is now needed
For those made of clay.

How soft is the night
Where dark shadows fall;
The seduction of sleep
Captures us all.


Details | Time Poem | |

September

"September, beautiful month of my birth, is nigh, but I cannot feel glad." September, drifting in with glow of moon, you stifle Summer’s ardor. . . and she grieves. In guise of fire, the Fall comes all too soon. Your breath grows cool. You’ll blow and loosen leaves. The hills and woodlands will reflect new hues. You stifle Summer’s ardor. . . and she grieves. In Autumn’s chill, the colors are a ruse. For as you pass, the trees are set ablaze. The hills and woodlands then reflect new hues. Though warmth may linger through your final days, old Sun is waning, yet he still seems strong! For as you pass, the trees are set ablaze. September, you’re a melancholy song. Though time be short, you paint a brilliant dusk! Old sun is waning, yet he still seems strong. October looms. . . Your ending will be brusque. September, drifting in with glow of moon, though time be short, you paint a brilliant dusk. In guise of fire, the Fall comes all too soon.
by Andrea Dietrich For the contest of Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~ "A Poem, Please"

Details | Time Poem | |

The Old Painter

 
sublime my paintings, memory be
lost in time, I now must see

where once the gale winds trembled chill
wrapped in blankets, remember still

a touch, a kiss, the summer sun
from deep within, must now be spun

I frolic to and fro in time
my brush, alas..... can only mime

I still can hear cicada's whine
but yearn for yellow celandine

tho memories fade, my spirit thrives
aflush! my paintings will survive!

More great poems below...


Details | Time Poem | |

Cry of the City


We will walk then, you and I

When daylight shuts her weary eye;

Down the streets where beggars sleep

And drug crazed addicts spend their keep.

On streets that wind through thick and thin

Past monuments of broken sin

The painted whores who smile a lot

A rejected child that time forgot.

 

The evening hymn that sorrows sing

The call to prayer that church bells ring;

The sounds and smells that rape a city

The calls for help that won't find pity.

Do we have time to heal the curse

That captures all the universe

Or would it really be worthwhile

To quell the question with a smile?

 

But we have walked these streets before

And hoped our ears could dim the roar

Of silence gripping cold nightmares

That come unbidden up the stairs.

We share the night with lesser fools

Who stake their plight without sound rules

For each new challenge finds old pain

That lives to give then comes again.


Details | Time Poem | |

Recording/Re-playing/Recording/Re-playing

The farm
     and the porch light hums 
the sound of another 
orange dawn.

Burnt up – crisp
      aching new reaches 
of the imagination turn 
from corn
      to wheat
to the pungent shade
of dried blood on hands –
kissing corners of a mouth
never kissed.

Sweeping ‘cross in whispers 
two thousand years
      and more, come
words on the flat-line horizon,
dripping sideways,
like a red cat's eye marble 
on a circular seesaw
that knows no bounds;
rolling infinitely back
     and forth - 
ringing through ears that were once
in that ago (can you hear it?)
hearing the coming of a storm 
     being heard 
by another set of ears,
in some other when –

     some other marble.

When, speaks the unspoken.
When, treads where none may tread.
When, grips the barren outcroppings of space –
playing the unending moments –
where no other question hence forth

can grip.

Night sounds come in floods
of mauve,
      and quiet apricot;
slicing through oceans,
unsung,
      where no ears hear.

The farm: echoing, lowing and fawning –
Trying to stay true 
      to form,
bleeds into the fibers of a dream
once lived –
recognizing its existence
through the act of a moment, 
      lived.

The girl turns to face 
the enormity
of all she has yet to hear upon 
      the brazen, blazing horizon;
she strips down to goose bumps 
on the skin
that God gave her; 
opening her mouth to hear all
that she is –
 
      breathing in the dawn 
as it breaks.

The farm notes this coming.

The sky knows;

The wind knows.

The earth knows - relaxing
at her feet
      exhaling
through her soles,
resounding through the mouth
of the un-kissed,

breathing through this land; 
humming through porch lights,
spinning through atoms,
sifting though heavens,
recorded through lifetimes,
      and through into another’s
open mouth.




© Kristin Reynolds 1/9/09

Details | Time Poem | |

Your Child's Eyes

The innocence lost so long ago
The undying faith we used to know
The gentle rain of a summer's skies
You can find it all in your child's eyes.

