Related quotes: Time has no meaning beyond...

Time Has No Meaning

Time has no meaning
beyond the confines of death.
For when your life is over
and you've taken your last breath
only the interval that lay between
the then and now
is looked back in reflection
as you take your final bow.

Do you remember the exact time
of your birth on earth?
When you inhaled and made your entrance
and heard a ticking sound?
It was not the tick of the clock
that instantly brought you around.
It was the beat of your own sweet heart
in the body you were bound.

Can you identify the times of your life
that brought you insights new?
When it's time to pack it in
you may remember a few.
But the few were fleeting happenings
that drifted away into the blue.

The timelessness that's beyond this life
is the freedom we've been searching for.
All of our lives we pray for it
and are never really sure
where it is or if we'll ever reach it?
For life is so measured in time
that we wonder if it will all go away
as we hear the clock's last chime.
and so do not waste your thoughts
or worry about how time flies.
Because the timelessness that awaits us
is right beyond the skies.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Related quotes

Tick Tick Tick....!

Tick Tick Tick Tick,
Clock Ticks,
Lub dub Lub Dub heart beats,
Cycle of inhaling and exhaling
makes breath,
Pulses from unknown center has own lifetime,
keeps time for us, clock that set in
every cell schedules its life and
birth! Life is light trapped in atom,
excited electron has to fall back,
Just like life raises up and falls
back,
rhythm, wavelength and
frequency decide energy of light, local time may not match with
clock in other region,
Light travels covering space
does truly decide time?
You are the medium where light
is slowest, faster it is in different medium
and plane, Before the internal clock stops,
Sending warning alarm,
Alarm thyself, you are here not
only to know,
But also to the wish of the one
beyond light and clock, who can fix clock even in a light
photon,
can fix clock in everything,
Arise and awake before chime of
alarm,
No snooze is there in your clock, Never get yourself lost in
yawning,
No one can stay here.
when time is up!

Namaste and thank you all before
my clock ticks and buzz to say
time is up!

poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Me-Time Continuum

I watch the clock ticking out its time.
I hear the gears tocking 'till the chime…
I hold my stare acutely
And focus ears astutely.
The whole gestalt of this assault by me on clock
Collapses in to hence become
A new me-time continuum,
This clock and I a vacuum;
Dial and me, we've come to be
A synergistic, fatalistic victim,
Hmm…

When it ticks, I then tock:
I am me as well as clock.
When it tocks, I then tick.
We burn together down the wick
In candle wax, both cold and warm,
Together now in molten form.
We jump the side but soon to stall,
Only to solidify
Until the active plateau
Chases…
Down…
Sinking…
To melt again the bit that ran (us) –
All in a time storm
With timeless plan.

Ti me time time time time time time time time
Time time time time time
Time time time
Time time
Time time time
Time time time time time
Time time time time time time time time time

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Grandfather Clock

The old Tudor house was half-timbered and gaunt,
Was gloomy and dim in the hall,
And time had stood still, since my father was born,
In the clock that had stood by the wall.
Its pendulum hung, never making a sound
I'd never so much heard it chime,
But then, on the day that my Dad passed away,
Its tick had begun to keep time.

My mother was dead and my father was gone,
The half-timbered house passed to me,
I wandered its passages, sad and distraught,
As lonely as one man could be!
I'd sit in the lounge and I'd read by a lamp
With the rest of the house cloaked in gloom,
And heard the dread tick of that grandfather clock
As it echoed in time through the room!

Each tick was a portent, the passing of life,
Each tock brought me nearer to death,
I'd listen for noises, the timber that creaked,
Sit terrified, holding my breath!
The warm summer showers pit-pattered the thatch,
The wind would sough-sough at the eaves,
And summer passed quickly to autumn that year
In a thick golden carpet of leaves.

I never once wound up that grandfather clock,
I waited for it to wind down,
But like a tap dripping, it never would stop
I felt I was starting to drown.
I found in the library's masses of books
An ancient collection of tomes,
And one that was covered in leather, I looked,
And read, and I wished that I'd known!

