Best Hourglasses Poems
Sheer lucid waves caress this oyster beach,
an aqua drowse viewed through a saffron lend,
and siren rip tides coax into a breach
as lambent grains of sand insouciant wend
the dunes of torpid eons through the bend
of hourglasses warped like new-blown glass.
In half-remembered mimes soft breezes send,
behind my eyelids as sweet lilts amass,
the plucking of a lyre string as high seagulls pass.
4/6/18
Categories:
hourglasses, beach, imagery,
Form:
Rhyme
In this world and in this life
(Are we all just another number)
A tax statistic or
a corporation's itemized figure.
There are of the pluses and negatives.
The accounting of the additions and then the subtractions.
These are the balance sheets of life.
This is with "gains, and losses."
Is that the higher plan for mortal man
existence on this dusty earth?
A salary, or no salary.
A bank account, or no accounts.
Zeros and Ones, 1, 0.
Added together are they supposed to be fine gold?
A man’s worth weighed
on a numbered scale of more or less.
Were we created to be only digital number notations?
Numbers in hourglasses filled with very fine earthly sand.
Grains of sand running then emptying,
into the canvas of time.
This of dusty dust: yet, not solely returning to the ground.
For, we are very, very much, much more: than that ever seen.
"Yes, not solely just numbers indeed!"
Categories:
hourglasses, appreciation, hyperbole, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse
Tracking time has changed throughout the years
Improving how hours, minutes, seconds appear
Sundials, hourglasses, pendulums and more
Wall, wrist, mantle, waterproof - clocks galore
There is a certain beauty to time hanging from a chain
A charm of steady ticking from a wound-up spring
Some families hand down diamonds, silver, or lockets
Heirlooms that include timepieces in pockets
Traditionally these events are solemn occasions
Like weddings, high school or college graduations
Grandfathers will take sons or grandsons aside
To privately bequeath his pocket watch with pride
He will slowly raise the timepiece to his ear
Pausing to listen to the ticking gears
Dangling the chain he clicks cover to open
Reverently holding the beloved token
Peering into the crystal face with serious affects
Both mentally count the second hand’s ticks
With slight nod of head grandfather might relay
Special words of wisdom in his own way
I remember with fondness my own ceremony
Granddad’s advice more valuable than money
“The thing about time that will help you
Is be where you are whatever you do”
Thanking my Granddad we shook hands
In hindsight I know I did not fully understand
Years swiftly passed with many tick tocks
Today I give my Grandson Granddad’s pocket watch
Written 1-17-2016
Favorite Contest
By Casares Nance
Third Place
Categories:
hourglasses, culture, family, father son,
Form:
Rhyme
The desire for you has lasted a thousand years
The sadness of loss has brought many tears
The love in our hearts has lasted forever and a day
The look in your eye makes time melt away
The sound of your voice stops the clocks flowing hand
The smell of your hair ceases the hourglasses flowing sand
The touch of your hand halts the very turn of the tide
The essence of your soul stops the beat of my heart deep inside
Categories:
hourglasses, love,
Form:
Rhyme
I thought that I could resist you
Until you fell down at my feet
Seeing those hungry wanting eyes
I prayed, my soul you would not eat
Now the preacher could not save me
As I succumbed to your embrace
A feeble man that seemed so strong
Would be ensnared by one in lace
You made me scream like a baby
For I knew that I had a choice
A mad quest for carnal pleasures
I was enticed by sultry voice
Luscious whispering in my ear
The simple promise that you made
We just had a single evening
Yet within my mind you stayed
Why couldn't the old preacher heal me
when before him my sins were layed
Although the pleasure was fleeting
The memory of you wouldn't fade
All I had was that one photo
Of you the girl with wanting eyes
I've consumed so many hours
A fool holding onto my lies
For as the Mercury rises
Silver tendrils reach for my hand
I'm a man who feasts on famine
Cracked hourglasses hold no sand!
The preacher revealed my secret
My indiscretion was exposed
In the end I found my freedom
When the chapter of lust was closed!
A write for Lyrics II Rob Carmack's Black Crowes Contest
Inspired by their song "Descending"
A purely fictional write.
Categories:
hourglasses, beauty, betrayal, desire, imagination,
Form:
Lyric
Memories
become sand full of hourglasses.
One thousand snowflakes are one thousand dead cats in the Hudson River.
Memories hurt.
They are Michael Schofield broken out of prison.
Prison is the look on your father’s face.
We had the same face. I used to remember him being younger.
Once he was James Dean going bald and with a cause.
Now he is the weeping willow pretending to be a Christmas tree.
Trees are ebony towers to admire. They take the place of hands, and lips and voices. Sometimes they can speak but only when you aren’t listening.
I hear ghosts I met a long time ago. Their voices mix like bad wine.
They have a lot to say to somebody else.
Words
were daggers but became backfiring nunchucks.
Painting mosaics is more like scribbling outside the lines.
A car with no brakes and no gas.
