Best Time Poems
"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!
You're passing on, and 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!
You're passing on, and 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.
8/29/11
for the '2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 7' Poetry Contest of Mark Toney
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.
Crystal winged hourglass flows muted gold sand
as time turns red dawn to pink dusk once more;
life’s tapestry fades as years so expand
but love in the heart gives youth to restore
when embraced with so much left to explore.
Crystal winged hourglass portrays such fleeting
finite life as time slips by depleting;
with love reborn, awoken from sleeping
so shall heavenly days be accreting -
when sand flows no more - just joy, no weeping.
Entering the doorway through my heart
Following the nuance of space
Allowing expansion ~ mystery ~ and curiosity
To guide me into realms of spiritual awakening
Journeying through moments in time
Filled with opportunities
To appreciate and cherish
To express gratitude
To be connected to the forces
Of nature and humanity
Together we take flight
Guided by white hawks
Silently lifting off
Into darkened skies
Kissed by gray hues
Alighting on silken clouds
Transporting us higher
A deep inhale as gentle breezes
Tickle my earlobes and caress my soul
My heart is open ~ expanding ~ gaining insight
Exposed
My tears flow freely
I allow the pain and suffering to become me
As I focus on illumination and helping others
With embracing arms and heart alive
Calling out to our elders and animal spirits
To join in our collective dance
The soft wind carries us
We float and fly and glide
Entering the realm of light
Sunbeams vibrating at the edges of perception
A fuzzy twinkling as our eyes excite
Riding magic cloud carpets
Above ocean’s breast
Gazing down
The beauty becomes us
Gold light rays skate on undulating waves
Illuminating tide’s glimmering foam
A waltz of light and sound
Briny majesty
Luminous shafts dance and sway
In a lovers embrace
Across veridian waves
Passionately singing out
Becoming one
Our voices ~ melodies
Songs of our ancestors
Ballads from distant shores
Past and present
Reveal themselves in
Tender haunting notes
Arriving on mist’s fingertips
Hoovering close to Mother Ocean’s surface
We hear her heartbeat
Lap lap lap ... bubbles ... breath
Surface foam breaking
She appears in nature’s coat of shiny black
A regal humpback
A tranquil Goddess welcoming us
We ride upon this graceful giant
As she whispers her secrets
Feeling her slow movement
Through watery depths
Turning gently ~ moving up and down
We welcome her strength as
Turquoise tides caress us
Guided by celestial navigation .... we ride
Gazing up at the sparkling stars
We listen to the collective heartbeat of eternity
One breath
One exhale
Together
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.
Receive
Listen
Be Still
Whispered words arriving on teardrops of the wind
They call to me
Embracing me so that I may exhale
For a moment in time
I look down to see the child woman curled up on my lap
Quietly dreaming
I stroke her sleep dampened hair and
Caress her cheek gently with my palm
Oh, child of mine
Allow me to reach in and
Cradle your wounded heart
Let me carry your pain and worry
Stirring, she turns her face revealing
A half-eyed sleepy smile
A gift I have treasured for centuries
Remembering the day
I walked through the trees of time
Lime, emerald, forest green, moss, juniper, ochre, and kiwi
Yellow tinged velvet leaves ride silver breezes
Tree people
Miraculous sacred creatures
Birthed of mother nature
Beckon me onward and inward
Towards water’s edge where moving mirrors of
Intellect and mystery await me
I walk with my companion who rides on my shoulder
The white hawk of my dreams
Narrating our passage through space and time
Howl Howl Howl
Stories above me, monkeys wearing fur
Play and swing
Screeching, flying, and tumbling through the air
Reaching sacred river’s edge
I pause and hear silent footsteps
Of the others joining
I gaze at the flowing water
Reflections of the lost ones float by
Faces of those who have passed from this life
I reach out and kiss each one with my fingertips
All of us gather ~ standing and joining hands
Collectively we reach up towards the heavens
We rise as one
Taking a moment to listen and
Receive grace from one another
A glimpse and a grin are shared
As I squeeze the weathered hand
Of my fellow human
Up Up Up Up
We float above the majestic green canopy
A glorious carpet of
Lavender clouds awaits
The day moon and the day sun kiss
As they watch us rise
A moment of gratitude shared by all
POTD
9/12/2023
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 cicadas' whine
but yearn for yellow celandine
tho memories fade, my spirit thrives
aflush! my paintings will survive!
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
Sometimes life is such a bore we run on automatic;
Then it’s time to tango for a dash of the dramatic.
Or when things are dull and only gusto will suffice,
We cha-cha or calypso to inject a dose of spice.
We hustle off to work each morning, foxtrot through the day
And hope that time’s electric slide just melts the hours away.
At clock-out time we say goodbye and jitterbug on out;
We hokey-pokey home because that’s what it’s all about.
Some easy days we waltz on by; we’re caught up in the swing
And lindy-hop or tap our way through all that life can bring.
We may go round in circles or, to deal with our despair,
Find someone we can partner with and do-so-do with flair.
For life is like a dance and we are held within its sway;
We dip and twirl and fake the steps, from polka to ballet.
The music of the atmosphere imbues us with its beat
And if we choose to hear it, we just follow with our feet.
In between my autumn and winter years
Time passes without notice, seeking you
In remembrance of our time, through my tears,
Of passions we shared just you and I knew.
I wait until I am with you again…
At times I feel your warm breath on my cheek.
I recall the past that cannot compare,
A moment with you is all that I seek,
Yet memories now are all that I share.