The world was right one time it seems
And we could reach beyond our dreams
To meet a challenge of any size
That fire still burns in your child's eyes.

In a world of anger and miscontent
And the frustrations of a life misspent
And you wait in fear as the storms arise
You can still find peace in your child's eyes.

Take the time for all those things
Hear his words: feel the joy he brings
There is no hate; there are no lies
There is only love in your child's eyes.

Details | Time Poem | |

The Eternal Tree

I am Alive    Forever and always         Essence        Rebirth        Renewal
          I have earth to ground me      I have wind to move me   I have fire to cleanse         
     my     spirit        I have rain      to quench    my thirst    for growth
                      I have sun to    enlighten me        feed me  I am my own mother
              and an extension of the whole     I am   Earth         wind
                       rain   sun  fire    I am as old as life  and I am     as young
   as time   I am shelter to those who seek me   I am a bird  a flower and  the breath
              of the earth itself        I am exactly where I want to be     I am life
       I am first and last  the beginning and the end   I am one from many
                        I am what I am   I live  I grow  and I die. I am  Reborn unto myself
                                                          I am the great circle                   
                                                           My limbs know no                          
                                                           Boundaries; while                            
                                                           My leaves whisper                      
                                                           The one truth of the                      
                                                           Whole  through the           
                                                           Seasons changing
                                                            Colors that I wear 
                                                            Upon my   heart's                  
                                                            Sleeve, I'm home
                                                           To Earth Mother’s
                                                           Melodious  Life; I
                                                           Sing for the whole
                                                         World to hear - trees
                                                       Are Earth Mother's Song
                                                       Blowing 'round the leafy            
                                                  Globe; eyes of the world song 
    {{{{{{{{{{{{{{ Of the Mother   breath of the living   soul of the earth }}}}}}}}}}}}




***Senses evoked here are: Touching, Tasting, Hearing, Smelling and Seeing
***Elements evoked are: Water, Wind, Earth Metal, and Fire

Details | Time Poem | |

Spring Bud

                                
                                 
                                  
                                 
                                
                                 My 
                               breath
                          shivers under  
                       a rug of loneliness,
                    a sleepy heart huddles
                   against such memories 
                 of togetherness and not of 
               goodbyes, hating to disperse 
               the fiery rhymes of your lips, 
                as well as the warmth of its 
                 sweat...tastes like red wine, 
                   then it beats...and beats
                     gently, as it envisions
                          you, in an early
                                misty
                                   s
                                  p
                                r
                               i
                              n
                            g






Details | Time Poem | |

Windowpanes

An ancient river, centuries-old shops and restaurants steeped in a 2000-year history and 
culture set the scene. The ambiance seemed divinely contrived to facilitate the purposes of 
our meeting and the very fodder from which the greatest poets are sustained.
Not newcomers to the area, Kay P. and I were assigned to the Army Security Agency Field 
Station in Augsburg, Germany in 1974. We were colleagues in the intelligence community 
with no romantic overtures to our relationship, save an appreciation of poetry and profound 
philosophical discussions. Kay wanted to spend the evening with a poet, so we planned the 
evening to be appropriate for the purpose. 
At the time and place, we quickly found ourselves hopelessly immersed in the philosophical 
foundations of my writings throughout the evening. It was the first time since Vietnam that 
I'd felt worthy as a person. I still recall sipping the red wine and feeling the warmth of the 
large hearth inside the Balkan eatery. I still see the swans gliding by on the Lech flowing by 
our café.

When windowpanes begin to weep with autumn's chilly dew, I'm taken back through seasons passed to one delight held true, A rendezvous that time allowed, a gentle evening spent Amid a time of long discord when days were dreary bent. I feel the stretch upon my lips, the smile returns once more. Again, I smell the Balkan fare prepared on Lech's old shore, The mood is cast in high regard, the wine is tart and dry, As Augsburg ripples in the wake when swans go gliding by. The ancient windows frame our view and day begins to wane As rivulets meander down and streak the dampened panes. The ambiance of ages passed beseeched us not to leave And held us in its warm embrace throughout the ebbing eve. My heart was scarred, without regard and hardened by the war But her esteem unveiled its worth, while nothing had before. She saw the child that once was me, I'd long since cast aside, And bade he climb astride his mount, engage his life and ride. Now, she is but a memory, whose kindness soothed my heart, For we embarked upon our lives on paths ordained to part. Her subtle way escaped my eye till time had made it clear That her esteem had set me free, that night I hold so dear. The poetry that filled my soul remains these many years, Impassioned in my warmest thoughts when autumn first appears, When windowpanes begin to weep, a-glisten with the dew, And I return to seasons passed, to one delight held true.

