There.
third row, second seat
hair over eyes, red-rimmed
tired maybe?
shirt buttoned wrong
laces untied
broken hearted
last row, right at the back
a young couple
giggling
not watching
love
how long will it last
the movie starts
theatre darkens
eyes front
focused on the screen
engrossed, distracted
popcorn, drinks, spilt
front row
now on the floor
children
necks tilted up
vibrating in excitement
can't look away
middle aisle
near the exit
new parents
on the edge of their seat
waiting for the call
desperate for a night off
movie ends
lights rise
people stand, stretch
slowly trickle out
leaving behind spilt drinks, popcorn
the floor a mosaic of people
netflix
stan
prime
hulu
peacock
disney
empty now
darkness lingers
screen unused
velvet seats grow dusty
stale popcorn permeates
I am empty now
No one there.
We cannot know for sure
How much time we have left
And there isn’t a cure
For the loved ones, bereft.
Death may sometimes arrive
Just the way you’d expect,
But for those who survive,
There’s a real disconnect
From the world that they knew
Where their loved one drew breath
To what they can’t get through,
Which is deal with a death.
It has always been so
And it always will be.
When the time comes to go,
There’s no bargain or plea
That can change the harsh fact
Of a person’s demise
Nor step in to distract
From what hope now denies.
The leaves are starting to change color
The door opens, to bring a new season
My dog runs with his blue collar
He's dancing in the field without a reason
It's cloudy, but it's a quiet day
The signs of Autumn bring peace
My dog reminds me to be free, to play
I will hold a stop sign at stress increase
It's a blessing, more time this is
to live, to love, to give, to be
As i share some of what is his,
I praise vision for all that I see
The purple flowers look at me
with wide open blossoms, like eyes
Then, I notice the buzzing bee
reminding me time doesn't stop, it flies
Heidi Sands
9/17/26
(C)opyright
Three wishes? Oh, let's see -
how about immortality?
Hmm, that sounds good. However,
I think it would take forever.
Eyes of Time, do you get tired
in the heavens high above
as you see the world play out
with all its hate and love?
Yes, I am the Eyes of Time,
and of love, I never tire.
There are many ways to love,
from kindness to desire.
I watch with sweet pleasure
when a young man takes a wife,
and soon there is a baby,
and I thrill at newborn life.
Yet, when I watch men fight wars,
and see them clash and die,
(both sides, virtuous and right)
these Eyes of Time must cry.
Pain creeped in with the early hours of the morning,
I was doubled over in pain.
As I was screaming,
my dad was wrapping me in a blanket.
Off to the hospital he sped,
then carrying me through the big doors.
My appendix was about to burst open,
emergency surgery was for me.
Time seems to go faster, the older you get.
Your youth takes the hit.
Days go by.
Time won't stand still, no matter how hard I try.
Time has left me behind.
Perhaps a memory, in someone else's mind.
Days go by.
As the sun zips across the sky.
Kissing yesterday good bye.
I'm exactly where I need to be.
I see
The coming of tomorrow.
My land of no sorrow.
As far as I can see..
I was, maybe, never meant to be.
As the world passes me by.
I surely do try.
Not to cry.
As I make my way.
Through each day.
For me, life is a gift.
A smile gives the heart a lift.
Words in my head, float around
Silence, the absence of sound.
I refuse to place a knee on the ground.
I've taken life's best hit.
Still I refuse to quit.
Take a deep breath.
What is death.
Writing my rhymes.
Lost in past times.
I can still smile
No sense of style.
But I live.
Of my heart I give.
Lonely.
No one and only.
I don't mind.
I find.
Being left behind.
The more life passes me by.
The less I cry.
She notes how the days
have grown shorter.
A cacophony of grackles
near a cornfield fills the air.
A farmer across the road
walks along his field
checking his corn before harvest.
Leaves rustling
in the wind sing.
The construction crew
has passed her driveway.
She asks the flagger to
help her daughter across.
The school bus arrives
late afternoon. Lights flash
She rushes onto the porch
and hugs her daughter
who wears a backpack.
The mother notices
the sky is gold
as she looks out the window
and cooks supper on the stove.
Her daughter sits in a chair
hands folded on her lap.
So good to see her daughter
she thinks after letting go
in the morning and waiting
for a late afternoon embrace.
"As the leaf of life sleeps upon my lips,"
I will see the "foliage of farewell."
"When the soul-stars dream and die,"
I see red leaves covering the fall trees.
"O fall, let this lore of love be the last,"
for I now see "I am the Eyes of Time."
The green leaves must change colors for the fall,
but "neither dusk nor dawn can delude me."
time spinning away
here today gone tomorrow
enjoy each moment
15.09.2026
knots in wrinkles
kinks in years,
creases holding
dried-up tears.
snags in laughter,
cracks in grin,
time folds outward,
memory folds in.
age in the folds,
memory in creases,
years tug tight on
what time releases.
memory in marrows
years cut into furrows
lines across hands
unwind the arrows.
creases in sheets
wrinkles in water
rings inside trees
encircle the slaughter.
weather on faces
time left in traces
leaves laces undone
to ace with graces.
rust in the hinges,
dust galore,
halls remember
feet on the floor.
dents on the pillow,
chill in the bed,
one side remembers
the weight of a head.
rings on fingers,
prints on the glass,
touch bears witness
long after we pass.
frost on temples,
salt in the hair,
seasons keep tally
of all that was there.
echoes in dreams,
dust on the sill,
silence grows louder
the longer it's still.
NFL SUNDAY
AND CFL SATURDAY
AND NCAA
A girl watchmaker stands among clocks rimmed with frost,
their pale faces caught in winter's thin hush.
She watches silence drip from their frozen hands,
each drop a faint crack in the brittle air.
Shadows settle like cold breath around her craft,
while time thins itself beneath her steady gaze.
He keeps time
in the front of his hat,
a clock that ticks sideways
and only when it wants to.
The books beneath him
lean like secrets,
each spine a doorway
he’s already wandered through
and rearranged.
He laughs softly,
as if the world
is a riddle he solved
years ago
and misplaced the answer
on purpose.
His silk hat glows
with borrowed moonlight.
His shadow stretches
longer than logic.
And his smile~
that crooked invitation~
suggests that madness
is simply wonder
without its manners.
If there’s a message,
it’s hidden in the ticking:
time isn’t the master
of Wonderland.
It’s just another guest
at the Hatter’s table,
pouring tea
into the wrong cup
and pretending
it meant to.
Neon and noise.
Night-world horrors.
Whose reflections, whose echoes
Showed not, nor shook
Its panes and doors.
Conscience-singeing.
Waywardly flapped.
Strange appeal! Once sought but through
A moonlight kiss.
A round dance. Clapped.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.