I wait until I am with you again…
I know you’re waiting to welcome me where
Our soul lights will mingle forever more.
With love’s passion I feel you waiting there.
I yearn to be with the man I adore.
I wait until I am with you again…
My hair is now white like the winter snow,
I listen to music we both enjoyed
And my love, still true, continues to grow.
I search the skies and I’m lost in the void.
I wait in love ‘till I’m with you again.
7-9-22
~Poem of the Day July 11, 2022~
Thank you very much Team Poetry Soup
~Ninth Place Premiere Contest~
THE TIME BETWEEN THE SEASONS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues
A new borns cry
Tearful last good bye
Swaying waves of golden prairie grass
Shifting desert dunes - an hour glass
An acorn dropping among forest leaves
To mighty oak - a lifetime of dreams
The changing moon - to full again
Each morn' the sun - new skies begin
Eagles soar high - our hearts go there
These ripples in time - we all share
©Donna Jones
There Will Never Be Enough Time
There will never be enough time to hear unique
music of nature's songs in its birds, its insects,
in songs of the wind, or the sounds of the sea.
Or how earth breathes and is alive through its
caves and caverns, through its crystal rocks in
bell tones that ring soothing sounds for the soul.
There will never be enough time to visit all the
wondrous places this glorious earth has to offer.
Nor enough time to read all the talented poetry
our new technology provides us with online and
in favorite poetry books of masters long dead.
Poems that so inspire and leave hearts on fire.
There will never be enough time to view all the
sights in glorious colors of sunrises and sunsets,
of twilight's shadows and intricate silhouettes.
Nor the light on the mountains in verdant display
as mist weaves its magic o'er splendorous pines.
Sights that inspire thrill and enthrall so profoundly
with the beauty of it all, as each day's a divine gift.
There will never be enough time to breathe in life's
blissful perfume in scents of many flowers in bloom,
in lilac's, gardenia's and the magnolia's sweet scents,
or in petrichor's heavenly aroma from rain's dalliance.
In scents from the seaside or the mountain's fresh air,
in Mother Nature's great gifts of her fragrance so fair.
There will never be enough time to behold your love
in the grace of God's minion in spiritual connection.
That feeling of oneness, that special spark from all life
as it spreads contentment and warmth over body's
decay in knowledge we will all realize birth once again;
that all feelings matter in our Karmically created laws.
Yet, there IS enough time to give thanks and rejoice for
every life is precious no matter of life's circumstances.
3-3-19
*Dedicated To Robert Lindley whose poetry inspired this poem.
the waning moonlight thinly enveloped
the dusky canvas obscurely sprawling
across the way from the window I looked,
I knew a park was there with slides and swing
but for the moment dark revealed nothing,
for the moment I didn’t care, either
because in darkness I felt even darker;
I was lying in bed embraced by regret
of decisions of love and time wasted,
spooning the layered sheets of doubt and fret
all thawed out from my heart into my head;
The memories of hurtful comments said
by and to me were chastising voices
of ghostly choices purposed to depress;
As dusk became the night I became lost
in whimsically strewn wishes and pleas
to gods and stars and genies alike, crossed
as eyes crying for mother drowned in seas,
I spoke to nobody but begged for keys
to unlock another time, another place
to start all over again with new space,
To unseen gods I had long since quit on
I prayed, bargained even, another chance
and I’d do everything right this season
- A jobless man needing a pay advance,
But for thirty three years nary a glance
had alpha or omega set on me
and this night I expected no divine decree;
several hours elapsed as I collapsed
in smoldering thoughts of suicide fanned,
- I had outlasted night’s concealing grasp,
and as the morning sun began its planned
ascent, I gave into Hades’ command
through my tenth floor window whispered to me
of hellish suggestions to jump and flee;
on ledge I stood and looked across the way
for one last glimpse of earth and pastel sky,
- a small souvenir of my final day,
My eyes settled on last night’s park from high
above, and that’s when I saw God’s reply,
- an unspoken answer for eyes turned blind,
His deafening promise to all mankind;
by his heavenly brushes came colors
where none had been, transforming lonely space
into one of vibrance and life renewed,
- and it was a different space,
I watched as birds celebrated morning
with songs of praise and thankfulness,
- and I felt a quick waning emptiness,
I heard the children below lining up
for the school bus all on time and ready
to live and learn in this new day granted,
- and I felt like I knew nothing at all;
but then I knew everything all at once,
and I stepped off the ledge ready to live,
ready to embrace
ready to seize life found…
in another time.
There is a time for poetry,
a time for petals as metaphors.
There is a time to sing,
a time for lovers to serenade.
There is a time for music,
a time for harmonic symphonies -
and there is a time for silence.
In the world today,
there is no need for hypocrisy,
nor lies from judgemental minds.
In confusing times,
crows grin, as clowns and jesters
fight for imaginary thrones.
It is not a time to kill your voice.
As wolves imitate shepherds,
now is the time for peace.
A time to reignite the muse,
a time to douse the fire,
a time to express, a time to speak,
a time to write, a time to sing,
a time to play, a time to rise!
It is a time to write,
a time to breathe,
before it is time to die.
Simple Musing
Silent One
16 December 2018
The heron is the color
of a November morning.
Fog wets the river rocks.
Fossils faintly echo
a grey past.
I shall take one stone
home,
to look
through its waterworn hole
and perhaps
see
the future.
11/4/2017
For contest: Two Word Challenge
Sponsored by John Lawless