Details | Time Poem | |

Peal the Bells

Incessantly it trods and plods
perpetual the pendulum.
So long before the Abbey bells
tolled and told of hours passing,
before the ticks and tocks of clocks
or shadows told of solstice Gods,
no one to worship at its start
when first it leapt from fiery heart
and in its wake our petty worlds
grow and wither and grow again
until at last a violent end
as time forgets and races by.

The kindest heart, left drowned in tears
and wrapped in gross deformity,
yet sheltered by cathedral walls
in disrepair as much as he.
'Til Esmeralda's gentle hand
he knew no love, just hate and scorn
and like the brand from tempered flame
it's burning love that made him strong.
So like the edifice was he,
an ugly house that held God's love 
and Quasimodo's lonely heart
who'd ring the bells that silence hears.
Then, in the end, he found her dead
and sacrificed his mortal life
to sleep with one who truly gave
the only love he'd ever known.

Craig Cornish Iambic Tetrameter
First posted September 5, 2014
Revised on November 14, 2014

Details | Time Poem | |

Moonlight Madness

MOONLIGHT MADNESS

The moon falls out like a secret above the frisky clouds
Daylight and night the stars come in crowds
Like a glistening diamond, I can't stop staring
Mixed-up in that moment that has no time sharing

Holding onto the tip of the tree limbs like a puppeteer
I can hear the words the moon whispers into my ear

TONIGHT! 
I will illuminate into a world only I know of
My very own little secret sparkling island getaway
A world where beauty hides the beast
I'll be the only exile under a sunless night feast

TONIGHT! 
I'm going to pass on all my secrets away---
As I have on my dreaming moonlit gear
Comfort upon this mundane wonder, astronomical sphere. 

TONIGHT!
I looked one last time at the mooned night
I will close my eyes, and find myself in a box kite flight.

TONIGHT! 
I will lay myself down to sleep, 
Not allowing my imagination to rinse off with wild sheep
Like a Nightingale, I rather sit and serenade myself to sleep
With the refreshing thought, the moon is like the pillow I keep

In this mad, mad world!
The moon seems to be the only object that holds it's sanity
Arousing me with it's inner peace and spirituality  

Details | Time Poem | |

Frosted Panes - re-post

                                   
When winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
In that old house, where you wove that coloured tapestry
With all the glorious memories of your life upon the sea

With weathered palm so deeply etched with every season past
You rubbed a porthole in the center of the frosted glass
Where outside in splendour lie a winter-wonderland
As halos rose above your head from a pipe bowl in your hand

And there upon a rocking chair as smoke rings filled the air
We rocked across a sea of dreams wind tangled in our hair
To lands I’d never been before we stepped upon those shores
And through your eyes I saw each one and still I wanted more

The morning passed in dreams between two pairs of eyes of green       
As the world outside held its breath in a sea of snowy cream
And when the chill of winter melted from the windowpane
The whistling kettle on the stove brought us home again

You held my hand and looked at me with that twinkle in your eyes
And told me you would be my Captain 'til the day I died
So when winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again 

             ~~~~~


Written:  Jan 15, 2011

Author:  Elaine George
First Place in Brian Strand's contest:  Let's See
4th   Place In - Anything goes contest

In loving memory of my Dear Papa 'Captain James George'.