Sir Richard FitzWalter had lived in that house,
And he it was, ordered the clock,
He'd fought against Cromwell for Charlie the First
‘Til Charles lost his head on the block!
He'd fled to the country, was caught in the house,
And hanged on the tree by the gate,
His wife, Lady Mary, had begged for his life
But the Roundheads had jeered: ‘You're too late! '

She left them, went sobbing back into the hall
And she clung to the grandfather clock,
But just as her husband, his heart ceased to beat,
She heard that the ticking had stopped.
That clock never ran for the rest of her life,
But showed just a quarter to four,
The time that Sir Richard was pinioned and hung
At the gate, on the tree by his door.

The clock began ticking when Mary had died,
Had taken her grief to the grave,
And each generation it stopped or began
When the master was born, or was saved!
I knew then the clock had been ticking for me
And I wanted it never to stop,
I'd wake in the night and I'd tremble to hear
If my heart was still pounding, or not.

Then one winter's night I was restless, and rose
From my sleep, and walked down to the hall,
A Cavalier soldier stood facing the clock,
Adjusting the pendulum pawl;
Resetting the weights on that grandfather clock
So my heart would continue to beat,
From that time to this, I have lived here content
While Sir Richard returns as I sleep.

6 August,2012

poem by David Lewis Paget
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The End

The end of anything comes rather easy,
Time is not like a clock, time is freaky.
The sun does not come and go,
The moon does not come and go.
I doubt of the true shape of the sun,
Thinking about eternity is not fun,
And the moon and the earth are not round;
They are shapeless. We are bound
To fail exponentially and to succeed moderately.
Time never leaves, time is funny,
Unlike the clock, it follows a straight line,
Never stops, never breaks and is always fine.
Death is the end of the retirement,
It is the beginning of a new testament.
The end of something is the beginning of another,
Should we remember how many times
That the child has been a sophomore, a senior?
At birth, we were reminded by countless chimes
Of life, that there is an end to everything,
And there is always a new beginning.
The constant ending of matters sends the wrong message,
Always remember that life is a passage.
We move on from one state to another,
It is mind-boggling that we’re always thinking about the future.

poem by Hebert Logerie
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Tick tock

Time is ticking by.
Tick tock tick tock.
Like a clock.
Time is rushing on by.
Tick tock death is near.
Don't play it by ear.

Tick tock my life is nearly done.
Ticktock my life has almost gone.
Life is not always fun.

Razor to wrists.
Knife to throat.
Vodka and pills swallowed.
Life has beaten me.
It had won in the end

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Time in Hell

I float in time with open mind...
A quest; a chance of riddled thought:
Infinity squared, then seek to find
An answer; pained and overwrought,
I dodder with an addled head;
Befuddled, merging with a haze of
Mysticism, then to tread
A metaphoric swamp – a maze
Of existentialism…

But now for time to tick in rhyme
With ‘tock’ – a clock to tell thro’ chime
Precisely on the knell
That as I dared to understand,
I must be deep in Hell…

Time
Time, time
Time, time, time, time
Ticking time, timing time
Time and time and time in time is time
for time in Hell is time and time for time, is time
Oh time is time, time, time, ticking time in Hell
Ticking time, timing time
Time, time, time, time
Time time
Time

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Souls

It all started here, she was a girl form the midwest
He was a stranger in a strange land
Same old story
He came for the glory
She came looking for a young mans hand
But they found bright lights
And endless nights
And men just used her innocent ways
He found it all so pretty, hypnotized by the city
They lost sight of the reason
They lost count of the days
And they were two souls searching for each other
One spirit looking for the other
Caught between a hard hard place and a rock
Two souls searching for heaven
Rolling the dice looking for a seven
To the tick, tick, ticking of time
Gotta beat the clock
Too many nights on the ledge
He acquired a knife-edge
Still the city didnt acquiesce to his demands
Some nights she cried for pity in the heart of the city
The city smacked her hands
He met her one endless night
Her eyes had a light
There was something familiar about the smell of her skin
He held her tighter and tighter
As he danced inside her
She knew from the moment that she let him in
Theyd been two souls searching for each other
One spirit looking for the other
Caught between a hard hard place and a rock
Two souls searching for heaven
Rolling the dice looking for a seven
To the tick, tick, ticking of time
Gotta beat the clock
Beat the clock
Beat the clock
Beat the clock
Two souls searching for each other
One spirit looking for the other
Caught between a hard hard place and a rock
Two souls searching for heaven
Rolling the dice looking for a seven
To the tick, tick, ticking of time
Gotta beat the clock

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The poem and her poet

Death once told poor life defeated by life:
Life's no life if lived on the edge of knife,
No more a struggle, nor is full of strife,
Do ye know how many deaths is Death rife?

