Long Fugit Poems
Long Fugit Poems. Below are the most popular long Fugit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fugit poems by poem length and keyword.
My oh my, how time doth flee!
Seems only yesterday I was at my Mother's knee.
So much water has trickled over the weirs,
Now, here I am well advanced in years!
Off to school for a proper education,
Teachers filling my skull for my edification.
Some of the stuff actually rubbed off on me,
And shockingly I obtained a college degree!
A job I must get my folks did insist,
So off to the Air Force I went to enlist.
I thought, this ain't a bad career to pursue,
So for thirty years I wore the Air Force suit of blue!
I married and have a very sweet wife,
That's an experience that'll change your life!
Along came kids to make the family complete.
Being a husband and father is really neat!
Becoming a grandpa left me amazed,
But when a great grandpa, I was really dazed!
Too bad there is no way time to postpone.
I look back and wonder where time has gone!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Time and again
jovial imp does succeed
at collecting aggregate of infinite moments
nabbing, snagging and yoking yours truly,
a fortitudinous erstwhile
citizen banker travels at warp speed
impossible mission to thwart tempus fugit
analogous to ambuscade by time thief
little rascal who steals
most precious commodity
right before mine myopic eyes
abstract artificial construct
hastens cradle to grave lifespan
hoping chance fellow
space traveler will read
these words, though quite futile
one skeptic could believe
he would experience salvation
prayerfully clasping hands
he doth gently plead
for nought, cuz greed
for immortality a wish
that does exede
by lightyears the outward bounds
for *****sapien breed
damned to die at birth
destroyed by space debris
aliens purportedly buzzfeed
feeling akin to crash test dummy
at mercy where asteroid
can annihilate me I accede.
Seconds, minutes, hours
days, weeks, months
and years speed away
free falling thru space/time continuum
superfluous to request belay,
nevertheless yours asks
for custom made sturdy rope
quite an accomplishment
given such short notice,
which said contrivance
would necessitate being wrapped
(while remaining rapt)
ensconced within outsize
full body jacket beltway
resembling human cocoon
after I pulled up the slack
essentially gifted to dark shadows
twenty four seven -
resembling edge of night
all the while
loosely tethered courtesy gravity
though feeling comfortably numb
zipping by the dark side of the moon
dreaming about Old rotten Gotham
sliding thru behavioral sink,
this while yahoo (me)
courtesy tenuous connection
suddenly severed Earthlink
simultaneously mouthing "Aw, Snap!"
No longer linkedin
with webbed wide world
bitta bing bitta bang
voodoo spell suddenly cast upon
uber hotmail, whereby
his poetic side tumblr unlocked
subsequently he resembles
an infinitesimal across
celestial sea ethereal
poetrysoup amidst creation,
a mere cosmic speck afloat
canvas studded heavens
starry night gallery.
While in my youth
I racked my brain
to fill up Time
Taken aback
By Time’s fast pace
Once in my prime
Dismissive still
that Time ticks on
indeed clockwise
Not feeling yet
that treasured Time
so fleeting flies
Of trite excuse
« for lack of Time »
I had no fears
Time’s metronome
hounds hastily
in golden years
Wisdom whispers
that Time is up
beyond a doubt
Implacably
relentlessly
Time’s running out
My train of thought
of Time that strikes
its closing chime -
A wistful wish
that I could buy
a tick more Time
April 24, 2021
Contest: T contest Time
Sponsor: Constance La France
another Bukowski nightmare begins
the castrato sings below
while she calls from the minaret
fossicking thru the memories
for our linked verse
while i, sitting beneath the coolabah
river on the run
waiting for some rabbit or Alice
oh incorrigible moon
have you no mercy this night
see the parade pass, the ithyphallic
the trilithon collapsing, time and gravity
another turgid, erubescent symbol deflated
another thought buried by time
and mine to waste
o moon so incorrigible
teach me not emotion
let me revel in callosity
let the mirror play tu quoque
let it speak for once
scream from the inner scotopia
where the predatism scutters
read to me another confessional poet
those in need
of yet another minie ball, open oven door
fill the pockets with rocks and rockets
o god more, more misery
rise and hail your innermost misery
you must suffer for literature
tempus fugit is a lead pipe cinch
that is the diphthong the calliope
never fails to sail thru
while surds and sonants bounce the walls
the coffee shop lustrum, ideomotion
learn to unlearn
supine beneath the coolabah
river on the run
waiting for a rabbit or Alice
