Long Lost track of time Poems
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My old home town, 12 years old and playing in the hay
preparing feed as I waited for sunrise, that fateful day
The suns warm rays broke the dark crispness of my world
Just as if windblown leafs, the rays of light began to whorl
It nudged life, to wake from sleep, on this November day
Then painted my world in colors, instead of moonlit gray
Thankful to see the sun, tend animals, I didn’t disobey
I cleaned up, caught the bus, to learn at school this day
A simple, wonderful life, in a world that's about to change
As we listened, we learned our ideas aren't so strange
My teacher's and classes are great but, I must confess
we'd see movies, even watch TV, but not to an excess
After lunch I had history, maybe he had a movie to see
But, in class he looked sad as I heard the intercom key
"Our President has been shot, teachers turn on your TV"
As we watched tears flowed, it wasn't a movie we'd see
Learning of fear, uncertainty, hope and prayer I bereave
That life is like a roller coaster, on this day, as we grieve
My world and life changed this day, seeing life so brutal
Was it pointless to live free, an effort seemingly so futile?
I struggled with this many years, then in 1969, I choose
It's better to die free, than live in fear of what you oppose
A fragment of my life.
Started writing this for Broken Wings contest
but, I lost track of time
I cry myself to sleep at night
Unfortunately, not everything is black and white
Oh, how my soul aches from the cold
Oh, your wings of flight are so bold
I wake up for the millionth time...
Wrapped up in your blankets of benevolence
Wrapped up in your lullabies of evanescence
I relax in your blanket of...
Benevolence that I've been dreaming of...
I've dreamt a dream of my long lost love
It was many years ago...now, I'm a lonely glove
I've been trekking down Sorrow Town
I tread in dread upon the Earth with a frown
And you got me caught up in the strife,
Giving me hell in this corrupted life
But, there's goodness and hope beneath the rubble
I lost track of time, so let's get warm and cuddle
Away from harm's way...
Away from harm's way...
Come here and stay...
Don't stray away...or get led astray...
I will move you with my sway...
And keep you nice and cozy
In the blankets of benevolence...
You are engulfed in my remembrance...
Forevermore,
The one that I adore
The river is deep.
The river is wide.
I burned every bridge.
I’m stuck on this side.
I stand on the shore.
I’m looking across
At all that I’ve left
And all those I lost.
The river’s too fast
To wade or to swim.
And night’s coming on,
The light’s getting dim.
Cannot find a boat
To row or to sail.
I’m stuck where I am,
A self-imposed jail.
I’ve lost track of time…
How long I’ve been here.
Has it been but days
Or how many years?
Each moment’s the same,
On endless repeat.
I cannot move on.
I cannot retreat.
The river cares not,
Just endlessly flows.
Its start and its end?
Well, nobody knows.
So, here I just sit,
Impatiently wait,
And wish I had known
But, now it’s too late.
I feel tired and lost
I can not find my way.
I have lost track of time,
And the date and day.
Even the simplest chores,
Are hard to complete,
My poor back is aching,
And so are both my feet.
My eyes are dim,
It's a strain to see,
Anything,
In front of me.
I have a cough,
I can not breathe,
I've had enough,
I'm on my knees.
I want to get up,
So I can sit down,
Instead of a smile,
I wear a frown.
I cannot hear,
Unless you shout,
All my teeth,
Have fallen out.
My arthritis
Causes pain,
My life is going
Down the drain.
My bladder and bowel,
Are all at sea,
Incontinence,
It's misery.
With stomach swollen
Full with gas.
I am a very,
Sickly Lass.
Lass maybe years ago,
This face and figure,
I do not,
Know.
My youth has left.
Closed the door,
I've never felt this,
Old before.
I started to write
A happy song,
Somehow my write
Is wrong,
If by chance
You take a peek
I want you to know
That I wrote it,
Tongue in cheek.
Lies told to deceive your soul
let dying dreams drown in tears.
And you fall into a hole;
that deepens over the years.
Squandering away your youth;
you somehow lost track of time.
And realizing the truth
hastens anxiety's climb.
Lured by flattery's sweet sway;
you cling to dreams to survive.
And secret your hurt away,
hoping to keep love alive.
Denial won't let you see
past his lies the way you should.
And fuels the fantasy;
he is just misunderstood.
Seeking solace in the dark,
hope dims, flashes of real.
And although tears leave their mark,
a smile masks the pain you feel.
Drifting Thoughts
Today I fed a duck.
He dined alone,
gluten free diet,
no bread for him.
Watched a squirrel
bury an acorn
only to have it stolen
by a stalker from
another tree.
At the pond
the Osprey
caught more fish than I did.
Offered my SPF 50 lotion
to the sunbathing turtles.
