Long Tempus Poems
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TEMPUS FUGIT
I seemed to be going through a change,
Maybe the male menopause.
Or perhaps a mid-life crisis,
But I had fun whatever the cause.
I purchased a Harley Davidson
To roar about the place
And I rescued my flares from the wardrobe
That I’d held on to, just in case
With a cowboy shirt and a shoe-lace tie,
I reckoned I looked pretty cool.
But my wife said they weren’t back in fashion
And I simply looked an old fool
I dug out my vinyl collection,
Mostly Bill Hayley and Elvis,
And tried to relive the days of my youth
On the dance floor, rotating my pelvis.
But, last week, I fell off the Harley,
Performing a series of dares
And it caused great amusement in A & E
When the nurse had to cut off my flares.
So now it’s out of my system,
I’ve reverted to acting my age.
As I sit with my pipe and slippers,
Dressed head-to-toe in beige
Elvis has gone back in the loft
And I have to say he’s not missed.
For now, for relaxation,
I listen to Mozart and Liszt.
5th February 2022
Latin Lessons poetry contest
Sponsor - Margarita Lillico
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
Dearest Amelie Beth Harris-Mcgeehan
If royalty moost likely
spotlight ye would dodge
nonetheless anointed, deemed, granted...
within humble abode
of your lodge
most righteous, magnanimous, gracious...
among confrère noblesse oblige.
Methinks twas foolhardy of me
when joost a mere young man
(more'n half agoo me lifespan)
ye always acknowledging me birthdate,
(although tomorrow a day early,
and dollar long)
regarding thirteenth of Jan.
Your sisterly affection doth buoy
inside mine heart and soul
first born of three offspring
begat courtesy Boyce
and Harriet Harris handed lead role
par exemplar to officiate (figuratively)
filial obeisance, particularly
when older analogous to foal
abiding maternal horse sense, thus I extol.
As your brother, rhetorical question I ask
how often did thee deserve to bask
within metaphorical sunshine to exceed
regarding care and concern emotional task
tenderly "mothering" kith and kin,
ye divinely didst shew,
especially yours truly
now he dost rue
he rarely did communicate -
hermetically within his
hermetically sealed queue
detached, isolated, outsourced,
I may as well lived in Peru
(think Machu Picchu)
courtesy schizoid personality disorder
leavened, prepared, and sprinkled with
obsessive compulsiveness
for good measure ooh
and aah barely registered
consciousness, and knew
not what blessedness constituted hew
as tremendous precious jewel few
chore birthdays promise with clear clue
how ye go above and beyond
call of sisterly duty aware remaining life
(mine) would be far inadequate to accrue
equitable devotional, emotional,
and financial recompense.
Hence feeble attempt
to distill some essence
with words that appear
incomprehensible and dense,
cuz writing more comfortable
verses talking, which
often jabbering (more like a wookie)
(think fictional hirsute humanoids
in Star Wars universe)
often makes no cents.
Tempus fugit fleets at light speed
quasi immortality conferred as generations rebreed
all the while unwittingly transmitting indeed
idiosyncrasies, mutations, quarks... such as greed
myopia, selfishness... at death sorrow doth bleed.
Poetry knows no age, as thee Marcia
Abramsohn (the former ex lady friend
of my late father corresponded with me
some years back)
wrote (by hand nonetheless,
a long lost art) inlaid with ambidextrous
zealousness impossible to identify,
which hand crafted artistically colorful
epigrammatic ghostly hint emblematic
of former exuberance toward English
Language..., perhaps other once
vibrantly familiar tongues wagging
less as tempus fugit slithers unseen
stealing most cherished, prized, savored...