Death's all death; the same is not true of life,
Life tries to knot her up snaps when death's knife,
But I've heard a man asking on death bed,
Pray, tell me Death, how long ere I'm all dead?

To him, said death, straightening up his head,
Moments might when look like minutes of dread,
Minutes stretch and stretch into hours, instead,
When hours take days, and days, years, you are dead.

Remember, life's lived moment to moment,
‘Tis measured too in a moving moment,
Forget not: Death alone is permanent,
I dwell in life from birth, live life dormant;

There's no freedom in life, nor should death call,
Death changes but the bricks of prison wall,
All quarrels ‘tween life and death, big and small,
Settled are, death when proves him far too tall.

Life is a small piece, but a paragraph
Of my poem, said Death, metre nor measure but in half,
Life may decide every new beginning,
But ‘tis me that knows the length, knows ending.

Eons pass sans measure for endless time,
While no clocks tick, nor dare their hours to chime,
Boulders of rocks break down whilst time stands still,
O grinding into grains of sands sans will.

While life is stuck with my poem's first rhyme,
Death challenged life to dare the worst she can,
I'm the Absolute trouser wearing man1,
I wonder how relative would tick time!
_____________________________________________ ___________
1. Death muses himself to be the male principle, the purusha.
The poem stands for life and prakriti. The piece here depicts
a dialogue between Life, or the matter, the poem and her
creator poet, the Death. In Indic philosophy, purusha is the
presiding deity, the atman or soul, which is eternal and body
is made of prakriti, the material nature, which is death-bound.
_____________________________________________ __________________
- Musings | 12.08.12 |

poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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Time2

Time is running
Running through my mind
It continuously runs
Even when i waste time

'Time is
A valuable thing
Watch it fly by
Like a pendelum swing'

'Watched it watch me
And the words that i say
But the time of the clock
Echoes in my veins.'

The clock keeps tickin
No matter what you do
You could be action idiotic
But you're wasting time too

'i know that i didnt
Look down below
As i watched the time go
Right out the window'

You can waste your life
If you dont value your time
pay atention to this poem
And just Think of this Ryme.

'i tried to hold on
tried not to watch
As i wasted it all
On the hands of a clock'

Time is Life

poem by Anthony Zeigler
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Time And How To Spend It

LONG AGO AND FAR AWAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF SPACE
THERE WAS NO CLOCK, THERE WAS NO TIME, NOR ANY MAN TO COUNT IT
THEN FROM THE VOID, DARK REACH OF SPACE, A WONDROUS GLOBE APPEARED
BUT STILL NO CLOCK, STILL NO TIME, AND STILL NO MAN TO COUNT IT
AND THEN FROM GOD, EARTH AND CLAY, CAME MAN AND TIME-BOTH FLEETING
THEN DAY AND NIGHT, DARK AND LIGHT, DIVIDED BY SUN'S GREETING AND CAME THE NEED TO KEEP THE TIME, OF WHICH THERE SEEMS NO ENDING
AND SOME GREAT SAGE WITH DOUR WORD IS NOW A MESSAGE SENDING
HASTEN QUICKLY, LOSE NO TIME, THE END OF TIME IS PENDING
NOW YESTERDAYS ARE LONG AGO AND TOMORROW MAY NOT COME
SO TAKE EACH MOMENT AS A GIFT-FROM SUN TO SETTING SUN
BUT WASTE NO TIME WITH HURTFUL THOUGHTS SPEND NO TIME DESTRUCTIVE
FOR TIME YOU SEE IS A PRECIOUS THING, SO SPEND YOUR TIME CONSTRUCTIVE. THOUGH I'M NO SAGE NOR LETTERED MAN, ONE THING I KNOW FOR CERTAIN
IT'S BEST TO SPEND TIME DAY BY DAY---UNTIL THAT FINAL CURTAIN!

