A Measure of Time

Poet's Notes

(Show)

Become a Premium Member and post notes and photos about your poem like Thresha Reese.

I don't often use punctuation

There is no punctuation in this poem

I leave it to the reader to hold their breath in time and at their own pace so that the poem may resonate for them

Thank you for the read

timing is everything
pretty much anytime 
anyhow anyplace                    

morning noon or evening            
whatever the birth date
no matter the season
or how tight the G-string
victuals and drink 
the chiefs of a good diet

this old woman could not be quiet  
she wiped her clammy hands 
on a mellow yellow chiffon dress 
Circa 1959

timing is overdressed             
always never again 
maybe sometimes never thrice

the aging colors                    
of dusty dreams
invite us to frolic 
but only briefly
now that it's technical
there are no more heroes

this old lady only waved           
when she was yawning
where had her archives gone
into a lifetime of sea

timing is to blame                 
cooks faster than bacon
doesn't stop and carries a knife

hour after hour reaches out         
blinds us to see
takes us half the way there
days tripping over rock stars
nothing is by accident
in adjoining rooms
  
that old lady never listened        
had many years of unread messages
lost the keys to the Jeep
waited for the next available rep

timing held its breath            
up-to-the-minute
it was no small matter 

prior days posted 
atop one another  
stealing sunshine 
never recoiling
yesterday at sundown 
she crashed the ATV

this old lady lived to skål
joy rides at the speed of sound
backward and past the contrasts  
always in a leopard pill-box hat

timing had meant everything         
still in response to yesterday
it was no grand prize

a gray higgledy-piggledy shrub           
below the tidal noise        
standing in the doorway with poise
blocking the Entrance
that's what ^tiempo_ was
cowbells and castagnettes

this old lady kicked it
in an instant such as this
cursed by seasons of glare
life kissed her feet in recompense

timing and it's belongings
had paced past and present
and lasted but a moment

in the vestibule by the portal
there is a possessed clock
it stages lifetime shifts
every step you take up or down the staircase
days weeks months years decades
a life-span of keeping your eyes on it

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.