commodity set to countdown immediately
post parturition, yet blessed for thee
to be gifted your then four score plus four
amazingly graceful journeys celebrating
your existence replete with handmaid's
tales chronicling quotidian trials and
tribulations, yet still adept, buoyant,
cogent, diligent, eloquent, fervent,
gallant, hellbent, intent, jimmying,
kindling, loving, mustering, nursing,
outlasting...Methuselah (ha...if only)
lucid moments nudging awake
memorialized occasions, where once
upon a time (seems bajillion years ago)
innocence concomitant with naivete
throve, wherein unfettered dalliances
found untrammeled lasses and lads
absorbed with natural unbridled virgin
love – gathering rosebuds while they may
whispering sweet nothings strictly
for respective paramour, (this of course
hearsay and speculation) promising each
other moon and stars ah...dusty fading
memories, yours truly can never recount,
(cuz mental illness co-opted, hijacked,
up-ended...adolescent maturation,
whereby agonizing crippling forfeiture jabs
silhouetted illusory oasis peopled with
all the golden opportunities left to wither
on the vine o'mine youth, which mirage
mocks escapist attempt into literary realm
invisible dead poets society regale an
existence bereft nope, no App could
ever even virtually duplicate (even
approximate) sidelined unrequited love,
and no this marriage yielded scanty
satisfaction, which fantasy life as
Norwegian bachelor farmer
(within mine imagination) solved,
where living off the grid remedied
forever being pennilessness, day late
dollar short dime a dozen dirt poor
dude dulling dufus...that's the news from
my Lake Woebegone...where all the
women...and children above the law
never get reprimanded.
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.
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)
early this year
gentle as calm ocean waters
lapping along a weir
thumb and fore finger
of right hand would peal back,
(via diagonally flippant motion
asper calendar
representing progression of time)
gets flipped over to veer
in one direction (linear)
revealing the next month at lightspeed
vis a vis tempus fugit galloping tear
thy head immediately lost hirsute thickness,
i starkly share
male or female pattern baldness
extant along
Harris genealogical trunk line rare
yet divulging distress
about limp decreasing strands
sends shivers along spine,
gloomy feeling linkedin
with old fashioned meaning of *****
and perchance tis foolhardy
reeding this Samson night issue must ap pear
tis unstoppable inching closer toward
as mortality gets near
youthful robustness fades
replaced by senescence mere
really ambling along tragicomic stream,
one evinces gargoyles mockingly leer
loosing sleep and kept raggedly awake
in conjunction dreams fraught
with frightful haunting monsters jeer
ring sound reverberating hair
splitting decibel jamming primary cranial gear
aye tell mice elf nothing to fear...
yet maximizing this plight with poem 'ere
Yukon also temporarily part
blond, brown, gold, et cetera locks mud dear.
Form:
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.
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.
(A holy man speaks in Latin)
Cito est illud tempus quo nemo non potest amplius currere et abscondere
Nullae altae cuniculis aut altis muris te servabunt
Deus enim venit in lucem, quam semel dedit
Nocentius verum pudoris ambulationem cognoscet
Cum concentu detestabili clamores intentionum
Ubi quisque bene servatum nomen suum clamat
Nunc sanguine et dolore ablue
Iustitia et poena soli erunt clamoribus qui implent aerem
Animae vulneratae in ignominiam plangunt
Hoc multoties ante factum est
Et iterum hanc gloriosam ianuam tenebo
Omnes nocentes grave pretium solvet
Iis qui nummum aureum accipiunt in quacunque forma nova
Munus vel quidlibet aliud, quod alios mittunt ad immolandum
Corrupti acolythi aliquid tam vetus
Quod non potest esse nisi unum judicium, quod semper praedictum est
Omnes tristes animae, quae libenter AnitiChristo servire voluerunt
Sub gladio Christi merentur poni
Copyright John Duffy
Translation
That time is soon coming when no one can no longer run and hide
No deep tunnels or high walls will save you
For God is coming for a light he once gave you
The guilty shall know the true walk of shame
With a symphony of hateful cries of intent
Where everyone shouts out their once well-kept name
Now awash with blood and pain
Justice and punishment will be the only screams that fill the air
As their wounded souls lament in shame
This has happened many times before
And once more I'll hold open this glorious door
All the guilty will pay a heavy price
For those who take a golden coin in whatever new form
A bribe or anything else as they send others out to be sacrificed
Corrupted acolytes of something so old
That there can only be one judgement as it's always been foretold
That all those sad souls who willingly chose to serve The AnitiChrist
Deserve to be put under the sharp sword of Christ
Copyright John Duffy