Best Time Travel Poems
Who says I can’t go back in time
No, not the records on my shelf
Just flip a switch and there I am
A version of my younger self
I turn the beat around all night
In memories of Disco shoes
A fever boils inside my brain
Love for the night is mine to lose
Who says I can’t go back in time
No, not the clock that haunts my wall
The tick and tock now tock and tick
As I drift back and have a ball
As pages turn in rhythmic flow
The photos in my book agree
It’s just as though I’m really there
Another sip of wine for me!
-In-between Worlds-
Letting go of all the space in between
the reality
the cloud
A theme, that use to be
---Now dead
Long gone before I woke
Sadly Today's my birthday
So here I am singing a song
All ALone
Happy Birthday to myself
Love PD
A terrible storm in wait
Caught by a laughing flood
While his beard grows
Several laborious hours
For the animals a floating rescue
A journey to a new adventure
Take your time
Time measured, analyzed and split
17.03.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
(unrhymed couplets)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
At the moment
Of my restless teenage run
Your eyes emanated lights of million stars
Many times the size of our Sun.
Frenzy feeling for clinging to you, singularity.
But I was taken aback by sudden bars,
Though I could sense the gravity.
I should keep firing my rocket
Against all odds, unhoped for
Real fact was too much ferine to the prior.
I would eventually lose my goal:
That was my closest buddies'safest bet.
They described you as a black-hole,
They said, " she is not your girl."
They said, "For you, she is evil incarnate."
But, how could I ignore you,
Embodied in such amazing curve and curl?
So, before my eyes you appeared as an Event-horizon.
Yeah, it was you
My teenage beauty-paragon.
Beyond this nothing can escape
Not even light,
I kept travelling towards you,
The universe looked somewhere dim and somewhere bright.
But my clock slowed down
Now, I've to keep my feet on the ground
I feel like, a king without a crown.
To this nostalgic journey my consciousness's been bound.
For a black-hole
There's a whole universe to devour
But I'm absorbed in my amour.
I did
A time travel
A story of incompleteness to tell.
But no need
I've reached a brand-new universe!
I could never get
My first love, remains insatiate.
I've no regret, it cann't be a curse.
I can bend
Yet
The story is not end.
I'll not bore anyone with my reminiscence.
But, I've gathered a vast time travel experience.
Here I feel no delight, no pain,
I'm ready to fall in another love once again.
Yesterday is gone
soon today will pass as well
I'll travel with it
Time Travel
From conception, into birth,
from childhood, into youth,
from youth, into a young adult
is but a short journey on a long pier
A time for learning / A time for doing
Adults usually go on in blind flurry, doing.
Middle age meanders along that – shorter – pier,
looking into the waters, seeing life passing by,
catching glimpses of, reflections gaily dancing,
and reflecting upon the pier walk, thus far
A time to acquire / A time for losses
Wisdom in old age, it becomes a slow and painful walk,
- off what has become - in time’s passing – a short pier –
that has taken all seven – not to heaven – on a long, arduous
journey through rough seas – old age sees the essence of life,
time and space - yet throughout the journey, wonders ?,
what was it ?, what is it ?, that could be, have been his place.
B .J. “A” 2
November 25th 2004
For a time we all must go away,
like orphaned memories
whose only wish is to remain...
like wind chimes in a hurricane
we lose the scent
of song
of self
of flesh
seeking to find what we think
we want and wish for-
For a time we must all go our way,
running swift to glean the chain
to stroll from happy-saited-just to suckle pain:
lone lemming on the slippery edge,
for a time we all must go away-
Making trails like Saturn's rings
crossing minds with death's clear intent,
the opaque of pleasant things,
(brittle creatures in metal galaxies)
seeking what's inside our veins...
For a while, despite the truth of denial
like sandcastles in a driven rain
piece by piece or whole grain,
we all must go away.
but
we'll come back full(bloated) circle
after a thorough
panning of the vein
when the path back home
sings like a golden finch,
post-warm-hearted rain...
for a time, we all must go our way-
for Tracie and Linda
Jack was sitting poker faced
With bullets backed by bitches.
Neal hunched at the wheel
Puttin everyone in stitches.
He was braggin 'bout
This nurse he'd screwed,
While drivin through Nebraska.
Said that when she came,
She honked the horn,
And Neal just barely
Missed a truck
And then he asked her
If she'd like to cum like that
All the way to CalifornY?
See a redhead in a uniform
Will always make you horny.
With her hair net and her white
Shoes and a name tag and a hat,
She drove like Andy Granatelli
And knew how to fix a flat!
And Jack was at the bottom
Of his second 2020.
Neal was yellin out the window
Tryin to buy some beannies
From a Lincoln, full of Mexicans
Whose left rear tire blew
And the son's of bitches
Prit near ran us off the road!
Well the nurse had
Spilled the Manischewitz
All up and down her dress,
Then she lit the map on fire
And Neal just had to guess.
Should we try to find
A bootleg route
Or a fillin station open?
The nurse was dumping
Out her purse looking for a kiss.
Jack was out of cigarettes,
When we crossed the yellow line.