Authors Note:
When I was a child of three, I Went to live for a year with my Grandparents in Nova 
Scotia. At that time my Grandfather was a retired Sea Captain of a Three Mast 
Schooner. He had spent most of his life at sea, taking lumber and coal to New 
Brunswick and various ports in the U.S. and in the winter months, would carry on  to 
pick-up and deliver  cargo in the  West Indies. Although my time with him was short, 
the memories we shared have comforted me through-out the years.  
~~~~~


   
 


 

Details | Time Poem | |

Heritage

The ranch on which I hang my hat, though short on most the frills,
Is thirteen sections, give or take, of rugged trails an’ hills.
We call it ‘home’, our little world, our very own frontier,
Amongst the cattle, sheep an' goats; the varmints, hogs an' deer.

Today I watched the breakin' dawn an' whiffed the mornin' air,
A time I often set aside for things like thought an' prayer.
A Mockin'bird an' Mornin' Dove, an' other birds at play,
Were there to sing an' set the mood to start another day.

This mornin' saw the strangest thing, like time itself had merged,
An' all the souls who once were here, appeared an' then converged.
In swirlin' clouds of mist an' fog, right off the bluffs they rolled,
Till all had gathered in the glen, the modern an' the old.

The Indians, conquistadors, an' other ancient men,
The soldiers from this country's wars, an' cowboys from back when…
They all had come from yesterday to help me understand
Our link with those who came before, to heritage an' land.

A crazy notion, so I thought, that they could just appear,
But as the morning went along the reason got real clear.
They rode along with me that day to show me things I’ve missed,
The things I’ve seen a thousand times an’ some I’d just dismissed.

Those wagon roads of long ago, still evident today,
Are carved in rock an' rutted earth, not apt to wash away.
They linked the missions, forts an' towns those many years gone by;
An' left their mark for all to see, as modern times grew nigh.

The artifacts an' weathered ruins attest to yesterdays,
When others came an' lived their lives in very different ways.
We've seen their skill in arrowheads they honed from fired stone,
An' craftsmanship in beads an' tools they fashioned out of bone.

At ever turn and trail we took was something to remind,
The Maker must have had a plan laid out for humankind.
The Earth He made’s been feedin' us a half-a-million years,
An' used it's wonder, force an' change to challenge pioneers.

I do not know if they'll return or if they’ll feel the need,
But I’m prepared to ride the trail, where ever it may lead.
We all are spirits ridin’ time with bodies of the Earth,
Whose time has come to take the reins an’ offer up our worth.

The land has been the legacy we cultivate an’ reap,
The life has been the heritage our father’s fought to keep,
An’ we are bound throughout our time with those who came before,
To put our hearts and souls to it, and make it something more.

Details | Time Poem | |

When the Flowers of Youth Fell

When the Flowers of Youth Fell

Winter stayed late that year
courting Spring with a fury.
Beautiful gifts of snow
and dazzling ice, he gave her.
It was during such courtship
I found myself lost -- adrift
in a place that once was ....
decades from this century.

Where mud and blood held hands
beneath duty and honour
and kindred flowers fell
to sounds of bugle and drum.

Smoke arose through Spring's tears.
Images of Blue and Grey
pilfered my breath as cannons 
rained thunder upon the brave.

How was this happening?
This was not where I belonged!
My time was not this place
and I wanted to go home.
Where Winter courted Spring
and snowmen fell -- not flowers --
upon the muddy ground
as snow reigned upon the brave.

The smell of gun powder
danced about my head and nose
like spirits for the faint --
arousing life ... far from home. 
"Get down! Get down! Get down!"
The half-crazed voice plunged me 
into the mud and blood
and I lay frozen in fear
beneath his weight ... and the cold. 
So cold, no hearts were beating, 
no breaths were being drawn, 
just the smell of sweat and blood.
The smell of rain and death.

Clutched tightly in his pale fist 
a tattered blood-stained note
bore the words, "Please ... for
mama ...."      
I tried but could not scream. 
And, I felt daylight passing ....

As shadows took the brave,
Winter's folly tamed sweet Spring
with final coats of snow ....
and snowmen fell -- not flowers. 

3.08.2013
Deborah Burch

Details | Time Poem | |

TIME PIECES

TIME PIECES

grandfather clock
time so easy to take apart
this child
with broken heart
couldn’t piece back together


that moment
she frowned and closed the door
i checked my watch
second hand stopped
gone forever more