poem by Lyken L. Warren
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Remember The Time

Do you remember
When we fell in love
We were young
And innocent then
Do you remember
How it all began
It just seemed like heaven
So why did it end?
Do you remember
Back in the fall
Wed be together
All day long
Do you remember
Us holding hands
In each others eyes
Wed stare
(tell me)
Do you remember the time
When we fell in love
Do you remember the time
When we first met
Do you remember the time
When we fell in love
Do you remember the time
Do you remember
How we used to talk
(ya know)
Wed stay on the phone
At night till dawn
Do you remember
All the things we said like
I love you so
Ill never let you go
Do you remember
Back in the spring
Every morning birds would sing
Do you remember
Those special times
Theyll just go on and on
In the back of my mind
Do you remember the time
When we fell in love
Do you remember the time
When we first met girl
Do you remember the time
When we fell in love
Do you remember the time
Those sweet memories
Will always be dear to me
And girl no matter what was said
I will never forget what we had
Now baby
Do you remember the time
When we fell in love
Do you remember the time
When we first met
Do you remember the time
When we fell in love
Do you remember the time
Do you remember the time
When we fell in love
Do you remember the time
When we first met
Do you remember the time
When we fell in love
Do you remember the time
Remember the times
Ooh
Remember the times
Do you remember girl
Remember the times
On the phone you and me
Remember the times
Till dawn, two or three
What about us girl
Remember the times
Do you. do you, do you,
Do you, do you
Remember the times
In the park, on the beach
Remember the times
You and me in spain
Remember the times
What about, what about...
Remember the times
Ooh... in the park
Remember the times
After dark..., do you, do you, do you
Remember the times
Do you, do you, do you, do you
Remember the times
Yeah yeah
Remember the times

song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time Clock

we all have a time clock ticking every moment
of every day.
until the last gasp of breath
which slowly slips away.

so while here on this earth
use every second that goes by.
for we pass through this world but once
no matter how we try.

we will be remembered by friends and family
for the goodness when we care.
for that is something that they'll always share.

when you share the joys and sorrows
the heartaches and the pain
the warmth and tenderness that you feel
for them is still the same.

open up your heart for all the world to see
that what you have locked up inside
has finally been set free.

enjoy life to the fullest
for there is no turning back
the time clock keeps on ticking
and does'nt ease up the slack.

poem by Louis Rams
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You Are Very Special

God thought you were very Special,

So he brought you to Earth.

He gave you many talents

at the time of your birth.

He brought with you some angels

who would guide

and protect you

and make sure you were fine,

these angels are with you,

they are with you all the time.

You will have an interesting life

with many twists and turns,

Your life is a great adventure

with so much to learn! !

So make sure you thank the Lord

for your time here each day

when counting your blessings

as you kneel down to pray.

Just remember you are Very Special,

And blessed in every way,

by God’s Love every single day!

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Early Works - Time Out

Deep within the blackness
lay the barriers
known to all as time
with depths much deeper
than the boundaries of hell.
Within each boundary
lie one day,
one year,
and one century.

And still within the blackness
lies more barriers
known to all as the future
with heights higher than heaven,
which are guided by the hand of fate.

Time rules our lives
and fate rules time
to the extent
it causes destruction
or gives life to those in need.

Time can be a killer
and time can be a prayer,
time can be helpful
and time can be a menace.

Unlike anything on earth,
time has no ending,
where life can cease to be
time will carry on
even when all life has gone.

Time to us is just a word
for one cannot see time;
one cannot feel time,
though one can define time
as a passing.

We all live within a life cycle
where time is all around us.
Though we cannot see time,
it is a constant ruler
within our lives.

Time is measured for travel
in light,
in sound,
in speed.

Time is measured for life
in seconds,
in minutes,
in hours,
in years,
in centuries.

But time is only a word
and the meaning is so complex
that the real meaning
is hard
to explain.

Except that, life
as we know it
would never really
exist
without time.

