Just One Of Those Mornings
I woke up this morning in a confused state
and found myself part of a huge mistake.
Here I was amidst a time contradiction,
which left its telling to pure prediction.
I thought I was in another dimension,
where chaos ruled by deliberate intension.
What is the correct time I repeatedly asked myself
the wall clocks all differ to the one on the shelf.
Our mobile phones display different times
and the microwave clock is an hour behind.
I'll check with Sky news, their clocks always on,
but why do some show that an hour has gone?
My mind is searching for a rational explanation,
be logical I thought after some deliberation.
My eureka moment came when my head cleared,
thank God an hour gets lost only once a year.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Related quotes
A monologue on 'nothing in particular
Well you know,
It always begins like this
'The day starts'
Half an hour early for me
Clocks set hour an hour early
The day begins
Well morning starts
With a break of sunlight
Flooding through the cracks
In the blinds
In summer it is always much earlier
Than the pre set time on the alarm clock
Which is primed to go off
Half an hour earlier
Inevitably
The light wakes me at sunrise
Which often occurs around five o'clock
Like some cruel trick
I am woken exactly an hour or is it half an hour
Before my alarm clock goes off, half an hour earlier?
Which is set to go off half an hour early
But that never happens in the summer
The lie in ends up a sleep over
In winter this is a different matter again
With no light
So there I am at five in the morning
exactly or, approximately the time
The sun is meant to set
[bar a second or to or maybe a minute
behind or ahead of prediction]
There I am WIDE AWAKE
No lie in
No chance of sleeping
Again
Exept at the WRONG TIME!
Then I recover
Five minutes behind schedule
pull the blind
make a cup of tea
giving myself exactly
thirty minutes
Before drinking it
to get ready for work
Flossing does not happen until
A much later time
There is a ten minute interval
For toast and tea
And tidying away
My watch is set five minutes ahead
Or maybe three minutes
I leave on time
In time for the bus that leaves
Two minutes early
The next one arrives ten minutes late
The driver
Has donated his brain to medical science
Thirty years prior to his death
Give or take a couple of hours or minutes
He slips into a slow coma behind the steering wheel
The world is in slow motion
Catatonia eclipses the traffic
I am now on time
To be late
despite all my carefully timed efforts
Now that was just the beginning of the morning
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
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Time
time
the clock lies
the hour is still around
never passes
only our body has revolted
the world too
in fact the whole universe
time
the clock lies
the hour is still around
never passes
only our physique
and the material
have failed to rise up to the occasion
they are the real clocks
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Ages Flicker in the Hot Fire
Ages flicker in the hot fire
where I sit in the bar
time passes slowly hour-by-hour,
my face reflects in the glass, somewhat confused
the flames jump bright orange, blue and white,
ages flicker in the hot fire
with shades playing on the wall of the fireplace
and deeper something fries like on a spit,
time passes slowly hour-by-hour
someone complains about his wife, wants to hire prostitutes
while a couple sit down at a table with a candle,
ages flicker in the hot fire,
outside the thunder bashes down, my whisky is very expensive,
the candle in front of me burns down to its end,
time passes slowly hour-by-hour
then I see you, pretty and my match
I cannot avoid your eyes,
ages flicker in the hot fire
time passes slowly hour-by-hour.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Time, unfortunately, though it makes animals and vegetables bloom and fade with amazing punctuality, has no such simple effect upon the mind of man. The mind of man, moreover, works with equal strangeness upon the body of time. An hour, once it lodges in the queer element of the human spirit, may be stretched to fifty or a hundred times its clock length; on the other hand, an hour may be accurately represented on the timepiece of the mind by one second. This extraordinary discrepancy between time on the clock and time in the mind is less known than it should be and deserves fuller investigation.
Virginia Woolf in Orlando: A Biography
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Why the silence?
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or the eyes may straggle and it's the hour of dreams
Or the mind may have been displaced and it's hour of reflections
Or the heart has been busy and it's hour of the groans
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or the words have got lost in the midst of ideas
Or silence now become the language of the times
Or the tongue tie with a sunset
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or now no need for my presence
Or now I am a hidden friend
Or now I am not who I was
Why the silence? Is it the hour of sunset?