An automatic pistol being fired by your shadow, armed with toothpaste ammunition. Nothing adds up because math can’t help.
Lithium is the iron curtain to save the free world.
Conversations are only permitted in dolphinese in the broken dunk tank.
Words twist like ivy at Wrigley Field and taste like blood if you impede upon traffic.
Fifty two card pick up and “will you marry me” mean the same thing.
She had no words for either of me, even if I remembered.
Mirrors
are grown in fields on the dark side of the moon.
They are sold to the vain but crawl into the vein.
They shout at jet takeoff volumes.
We use them as search engines even though they don’t have Wi-Fi.
They are the jealous, condescending friend we have to put up with.
A high school dropout who prefers to lean on a wall and do nothing.
Mirrors were made to be smashed. They deserve to go to hell but never do.
They join their cousins the broken beer bottles from West End in a cozy hole
where they can make out with nuclear sludge and give birth to North Korea.
Then they can go on vacation to the beach where they grew up
and create memories that disappear.
He told me who I was and wasn’t without speaking but he was wrong.
Now he won’t look at me and neither will she.
Two-dimensionalism is bliss.
Categories:
hourglasses, confusion, introspection, words, me,
Form:
Free verse
An explosion of hair in her face is disclosing
the beauty of the eyes veiled beholding
a dream unfolding where the poor are gold and
war is at most a bloody tale told in
the misty night when the tired have grown old with-
-out the tolls of belly aches, headaches, of long days, and frights
Bold in that stare behind her marigold locks
unearthing sand from the cogs of the clock
to find the prophecies of ink written in chalk
and the hourglasses spilling time when broken in thought
Speared was a heart fleeing the thought
of what values would be shed plucking clots
leaving erased from the gallows written red where thou arts
To thank love apologize not from a part
within the within the humanitarian chart
is to disgrace predecessors flooded where caught
red-handed bearing spirits not winded but sought
Ever flusters her retreating tendrils, those magnificent knots,
from their comfortable or fleeting pores, where ink drops on the flesh and blots
(written sometime during a dark 2015)
Categories:
hourglasses, anxiety, beautiful, depression, mental
Form:
Rhyme
a voice
has the choice to speak
into the pockets of wind which are parcel carriers
connecting the truth with whispers
heard on a deafening level
only overshadowed by silence
shaking loose the lies
sleeping in the crevices of the fraying veil
tattered in sounds of smiles sounding laughter
to tear open the tears that have damned up faith
leaping like a frog catching light
born from incubators in the veins of lily pads
padding pillow tops underneath narcoleptic dreams
envisioning a visage of voluptuous vaults
protecting gemstones donated by gravity
in a tail spin
spinning tales to be told
at a dinner party hosted by the sun and the moon
gathering gratitude with a net made of stars
caressing composure courageously
with hearts beating in synchronized stares
staring into eyes worn by your energy
that has been an architect for our ancestors
since an apparatus was designed to authenticate
inspiration used to create and validate
reasons to change like the seasons
seasoning the hourglasses recycling time
tripping over lay lines beginning to sway
like the song fermenting in the clouds still yet to rain
so let go of the reins
there's no sense in trying to control
reflecting directions reflectively directed
by reflections that direct a reflected directive
able to reflect inner directives
balancing the compass
leading to compassion
so blossom and pass on in
don't forget to remember landmarks
marking the lightyears you've traveled
aging with grace given by the ripples of righteousness
nestling the words i was chosen to write
for us
Categories:
hourglasses, appreciation, light, mirror, mystery,
Form:
Lanterne
Moonlit ride, darling Jasmine at his side
Strode the carpet ride, the night was young
Devil was in the details though, as they glide
Across the desert, time sadly crept and clung
To their faces, bodies, as they were older now
Genie no longer in the bottle but having fun
Freedom tasted sweet i'm sure, but frowning
Was Jafar in his castle from afar, fighting none.
The Sultan too was sad to see, ever older
The sands of time ravaging them all cold
Twisted rhymes turned the glass over again
Terrible dreams Aladdin thought to himself then
It must be true, about how they were not to mix
Recalling this in his bag of tricks, he deftly pulled
It from his pocket, a trinket frozen in time and six
Magical rubies, put in the hourglass and not to be ruled
By tyranny of chronos any longer, they would be young
Again, but wisdom would be completely lost as well
So well, back in the pocket and back to the ride he flung
Jasmines arm over his shoulder and all was again swell
------------------------------------
For Sweet Linda-Marie's contest: "DISNEY"
By: Tim Bryant
Categories:
hourglasses, adventure, time, travel, sweet,
Form:
Rhyme
Stuck in a loop,
Staring into space,
Time and time again,
Making the same mistakes...
Soaring one moment,
Crashing the next;
From long conversations
To unanswered texts;
Hourglasses and pendulums,
Keepers of time,
Are stopped and restarted,
The clockwork rewinds;
Stories are rewritten,
Hearts are unfurled,
Memories fade away,
To the beginning I return.
