Time Magician
Time
doesn't fly; it sashays right on by.
More magician than albatross.
Playing shell games with dreams.
An endless cosmic comedy
starring the damned and the lost.
I've degrees in procrastination
earned a P.H.D in missed opportunity.
Raised kittens to become lions-unlike me.
Steering them clear of black holes and ravines.
Around those that promise gemstone and flower.
But only give slag, weed, and sorrow
I thank my gilded father who gifted bushels of love.
And the thorny step for every black period of snappy discipline.
I thank the bouncer who stitched my runaway lips.
The silver cop who shoehorned me onto a straight and narrow ship...
without blowing me up or in.
Now I pause to thank God, the farmer.
Who watered and fed us during drought.
I thank the false prophets and haters.
Who never bothered to turn our satin hearts to rust.
(Sometimes there's nothing more important
than a spray of indifference and a burst of great luck.
...as the end draws closer,
I lay down regret and failures in full light.
In the form of a pyramid.
At the base lies a tangle of selfish snakes.
In the middle is abused and misplaced time.
At the top, a magician juggling sprinting dreams.
That I was never fleet nor clever enough to overtake.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2026
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.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
