Time Being Poems - Poems about Time Being

Jailer's Time

Evil little faces
In little evil places 

come in from many cases
Behind the glass door mazes, do we really make changes?

Do they actually change us?
 I walk by the metal cages, I've come to feel the same spaces 

Humbly, I have to say this
We are all on borrowed time still

Ukiah At Dawn

The emptiness of
possibility
One hand clapping
— in the wind

(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)

Ancient Winds Of Time

Rain falls softly on the purple flower as it swings to and fro
in a field where everything blooms according to nature's will 
Steadfast and strong the morning sun rises in the East  
upon a lush carpet of grass soft as the ancient winds of time 

Light piano keys caress my mind as I close

TIME

This year and time
Will go down as
The worse time
In history, and it
Will never be forgotten
Not ever!

Universal Rhymes in Unitarian Time

If Eastern co-redemption
integrates unitarian-longing bodhisattvas
perhaps
Western peace-salvation
engages universal-belonging co-messiahs.

When highly functioning just-us
CONSCIENtious organic bodies
are also
1 eco-zone of co-redemptive dancing

Then deeply flowing peace-full
RELIGious sacred minds
are also
0-ego-zone of salvific
EarthPatriotic/GaiaMatriotic
resonantly singing 
resilient dancers.

Just because relationships resonantly rhyme
doesn't mean they are always
and everywhere True
AND
Because resilient correlations rhyme
throughout reasoned time
and seasoned space
also does not kindly mean we are never
and nowhere
not amusingly
not

I can't be

I can’t be
 sharing 
 my body  
 with you  
 who’s now a shallow pool 
 though the room is offices
 I can hear them panting now
   his saliva wet every bedsheet
he’s your boss
          your CEO
     

zenith hiku

For Sir Brian Strand's 1404 Poetry Contest 

15 August 2025 
                                            

Our Time to be Heroes

As the fires burn up our forests
and the deadly floods ravage our earth
All the traitors inside of the WH
give America new fascist birth

Our brothers and sisters patrol us
with the weapons of war that we made
As the songs they once sang about honor
about freedom and liberty, fade

They are building an army against us
search for people of

old tv box

old tv box
emerging from snow
with its rustic culture

A Silent Rune

Life’s canyon narrows
Its walls grow steep
Age walks slowly
A date to keep

Old shadows waver
On ancient winds
O’er paths that neither
Begin nor end

For here is here
And now is won
A future calls
A past is done

A greying moon’s
Soft light dims dreams
A sigh is heard
‘mid unseen streams

A twisting breeze
Hums an eerie tune
For time is not
A silent rune

Dead End

When do flowers no longer bloom
and the sea's stop touching the shore.

Light from the heaven's fail to shine
and the birds shall sing no more.

Innocent's of children no longer play
as time like a candle melts away.

Fleeting are the moments
we get to spend
and death is the reason
it all does end.

A spotted grey post

Aged, wetherbeaten.
Repainted.
Aged, wetherbeaten.
Six fence panels 
Next to a spotted grey post.
Right, right, wrong, right, wrong, wrong.
Split asunder, 
Now siblings, they stand.
Nailed shoulder to shoulder

once upon a time

What if I read to you a story Starting  

once upon a time 

And you realised that is was your 

Life spelt out on every Line. 

Would you hear my voice and Wonder as it  

Brushed across each word and pray my Arms have the strength to hold the truth About your world

That Pause between Summer and Autumn

Contest: Seasons now and after
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Date: 12.08.2025


Feel that pause between Summer and Autumn,
When the universe takes a relieved breath,
Before pulling the leaves to the bottom,
Where they fall to their silent crushing death;

Hear that sigh between Summer and Autumn,
Pregnant with the restless rustle of trees,
All good and ready for what God taught 'em,
Whispering soft the

Einstein

Once there was a young boy
who did not learn at the same pace
who did not race in the same
predictable race – while his peers
played with fish and ball – grew,
traditional degrees from short to tall,
his world turned at a different length
rate;  more different, were his
timeless seasons – artfully Time
he took in his hands, whittled
with

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