Categories:
hourglasses, life, love,
Form:
Ballad
I’ve been chasing shadows for so long, I know not what else to do
I’m left wondering what went wrong, was it lies, was it true?
Looking back upon foot prints cast, they seem so shallow to me
In stepping light and stepping fast, was there no time to stop and see?
Half a lifetime lost upon the sand, of hourglasses smashed and lost
Slipping slowly through my hand, only now I stop to count the cost
This beat was all twisted and deceived, with images of golden joy
Those images could not be received, nothing but the dancers toy
I’ve been chasing shadows for so long, I know not what else to do
I don’t know how to sing my song, now I’ve stopped chasing you.
Categories:
hourglasses, introspection, life, lost love,
Form:
Rhyme
"Travel light" Santa said to me as I grappled for all my most
treasured belongings. I stuffed them all in a duffle bag, then with the silliest
of grin on my face I said, " Ready"
The ride up was exhilarating to say the least, and the landing well
lets just say I don't recall getting there...
It felt like I was placed in a big glass bauble filled with tinsel,
joyful elves and little miniscule hourglasses containing reflective
light particles that flew out into the atmosphere through
smokescreen windows, tinted with pink magic glass.
I was tired from the trip so Santa led me to this little room made of logwood,
then he handing me a peppermint hot chocolate and said, " good good dreams, my girl "
What did I dream you ask ? Well, its much too long to retell today,
you will just have to wait until tomorrow, when its Christmas day !
Categories:
hourglasses, appreciation, christmas,
Form:
Free verse
I will not weep for you.
Too often did the tears rise and fall
like salted hourglasses holding the deluge back.
You slipped away quiet, unheard by the clock on the wall
and our rainbow world slipped into black.
I shall weep again.
Memory and heartache go hand in hand
and the slightest thing tugs at my heart.
You were my everything, my greatest fan
yet death's distance draws us apart.
I have cried a million tears.
Still your face lies clear in my blurred eyes
and as I wipe them all away
my heart asks and wonders why
you could not stay.
Categories:
hourglasses, angst, cry,
Form:
Rhyme
America was born in protest violence,
but Lady Liberty now has
postpartum memento —
A colonial, hypocritical condition called:
Revoltee Protestation Amnesia
Wavy umbilical vanished memories,
of destructive actions ~ Terrible justification deeds
needed to break the bond of perceived tyranny
Swaddled in a dissent slogan banner,
her Revolution baby
first words uttered were:
“No taxation without representation”
Shedding musket tears
of colonial employ,
the charter tyke was weaned on
East India Company tea
But the parliamentary shackles
of free speech
assembly oppression
hurt America Revolution baby’s
neck too much
She couldn’t breathe liberty
as fetter such
Swift economic growing pains
bare witness how
the colonial child's voice changed
Words of pretty mild dissent
turned protest ugly
Her juvenile behavior
developed bosom rage violently
It kindled a revolt-tea dumpster fire
At the righteous protestation
adolescent phase,
the Revolutionary young lady
riot-tossed
into the Boston harbor
the British tea
Utter-ly destroying property of the E. India company
Oh, how the Revolution woman-child’s
anger burned —
Torch subtle as volatile voices often be
In Native American disguise,
she killed collaborative officials,
who worked for
the England government subsidiary
And when the fiery rage of her
riotous vexation
died down
This famous act of violence
subsequently became
protest
praiseworthy
renown
My, ooh my: Violence never was so romanticized!
What a violent birther story,
wouldn’t you agree
But now a few hourglasses
filled with Crown Royal ambrosia:
America has drunken pride,
blackout deeds of protest amnesia
At the ripe age of whine maturity,
the Revolution contrary woman now do flag foreswear
she’s peacemaker toting as can be
Cursed be her revolt-tea dumpster fire, blackout memories
So don’t you darkie dare,
with grievance sidearms raised,
try to protest violently
Ain’t it funny how,
with memento frowns,
hypocrites forget so easily
Categories:
hourglasses, america, history, philosophy, political,
Form:
Narrative
let us say the summer that year
was a cliché to its lovers.
And its once open windows stood
firm
against Prying Eyes.
Perhaps the silver
smoke of automobiles rose toward the waiting sun that
climbed so eagerly. we didn’t know.
Summer was a witness
A watcher
Tracking our movements, counting our
numbered pulse beats
our Numbered Kisses
—of sweet desert rain
when the creosote bush was thick in the air—
our crimson liquids
moving fast through
the chalks of our skin
And the rouge on your cheek seemed
almost translucent to me
as time itself, sifting between
Hourglasses broken shattered
With memories tainted
stained—
and let us say that Dandelion perfume lingered on our parted lips
—it was pungent, maybe, as the saline tears
where lashes are sieves—
clinging to the pads of our fingers.
our identities
veiled by tiny white seeds
that may,
In the winter (when the sun cracks along its crevices
like melons in the heat),
bury themselves deep into our pores, Waiting
For that last Dandelion seed
to surrender
Categories:
hourglasses, life, loss, lost love,
Form:
Free verse