summer vacation

hour hand
locked on 3:00 o’clock 
minute hand
but a tick tock away
“tick tock”   hooray!


in my closet
out of body   out of mind
out of time
nor even strong wind
can rattle the door

Dave Austin

Details | Time Poem | |

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 | Time Poem | |

Nobody Told ME

Nobody told me that the road would be EASY,
Believe ME.
With every BREATH,
I begin to feel one with DEATH.
Wondering why it’s not me lifeless in the GRAVE.
Wondering why my life is being SAVED?
The more I breathe in this world’s AIR,.
The more I seem to CARE.
The more than I APPRECIATE,
Every time I AWAKE. 
Every time I CRY,
Every fear I FACE,
I’m realizing I’m living NOW,
 for a purpose, while preparing MYSELF, 
for a better PLACE.
I do not know what tomorrow BRINGS,
But I know what today IS.

My tomorrow results from what I make of TODAY!
Today determines what my tomorrow may BRING!
Yesterday helps factors a fraction of my TODAY!

But nobody told ME!
The weight of the world would be carried by ME.
I knew it would be HARD,
but never did I think it would be this DIFFICULT.
I never thought I would actually loose so MUCH,
before I gain so LITTLE.
I never thought the little gain, would mean so MUCH!

I never realized how little I CRIED,
Until when I TRIED,
 		no tears would FLOW.
And when they started they would never STOP!
And when they stopped, the feelings would still REMAIN!


Nobody told me I would loose so many KEN.
Nobody told me I would loose several of my close FRIENDS.
Nobody told me I would feel so low DOWN.
Nobody told me I would be hurt by words SPOKEN.
Nobody told me my heart would be constantly BROKEN.

But even if they had told ME, 
all of this and much MORE.
It would have never prepared me to be the CHOSEN!





Details | Time Poem | |

Mirror, Lie to Me

I stare at my mirror
So shocked by what I see
There is a strange woman
Staring right back at me

I must’ve been abducted
This must be a crazy trick
For the reflection that I see
Is making me quite sick

Are those horrid wrinkles?
Is that a double chin?
The neck that was my joy
Is pillar like- not thin!

My eyes have no sparkle
They look listless and glazed
Perhaps it’s hard to focus
When I feel so dazed

Maybe it’s just a dream
From which I will awake
For how could that be me?
I’m sure it’s just a fake

I pinch myself real hard
The mirror woman screams
Oh no, it must be true
Now both of us cry streams

Mirror, you’re a traitor!!!
Mirror, this is a crime!!!
I order you to hide!!!
The tell-tale signs of time!!!

Do me a small favor
Tell me a little lie
Reflect a younger me…
Oh please, give it a try!

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Details | Time Poem | |

Gathering of the Golden Girls - Soup Convention

Four “Golden Girls” seated at a table
Grey streaks our hair, but minds remain stable
     Convention is underway
     Michael has something to say
He opens our meeting with a fable
 
It’s about a tortoise that beats a hare
Some of the “fast writers” begin to glare
     Joyce, Francine and Barbara know
     It takes time for verse to grow
We’re the queens of rewriting; this we swear
 
Iolanda’s introduced to read her book
“Lava of my Soul,” no gobbledygook
     We’re mesmerized by each line
     At the end we toast with wine
Joyce says, “Now those words took some time to cook.”
 
It’s Karen’s turn to read “Silent Whispers”
We see tears falling into John’s whiskers
     “Tears of joy,” Francine exclaims
     For Karen’s Best Seller fame
Applause rings out from grateful listeners
 
After the “meet and greet” it’s nearly dawn
The crowd starts to thin as our comrades yawn
     Joyce, Francine call it a night
     But Barbara still sits upright
We two remain when most others are gone
 
One poet called us “Late Night Cockroaches”
This indignity did not encroach us 
     We call ourselves “LNCs”
     Awake in wee hours with ease
Waiting for our princes to approach us
 
That’s when the James Brothers draw near
Peranteau and Fraser, to make it clear
     With two erotic writers
     LNCs pull “all nighters”
Knowing that we can propose; it’s Leap Year!
 
 
*Entry for Michael’s “A Table of Four” contest
At my table: Carolyn Devonshire
Joyce Johnson
Francine Roberts
Barbara Gorelick
 



Details | Time Poem | |

PERCEPTION

   PERCEPTION

Before the abyss, I had it all
Letting go of all I see
My friend, I hope our time won't end
It took a short time for you to notice 
Without knowing who I am 
We talked, we became friends

Connecting the dots, missing every line
Connect them and figure me out
Randomly it comes your way
Underneath a never known chemistry
Ask me to stay and I may
Grinding your teeth into my way
Cut out my eyes, and store them up
A tongueless mouth, nothing to say