The gas pumps looked
Like tombstones from then on.
It felt lonelier than a parking lot
When the last car pulls away.
And the moonlight dressed
The double breasted foot hills
In the mirror, weaving out
A negligee and black brassiere.
The mercury was running hot
And we were almost out a gas,
Just then Florence Nightingale
Dropped her draws and stuck
Her fat ass out the window
To a Wilson Picket tune
And she shouted "get a load of this! "
And give the finger to the moon.
Counting one eyed jacks
And whistlin Dixie in the car,
Neal was doin least a hundred
When we saw a shootin star.
Florence wished that Neal
Would hold her 'stead of chewin his cigar.
Jack was noddin out and dreamin
That he was in a bar,
With Charlie Parker on the bandstand
And not a worry in the world,
And a glass of beer in one hand
And his arm around a girl.
And Neal was singin to the nurse
Underneath a Harken moon
And somehow you could tell
We'd be in CalifornY pretty soon.
Boundless, the possibilities for dreamers;
Interval visions for believers
freeing time of structured sand,
sifting through clock’s hands,
allowing
fanned
imaging’s
unfettering strands
to now literally expand
sieving pictures through dreamtime’s siever.
Boundless, the possibilities for dreamers.
© All Rights Reserved by Author
2/15/15
I’d name this form: Etheree Hourglass
Dare to walk through time
And through endless space
Through Eons of travel
At quantum light speed
Electrifying!
The cellular
Response it shifts
Relative to
Passing seconds.
Quantum time
Warping space
Eternal…
I’m one,
I’m all,
Life!
Get me inside quickly and as fast as you can,
please turn the time travel dial to September 1963
Get me to a post office in Washington, D.C.,
so I can send an important letter to Jacque Kennedy.
The letter will tell her about her newest son, Patrick,
ahead of time I will give her his four pound birth weight.
To prove I am ahead, and I know what I am talking about,
I will tell her about my time travel, and warn her of the fate
And that her husband, President John F. Kennedy
is in grave danger, warn her on November 23rd, 1963,
If she lets him go to Dallas and ride in an open limousine,
he will be assassinated at her knee.
Trip number two, will bring me to February 1968,
but I will stay in the same post office. Here is the thing.
I will write a detailed letter to Coretta Scott King,
warning her about the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King.
To prove that I am reliable I will tell her that January 30th,
1956 is the day a bomb
will go off on her porch, but it will not hurt anyone.
After a little sandwich, and a drink in a cold fountain,
I will now dial up August 14th, 1969, and head to the
Catskill Mountains,
It will be splendid to be the first to arrive,
At Woodstock, a day ahead of the crowd
of 400, 000, now I am feeling truly alive.
I will be civil, not puffed up or proud.
I will spend three glorious days enjoying the music here,
enjoying the hip-hugging bell-bottoms, dairy cows, staying clear
of the bra-less women and the minds that are a bit unclear.
My last trip is easy. I will return to two days ago, and from breakfast
re-do that entire day.
I was pretty mean to my husband,
and I would like to stop myself from acting that way.
There was a time,
long time ago
A different world
we used to know
As highway ribbons
cut through the night
Beneath the stars
clear diamond light
There was a promise
for us to borrow
We'd take the paths
to sweet tomorrow
The towns that graced
the winding roads
Alight with life,
Mainstreet's abodes
Whose gleams outshown
the crystal stars
In longtime past,
of youth, once ours
Neon colors
of signs so bright
A shining welcome
of joy filled light
How my young heart
wished to stay
But we drove quickly
on our way
Along a highway ribbon,
towns faded from
our sight
Truncated roads of promise
Driving onward
Through the night
Get off of our roads!
You're obsolete, an antique
Go back to Nineteen-fifty
You're blocking traffic!
What's that? Ha ha. You said that
-- You're a symbol of gridlock?
Image # 4
July 08, 2019
Fives and Sevens Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
This world is full of distance,
Full of ever-shifting minutes,
Hours, days, are lost to silence,
My own town is old and faceless.
How to live, with such expanses?
I’ll save your laugh, preserve your essence,
Bridge the gap and share your presence.
This heart must live on patience.
A thin trail of smoke rises from his discarded pipe. A stark shadow falls from his hat brim, as he leans into the beam of light. He clasps his hands together and rests them on the desk top. From behind him you hear the creak of leather shoes, as the wearer shifts his unseen bulk. You imagine what you cannot see under that brim. Piercing, merciless eyes, focussed on you. They measure you, calculating. Wooden groans echo as the stateroom moves with the tide. The hand on your shoulder attempts a reassuring squeeze. Then the Captain clears his throat…
“But the fact remains
time travel limits opportunity.
How?
I hear you ask.
Let us say
the birds sing
and the sun shines,
and your true love
holds your hand.
Well you’d alter time
if you possibly could,
to keep this
cherished love grand.
But you just
may well
put at risk
Destiny’s master plan.
For when this love
did end
you’d earn your reward,
a prize so dear
and sweet.
The understanding
and consuming passion
of a brilliant flame,
who now, you’ll
never meet.”