Metaphor Time Poems

As the clocks creep,
unknown...
again, 
my summer's call,
of Calendulas,
and Cotswold stone,
crumbles,
in compliance,
that this, beauty, 
cannot be…here,
just for me, 
alone. 


...

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1st wind, childhood
2nd wind, jobs, career
3rd wind, elder life.

                ...

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            Time is too slow
       ...

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I stand with a treasure map,
no X to mark the spot.
A scattering of clues,
roadmaps of endless dots.

Your name is on an envelope,
surely that’s proof enough?
But...

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Poe’s Hourglass: A Melancholic Decree

Once upon a midnight dreary,
As sands slip through life’s hourglass, eerie,
I pondered upon my penitent past,
And the regrets that will forever...

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It simmers. This constant invisible, hovering 
like a wasp in the forever periphery threatening 
lightning strike yellows, sudden and unbidden. It spills
and spools, down into...

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from your first born, when you grab a dusting of talc, crushed with late night feeds, stirring in bouncing and stories on a knee,

adding a...

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I hear them talking as I open my eyes, 
a hazy something lingers on my lips like lava, 
threatening to erupt. I hear question then...

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Sheila asked him
“Do you have the time?”
Ben answered “It’s five after two.” She responded “That is a perfectly good answer, but that is not the...

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Chase my tricks of dew 
among the narcissi
that sit atop 
my window sill
with flits of stolen 
galanthus 
I pilfered just for you.

I hasten that you...

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Flourishing begins. In the balance
jewels sparkling green and blue.
Tentative fronds with daunting climb
from warming depths, ever upwards.
Scornful Giant rages above; life fuel.
Spiteful rising waters are...

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I walked into that place
Sun shining on my face 
Knowing I'd leave soon 
But as my heartbeat picked up its pace
Growing fond of this new...

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I am Time,
I do not know
Where I’ve come from
Nor do I know whither I am going
I only know that I started in the past
And am...

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Weaving Work I

                      ...

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- in those moments, it shines.
The nostalgia of an upside down
world glinting up through hourglasses of years,
a mark impressed upon flesh; a scar harbouring
simple childhood...

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