the urge for frottage
pushes us beyond logic and reason
suffering polyphagia between the limbs
where the eyes drool in
bushes of void commandments
now postmodernism
and i are even
i refuse to die for this revolution
i refuse the pitiful pitfalls
life's a grand adventure
taking in ever larger measures
i refuse to fail its call
i refuse
i refuse
hand me that bottle of rum
let's think about this
Fergus Falls 97
A hint of helping this wholesome Harris son
can across thru the air
Hence this poetic expression
of gratitude Matthew Scott wants to blare
And communicate my genuine
appreciation crystal clear
Toward one whose existence
more valuable to me and dear
As thee doth become older
with natural diminishment with eyes and ear
But lo…tis unproductive to fear
The diminishing sands
of mortal time as cognitive gear
Doth get clogged as well as one
or the other organ allowing ye to hear
The sound of silence echoing
memories of the past – now a blur
Akin to a warm fuzzy feeling
soft as moss or lichen – precious as a coat of fur
Which tomorrows speed faster
becoming yesterday’s lore
Mixed with trials and tribulations less or more
Thickening as starch and ever more difficult to pour
From the egged on noggin blended
into one glob kept in secret store
Perhaps comprising partially healed wounds
at your heart tore
As if a drafted soldier once
in tiptop shape now to the bone years wore
Away whet dreams housed
within myths indistinguishable from truths of yore
Though I too sometimes fret
as tempus fugit slinks away
Where methinks how the years spin
at a quicker pace each day
Inculcating me to savor each moment,
whether weather sunny or gray
Taking stock of self of natural world
as one named John Jay
Audubon, who captured pristine lands
of America as a frieze zing May
Whereby bounteous creatures
large and small at play
Until…the inundation
of settlers did slash, burn and slay
Indiscriminately - setting precedent
for Earth in a precarious balance oye vay
Whence Mother Nature
will win this global Olympic match – yet
By which time, both thyself
and ye will be long turned to ash
Descendants will be dust off
faded photos of me self
before senescence did dash
Totally unaware that me papa Boyce Brandon
with clenched and teeth did gnash
When I fought tooth and nail
and without a word did lash
Back as protestations against behavior
of mine ye disliked and found rash
With frustration spilling forth
like acidic froth that did splash
Slash and burn within,
yet kept mum no matter
from within did thrash.
I LOVE YOU TOO DAD
NO MATTER BACK IN THE DAY YE GOT MAD
YET NOW, AS A FATHER TWAS FRUSTRATION
PERHAPS FUSED WITH BEING SAD
AT MY LIFE & HARD TIMES WHEREIN
TURMOIL ROILED MORE THAN A TAD!
Undeva departe
Emo?iile ?i-au facut adapost
Afara ploua ?i e frig..
Ele, tremura, sperând la un anotimp mai bun
Înainte de pisc, au fost îndrumate de un calugar
El le-a urnit din loc ?i le-a dat direc?ia spre Vârful Exprimarii
Dar când au ajuns acolo, le-a parasit cum s-a înnoptat
Iar ele înca se întreaba daca e pentru ca a ajuns sa le cunoasca
Tremurând, î?i spun pove?tile lor personale
De la întâmplari fericite ?i pâna la trairi terifiante
?i în tot acest timp afara e bezna
Iar ploaia devine zapada
Diminea?a vine cu o întrebare:
"Ramânem pe Vârful Exprimarii sau coborâm în Valea Reprimarii?"
Acolo în vale este cald ?i tihna.
Nu e nicio durere, dar ?i nicio placere.
Oare cum e mai bine?
Aici sau acolo? Acum sau mai încolo?
Oare mai au o cale? O cale ?esuta din pove?tile pe care tocmai ?i le-au spus?
Dupa ce au fugit de Valea Reprimarii ?i au suferit pe Vârful Exprimarii, care e calea catre Marele Echilibru Interior?
Upon reflecting with misty eyes
childhood days of yore
the mantle of anticipatory
excitement mantle I wore
upon advent of December
twenty fifth not quite threescore
years ago knew nothing
about being dirt poor
yours truly doggedly felt sense
of belonging among k9 korp
versus moody blues hangdog
look resembling Eeyore.
Now fast forward envisioning
gray bewhiskered scraggly
muttering old Unitarian
that would be yours truly courtesy
hyperbole as would be obvious
upon quick visual scan,
who dabbles writing
at least one poem within
twenty four hour
time frame i.e. quotidian
basis, eh not
so much an outdoorsman
these days and definitely not,
nor ever trumpeted
taps as militiaman
within the ranks of Kublai Khan
emperor of China, and
grandson of Genghis Khan
I remain holed up within
one bedroom apartment
unit b44 as iceman,
no, not by choice,
but series of unfortunate events
primarily faulty heater
at the mercy of fate,
a mere dice toss gameplan
always associated as separate
among establishmentarian
forever dreamily fancying
married to countrywoman,
combination platter academician.