Date Unknown

Authors Note:
Originally the title of this piece was Time, but I changed it for Time Out as I realised I had already written two later pieces with the same title. I believe this was written in the late 1960 and was the first piece with the title. On of my very early poems from the construction of it. Please do judge me too harshly because of it.

poem by David Harris
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Grandpa's Clock

in that ticking of the clock
three generations of time
had ticked past...
with some tickings fixed firm
each ticking concealed
tireless roar of the sea
and a conundrum of emotions
time has its way of
teasing and tiring us
one fine evening during
a casual chitchat as sister
got off from the chair
she hit back at time and
the grandfather's clock-
though i had never known him
but through the clock fixed to the wall-
that seemed to chime
eternally into the wee hours
each time waking me up cruelly
from an innocent sleep
lay there in pieces...

the pendulum, still oscillates
the conundrum, still unsolved
the flux of the sea, still echoes
though we could never manage
to get another clock

and external surfaces
still gleam and glitter...

20dec2009
08.21hrs

poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Pleading For More Time

I fear...
The ticking of a clock heard.
Tick-tock-a-tick-tick-tick tock,
a-tick tock.
I fear...
The ticking of a clock heard.
Tick-tock-a-tick-tick-tick tock,
a-tick tock.
I fear...
The ticking of a clock heard.
Tick-tock-a-tick-tick-tick tock,
a-tick tock.
And I don't want to be the one,
Pleading for more time.
And I don't want to be the one,
With a trying of time to find...
When it's gone!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Value Things To Chase

To value things to chase,
Seems such a waste of life.
And this becomes realized,
Once those things chased...
Become less important,
To run after 'if' one can still...
Remember the doing of this!
OR can move,
From a self inflicted confinement.

And the waste of time to live life,
As one would like to do basically...
Eventually becomes regretted.
With wishes they had lived life...
Not in attempts to convice someone,
OR anyone they could impress...
With the getting of attention.

'If I had the time and energy to do those things,
I really wanted to do...
I would do them.'

I've heard that so many times before,
Form those who had the time and energy.
But wasted both complaining,
About what they didn't have and 'who' undeserving did.

'You don't understand.'

You are right!
And I'm not giving you the time,
To hear you reminisce about the swiftness of life.
With wishes of wanting to waste 'my' time as you'd like.
And call that whatever you choose.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Automation

Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
steal lady of the night.
She sits alone while birdies flock
to bid her a goodnight.

Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
the world's automated
and the lady in a metal cloak
will live alone, unaided.

Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
her hard drive stirs again
and while I type this poem,
so dies my mighty pen.

Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
so true, so true the fear
that life as we once knew it
has slowly disappeared.

Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock
we victims of our time.
The last bird flies above us
while all of nature dies.

poem by Ruth Walters
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New-Year's Eve

Good old days--dear old days
When my heart beat high and bold--
When the things of earth seemed full of life,
And the future a haze of gold!
Oh, merry was I that winter night,
And gleeful our little one's din,
And tender the grace of my darling's face
As we watched the new year in.
But a voice--a spectre's, that mocked at love--
Came out of the yonder hall;
'Tick-tock, tick-tock!' 't was the solemn clock
That ruefully croaked to all.
Yet what knew we of the griefs to be
In the year we longed to greet?
Love--love was the theme of the sweet, sweet dream
I fancied might never fleet!

But the spectre stood in that yonder gloom,
And these were the words it spake,
'Tick-tock, tick-tock'--and they seemed to mock
A heart about to break.

'T is new-year's eve, and again I watch
In the old familiar place,
And I'm thinking again of that old time when
I looked on a dear one's face.
Never a little one hugs my knee
And I hear no gleeful shout--
I am sitting alone by the old hearthstone,
Watching the old year out.
But I welcome the voice in yonder gloom
That solemnly calls to me:
'Tick-tock, tick-tock!'--for so the clock
Tells of a life to be;
'Tick-tock, tick-tock!'-'tis so the clock
Tells of eternity.

poem by Eugene Field
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Opposites Attract

He was always on time,
never late.
Never made anyone
or anything wait.
They said, 'He's here.
We all can start.'
He looked around
and played his part.

She was always late,
never on time.
Never heard the clock tick
or the bells chime.
They said, 'She's late.
What will we do? '
Nothing got done
and time just flew.

A minute man
and a slow-eyed daisy,
one ambitious,
the other one lazy.
But together they were
the perfect pair.
For when he didn't have enough time
she had plenty to spare.