Laughed out loud
alone, kayak drifting,
on the whims of
rippling winds.
Got stuck in traffic
amid the impatient honking
of the Geese.
Quietly applauded
the artistic posing
of the Swans.
Played the shape game
with passing clouds.
Lost track of time
and time
lost track of me.
John G. Lawless
8/8/2016
No, I wasn't taken away by a giant storm to The Land of Oz, but it was a place of quiet and open spaces filled with Southern hospitalities. I did not meet a good witch nor the wicked witch of the East, nor did Toto have to inform me that there is no wizard to magically get me back home, but I did think of clapping my heels together as I was reminded that there is no place like home nor a church like New Life. Yes, I often lost track of time, but I easily got back on track as it grew near to the time to go home. As I worshiped The Lord at New Life yesterday, my soul rejoiced, but the cry of my heart remained for those in the land of ritual and tradition. Indeed, there is no place like home.
Without the assistance of make-believe, science, or a time tunnel, I went back in time. I flew some 2000 miles away and landed within a hundred miles of my birthplace, but this mission was not about me or my place of origin, but the dreams, hopes, and honor of others. God has blessed us with space and time and has given us the choice to proceed or to stand still. For all intents and purposes, space remains unchanged and unmoved, but time never stands still.
As I beheld people who had gone forward and those who stood still, I experienced both joy and sadness. On the one hand, this land of catfish and cotton is a laboratory of people making adjustments and learning to get along. On the other hand, it's a place where time stands still. The politics and social structures have changed, but the people of faith seemed frozen and immovable. I think my journey and first-hand impression can best be described by the experience I recorded one Sunday morning which stood in remarkably contrasting tones from those to which my soul has grown accustomed at my own New Life Church.120919PoSoup;*See Part 2
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We had this little open outdoor space at our cabin…and every time we walked by it…
We tried to think of different ways…that we could beautify it.
Then the other day as we stood on our porch the two us became aware
of a ton of stones in another part of the yard no longer needed there
The idea blossomed to take those stones from their resting place
and move them in an artful way to fill that open space.
There was a minor problem…one I quickly came to understand…
the only way to get those stone from one place to the other…was to move them all by hand.
My hands to be exact…and in order to be able to make the little climb
I discovered I could only move 1- 5 stones at at time.
But that seemed a small price to pay…although the journey would be hard
to beautify that spot…to bring some artwork to the yard.
So I would lug 1- 5 stones at a time…and place them…with Deborah as my mentor…
(It was her wonderful idea to create a peace sign in the center).
For a couple hours (maybe more…I lost track of time)…my body tired…
but my fortitude never ceased
and when we were all finished we had a beautiful symbol of peace.
And I thought while I was grunting, groaning and sweating…
as the birds and squirrels around me whispered to each other and smirked…
how making peace from a ton of stones by hand…is a lot of work.
And I was reminded of something people have learned…in every country…in every land…
how making peace around the world…is a lot like moving a ton of stones by hand.
How you have to move one stone at a time…turn one enemy into one friend
and how peace, though never easy…is worth it in the end.
But in this country and the world rather than using our hands build peace with our stones…
we throw them at one another instead….
and in the end we destroy buildings, hospitals, churches, families…leaving many people dead.
I wish there was a way to stop the source(s) from where all our stone-throwing stems…
because I fear if we can’t find a way to build peace with our stones…
we’ll end up buried under them
Just as his marbles ran beneath bed, he lost track of time, when he
Advanced to find them; but spied shoe box with Grandma's grands
Her hands had labelled names to each stash; he claimed his stock and went to shop
Money was plentiful; grams good business sense in Harlem procured pure wealth
And Jahmal soon had friends galore; he would pay for early withdrawal of inheritance
Love was not around when uncle was summoned, he drove the boy to remote spot.
Black was not beautiful that day. Uncle and his friend were brutal boxers, then
Right amidst summer crowd, he was let out to run home cupping nakedness in shame
If welts and bruised psyche gave remorse to Grandma, boarding school was gift
Gone was innocence touched by pain as he flexed, stood to blame and shame
Hung his head in humility, then hang on to life and what was left of scarred self
To know him is to love him... now he's sensitive Social Worker.
*
Shadow Play Adult
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Just two shadows on the wall,
I watch as we rise and fall
each movement so divine
we have lost track of time.
Like puppets playing on a string,
we fool around, dance, and sing
two shadows playing past sunset
and still, we have no regret.
Two pair of lips embrace,
we must have a little taste
two bodies meshing into one
forever having playful fun.
We are in abstract poses,
twisting like wild roses
you fill my inner being
my breath has left me fleeting.
I gasp as the shadows fall,
slipping..sliding down the wall
layed adjacent to the floor
the sun rises, and shadows..we are no more.
8/16/14- Jessica Thompson