TIME
Precise and constant it marches on.
It waits for no one, yet will stop to heal a broken heart.
Measured in thousandths of a second by swimmers
And in millenniums by the Creator of All Time.
They say it’s money—but it doesn’t make sense
That last weekend can seem so long ago
Yet each day went by so quickly.
It’s fast as lightening and slow as molasses.
Two can stand side by side and it flies for one and crawls for the other.
A friend to the child who anxiously awaits the school bell at the end of day.
An enemy to the lover who waits for the 10:35 to take her soldier to a far away land.
It means everything to the watchmaker
And nothing to the boy fishing on the riverbank.
It’s “Time On My Hands” and “Time In A Bottle”
And if you drop the e and add an i-n-g, it’s Rotten - and it’s Perfect.
And twice a year it laughs at those of us who
Spring forward -- and then Fall back
Thinking that we can change it.
Mariruth Pyatt
If you think the right thoughts,
the love just
keeps growing,
big, full moon love,
that place where
it's all a balancing act,
perched on a tightrope,
the threshold of reality.
Imagine the lunar eclipse
a pathway
into the most beautiful forest,
where a winter wind roars
with a new song,
carrying the pine needles
into the air,
just for the sake of creating a miracle today,
never explaining what
the earth's destiny is,
or even
taking a guess at what's coming,
just sinking slow as molasses
into a clandestine meeting
with the biggest full moon ever,
and allowing it to sing to us.
This is start of my poem that over 8,000 other poets
have read.
Be A Better Putter
Was with naughty iron that is a nine,
Which some say has become benign,
That balls seemed slow as molasses;
Did need to take a few more classes.
She's slow as molasses,
And really a pain.
Let her stay home forever!
We have nothing to gain.
Taking a walker down the
stairs?
Is really something, we just
can no longer bear!
Worse is her hearing, deaf
as a door nail!
She won't be able to even
read the menu.
She can watch TV until she
dies.
Or a nice nursing home?
She would be so surprised.
It would be easier on all of us,
don't you see?
After all, she's very close to
eternity!
7/3/2021
It is true that daylight robs,
it pushes us into sights
that we come to question;
such as the python that lay
like a thick ship’s hawser
in the road, and would not
move for my jeep.
In the blinding dark of night
15 wheelers rumble through here,
the snake would be crushed in minutes,
pushed through its skin like a sausage,
but in the hot empty afternoon
heavy traffic growls somewhere else
bypassing eyes and ears
and the python,
its muscular rib cage moving
as slow as molasses
nudges the day sideways
as my engine idles.
Be A Better Putter
Be A Better Putter
Was with naughty iron that is a nine,
Which some say has become benign;
Balls seem to be slow as molasses;
Do need to take many more classes.
From golf course she would be cut;
Played never learning how to putt,
And you should see her terrible scar,
Received for not ever making par.
Received setback and major mishap,
When ball would end up in sand trap,
And occurred a complete catastrophe;
Drove ball hard from tee into a tree.
To avoid all of the trash and clutter,
She then tried to buy a better putter;
Terrible putts did drive us all insane;
On course brain and golf bag remain.
Jim Horn
The look of diamonds.
Were caught by the candlelight.
Dove-colored clouds passed overhead.
As a summer storm came riding in.
On a cold wind ~ soft rolling seas.
Colors from the sun had all but disappeared.
Into the night of glistening starlight.
Summer days were drifting on by.
As slow as molasses.
You might even say.
As the diamonds rolled down.
Oct 2, 2015
You are sweeter than honey
As fluffy as cotton
But, can be slow as molasses
Love like diamonds
Touch as delicate as a flower
Mind so inspiring
Talks with the quickness
Anger like the steam of an engine
Hugs so warm to the touch
Kisses as sweet as sugar
Compliments so smooth
Opinionated, yes you are
You are my teddy bear!
Golf Putter That Did Sputter
Have naughty eight iron and a nine
That are starting to become benign;
My small balls were slow as molasses;
Did decide to take a couple of classes.
From whole, entire course soon got cut
Because I never learned how to putt,
And should have seen the horrible scar
When they beat me for not making par.
Then golf game suffered a major mishap
Balls ended up being in smooth sand trap;
Was an incredible, complete catastrophe
Had hit ball hard from tee into a tree.
Wanted to replace old one which did sputter,
But I never could find another better putter;
On course, well-cared dead corpse remains;
All those terrible drives drove them insane.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
River Sea Plantation
Bolivia, NC
After Midnight Musings - impromptu
cleverly staged
the way you are
slinking in your
trinket-ed skin
oozing pure milk
and manuka honey.
cleverly staged
the way you are
slow as molasses
a flaming lick of
hot lava, the
epitome of life's
thirst-
life's thirst for
a mere droplet
to be overcome
by your
charming ways
the way you are
cleverly staged.
hampered by deep snow
progress slow as molasses
in January
------------------------------
wild and howling wind
opens the portal wide to
the reign of the wolf
-------------------------------
21st May 2014
Contest: Two Haiku (Describing The Month of January)
Sponsor: SKAT A
Superman’s Other Achilles’ Heel
By Elton Camp
Truth, justice and the American way
Superman pursued every single day
Bullets bounced right off his chest
Everything that he did was the best
A locomotive was weaker than he
Steel he bent with hands, you see
Able to leap tall buildings at a bound
He was the strongest fellow around
Only time he got into a tight
Was in contact with kryptonite
At least that the way the story’s told
But all forgot that he would grow old
For now his hair has grown thin
He has developed a double chin
X-ray vision won’t work with glasses
His reflexes are now slow as molasses
Firm muscles have turned to jelly
And Kal-El now has a beer belly
No matter how hard he may try
He’s now far too obese to fly
This little story may be hard to believe
An elderly Superman’s hard to conceive
Be A Better Putter
Was with naughty iron that is a nine,
Which some say has become benign,
That balls seemed slow as molasses;
Did need to take a few more classes.
From whole golf course would be cut;
Had played never learning how to putt,
Should see each scratchy terrible scar,
That was received for not making par.
Received setback and a major mishap,
Ball again did end up in a sand trap,
And occurred a complete catastrophe;
Drove my ball hard from tee into a tree.
To avoid all trash along with the clutter,
Wanted to try and buy a better putter;
From terrible putts ended up insane;
On course my golf bag does remain.
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/best/33466/james_horn
cleaning windows helps me to see
'course at present I too, need glasses
not just through, clearly, but metaphorically
yet without caffine I'm slow as molasses
but still I can get some insight outside
window's panes shine with spiritual gains
able to separate my own Jekyll and Hyde
both the Doctor and the madman do explain
that what seems to be seen as the truth
may be something entirely opposite and
may be in need of a more discerning sleuth
for my intellect to be able to understand
what at first look, seems black and white
may be the gray, between mistaken and right
© Goode Guy 2012-03-19
Dreams so sweet, fantasy of the mind
Mattress of feathers, soft as clouds
Covered in the warmth and safety
The touch of a lovers arms
The alarm "Screams" it's annoying mouth
Like a blood sucking mosquito
With it's endless thirst
I call out his name with echoes
Softly at first and then painfully loud
Honey...buzz
Sweety...buzz
Scott...buzz
Scott...Buzz
SCOTT...BUZZ!!
There is finally a movement, slow as molasses
Now I disappear back into the sweetness
Of my fantasy...
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