Lo and behold days
mein kampf slipped and slid away
leaving faded memories
precious young lad oft times
felt alienated (think) castaway
yet simultaneously unable to flyaway
loosing self from mother's apron strings,
while slipping grip signals foray
into abyss conjured courtesy
thru information superhighway.
Reflection upon tempus fugit
incredulous kick **** lightspeed
precocious age sentimental reverie storybook
happy go lucky idyllic past indeed,
then bound by ignorance,
hence blissfulness no longer doth proceed.
When the stars blaze a halo rim
around the noon-day sun
it is time, time for a swim.
The street lights have gone to the gym.
Mr. Harry Tomdick chose the street
and brought tick tocks for each heat.
I wore my frilly pajamas
but we forgot the gloves for our feet.
We smelled the butterflies' joke
about those young day crawlers
who had no small heat soak
from dog-paddling in the smoke.
The stars are now falling on the midway
Traffic lights blink pink and blue - Swim On -
while sparks of ice drop from the sun's ray.
Tempus fugit - forever and a day.
September 7, 2021
Sponsor charles messina
Contest Name Nonsense Rhyme
Like the final stanza of a villanelle, this tomfoolery uses the opposite rhyme scheme of a rubaiyat - BABB.
English onomatopoeic words tick tock does punctuate...
audiological "second" associated with ordinary soundlessness
Second of time not decided arbitrarily, but...
Under International System of Units,
the second currently defined as
duration of 9,192,631,770 periods
of radiation corresponding to transition
between two hyperfine
levels of ground
state of caesium-133
atom at temperature
of 0 degrees Kelvin.
Even if deaf and/or
blind Impossible Mission
to escape incessant
atomic elementary coalition
my dear Watson,
through rigorous erudition
pursuant, predicated,
postulated, plotted, pinpointed...,
whereby basic interval
of time engineered fruition
jarring inquisitiveness regarding
yours truly intuition
one body moving thru space
and time till manumision.
Upon mortality liberation comprising me
molecular constituent parts will thus free
repurposing (reincarnation higglety pigglety)
without preserving jammed consciousness, ye
might beg to differ,
yet that precept re:
guarding retaining awareness
previous life thee
less prominent poetic
intent to squander ably
(slight bias, I aver)
precious minutes agree
gated intuiting the
invisibility of ethereal me:
deem (or quantification
thereof) measuring je
nais sais quois (extent
of French words known
to yours truly), whose
lofty ambition key
ying focus, how
every moment allocated
into base unit to run
of the mill by the floss see
George Eliot (Mary
Ann Evans) garden variety,
generic *****sapien,
(no matter differentiation sets E
shove us apart).
Inescapable maddening
march to maximize
potential choice to exercise
fulfillment, or nurse regret
case in point I surmise
extensive disappointment,
though Matthew Scott tries
to separate the figurative
wheat from the chaff and vies
to distill some semblance
of value, cuz he doth realize,
how tempus fugit defies
longing to go back
to the future as he espies
countless reasons that qualifies
as his life left unlived no surprise
since aforementioned sentiment
mentioned, in tandem with
self destructive behavior I despise.
The Metaphor of Time
Time’s metaphor reflects the essence of a constant
and continuous progression into an endless cosmic
void of infinity itself, far beyond mankind’s world
of a defined, finite reality and expectation.
The concept of eternity in this finite construct begs, at
once, much more than a sense of realistic credulity and
understanding. It considers cosmic aspects which often
transcend any earthly notions of a Prufrockian sense of
a melancholic desire that oft pervade the greater human
endeavor.
Eternity is more than any mere snapshot of ongoing and
and progressive actions, and any projected events frozen
in a defined and finite prism of time.
What about immediate actions like:
a rustling of trees and leaves in the wind,
the sounds of human voices near and far away,
the sounds of birds chirping loudly and softly,
the birthing sounds of baby animals in the forest.
Do we just observe and witness such events passively?
-or-
Do we listen for the progression of sounds and cries?
-or-
Do we just sit in moments of observed silence?
-or-
Does it matter in the end at all?
Indeed, there is much to think about in our world of this
finite reality.
This is perhaps why the notion of an endless infinity appeals
to and captivates the finite world of human beings, where the
notions of both cosmic fate and destiny, in an ethereal sense,
play a compelling role worthy of significant interest and a
continuous pursuit of awareness and enlightenment.
Only time will tell! Only Almighty God knows for sure!
Tempus fugit . . . for a good reason!
Tempus omnia revelat . . . always in the end!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
November 10, 2018 (Free Verse)