Maybe by tomorrow you will forget
Losing myself in my own conversation
Hiding behind my one big regret
Don't know, Don't care
You had me open up
A book I closed, knowledge lost

No need to see 
A mystery called deception
What I am cannot be seen with the naked eye
Along came you using your *ucked* up perception
The ability you miss use
making sense of this connection
A process you carry with your own  patterns
You asked, you listened,  without making assumptions
A taste to take off my shoulders, 
To release an error locked in my Asylum
I myself am enjoying the insights about him
He's got me convince, using his perception
               
  :)
SKAT

Details | Time Poem | |

Each Day Takes its Turn

Standing firm 
we live 
we give 
we take 
we learn 
we strive to make sure 
each day enlightens us 
and brightens us
even as light fades to gray 
may we keep fighting 
with two swollen feet
beneath the body and soul 
experiencing trials 
and intense life lessons 
meshed with stresses 
may we persevere 
turn off  fear's song 
may we stand firm 
as we glide along 
through shifty winds of change 
that may cause things to sway
rearrange
but we hold true
inside the values and morality
we stand for 
we
fall for nothing 
we
may stumble along the trip 
we 
may swerve at the wheel yet 
we 
do not lose our grip
because no one 
can eclipse the sun 
yet
everyone heals 
before they're done

Just when situations arise 
flooding us with pain we despise
and just when it seems like
our tear ducts are dry 
from ongoing cries
we may think 
things are on the brink of ending
then God shows us the ways of faith
by way of love that he's sending

Standing firm 
we live 
we give 
we take 
we learn 
we make sure 
every day enlightens us 
and brightens us 
as each day takes its turn. 

~JSLambert



Details | Time Poem | |

Mileage on My Heart

The thought of seeing you again fills me with dread
I know the day will come; it’s inevitable
Mileage on my heart, feels like a worn out retread
Recycled emotions are undesirable

I know the day will come; it’s inevitable
My spirits sink at the mere mention of your name
Recycled emotions are undesirable
There was once a time your face set my heart aflame

My spirits sink at the mere mention of your name
What happened to those days? You were my special man
There was once a time your face set my heart aflame
This point we’ve reached was surely not in our game plan

What happened to those days? You were my special man
Our spring turned to winter faster than I could blink
This point we’ve reached was surely not in our game plan
Stop the world, let me off; I’m standing on the brink

Our spring turned to winter faster than I could blink
Mileage on my heart, feels like a worn out retread
Stop the world, let me off; I’m standing on the brink
The thought of seeing you again fills me with dread


By Carolyn Devonshire
For Paula Swanson’s “Pantoum” contest

Details | Time Poem | |

Gold Star

I remember as a young boy, going out to play, I would sometimes see old Mr. Kimball, sitting on the steps of his porch, often reading the paper. World War II was in full swing so the newspapers and radios were avidly sought out for the latest news.  Mr. Kimball was a fireman, and probably not even that old, but he seemed that way to me.

Sometimes, he would invite me to sit with him and we would talk about everything and nothing.  I loved spending time with him because, he was the only grown up I knew that took the time to entertain the mind of a young boy.

In his front window hung a small flag. It had a red border surrounding a white field, upon which there were two blue stars.  I was always curious about it, so I asked him what it was.  He said “It's a Sons in Service flag.  One star for each son serving.  You remember my boys don't you?”  I did of course.  Chuck, the oldest, used to tease me, calling me a sissy to get a reaction.  Bobby was a couple of years younger, and the bike I was riding once had been his.

Mr. Kimball went on to explain how Chuck was now in the Army and fighting in France.  Bobby was in the Navy, aboard a ship somewhere in the Pacific.  He didn't say it, but I'm sure he was worried about both, communications being what they were back then.

One day, when I was walking over to see him, I noticed that the flag had changed.  It now carried one blue star, but the other one was gold.  With the innocence that comes of being a child, I asked what the gold star meant.  He quietly said “It means Chuck is coming home”, and without further comment, he turned and went in the house.

A couple of days later, I saw a hearse pull up to the Kimballs house, and four men carry a flag draped box up the porch steps.  That is the moment the meaning of war came to a small boy.  I knew Chuck was home.