Or... And the story continue silently
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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When The Blue Hour Comes
Orbison/ crowell
The good times are all gone
The night keeps coming on so strong
You cant hold on, no matter what you do
Will there be someone who cares for you
When the blue hour comes?
When the blue hour comes?
And when your restless heart
Tears your world apart
And everywhere you turn
Its falling down on you
Will there be a light that shines for you?
When the blue hour comes for you
If theres anything that you would have me do
Just call on me and Ill be coming through
I will always be there for you
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
Good times dont last forever
Sometimes its now or never
Darling, reach out for me
You know where Ill be
I will always be there for you
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes for you
If theres anything that you would have me do
Just call on me and Ill be coming through
I will always be there for you
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
I will always be there
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes....(repeat to fade)
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Bought You A Rose
the problem is
the grandfather clock
in the adjacent room
it chimes
on the hour
every hour
through the night
it keeps me awake
through the night
the night in which
i think of you
because
i hold the rose
in my hand
through the night
the rose that i bought you
in the afternoon
the rose that you did not want
in the evening
the evening when i took you out
and you said
you did not want the rose
you wanted it to be over between us
you said it was no use
a rose was no use
a rose could not
bring us together
a rose could not
keep us together
a rose by any other name
is still just a rose
you said
i should keep my rose
you said
you said it when i offered you the rose
you said it again
when the evening was over
when we left each other
and so i took it home
the rose that i bought you
i thought of you
on my way home
with the rose
i thought of how it had been
between us
i thought of how it might have been
between us
i tried to forget
how it had been
between us
i tried to forget
how it might have been
between us
but the rose reminded me
how it was
between us
i took the rose with me
when i got into bed
when i tried to sleep
it had been deep red
but it seemed to me
now it was not so deep red
as it had been before
each time i woke
i looked at the rose
each time it seemed
not so deep red
as it had been before
each time it seemed
a little more faded
a little more dry
a little less red
a little less fresh
each time
its scent also
had been beautiful
like you were beautiful
its scent also seemed to me
a little more faded
a little less fresh
a little less beautiful
a little less able
to evoke you
a little less able
to keep you
to keep your memory
alive
alive in the night
even when i turned on the light
to look again
at the rose
to inhale again
the perfume of the rose
i saw it fading
i saw you fading
i saw your beauty fading
through the night
and i saw that you were right
about the rose
that a rose is just a rose
that a rose could not
bring us together
that a rose could not
keep us together
that a rose by any other name
is still just a rose
that you by any other name
are still just a rose
fading through the night
i cannot keep you
for i cannot keep you
from fading through the night
like this rose i bought you
like any rose
like anything i ever bought you
the problem is
the grandfather clock
in the adjacent room
it chimes
on the hour
every hour
through the night
poem by Rory Hudson
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Little Clock
Why in pensive ticking, silent thoughts
You wile your time away
When all around huge swelling bells
Toll the days away!
Every hour that announced may go
Your silent hands take hold
And though the ages chimed in ears
Yours they never behold.
If all the clocks the world had known
Had struck one strong big note,
They would never still your plodding tone
Nor the working hearth you alert.
Do you wonder, wonder, little clock
What makes the grandfather tick!
Or his aching belly in the depth of sorrow
Cries to the world it's sick!
Thirty million years and Pleistocene dark,
They are one split second short!
And whimpering suns that rise and flop
Have scarce stolen your tick or thought!
So, my little clock, my faithful clock
When I hear the tall town bell,
I'll shrug my shoulders, one tiny moment
And know that all is well.
Dedicated to Gertrud Widmayer, my landlady at Heidelberg
(©: T. Wignesan,1957 (from the collection: Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961)
poem by T. Wignesan
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Sunshine At Midnight
The boy was a senior, she was a sophomore.
Who would've thought.
That time of year again,
You know the time.
Girls buying dresses anticipating the night,
We all know the one.
Guys deciding who to ask and how,
All putting on a show.
He was a senior, she was a sophomore,
Who would've thought.
The beginning of more,
You know how the story goes.
Hour after hour of conversation and flirting,
How it always is.
Looking for innocent romance,
You know the kind.
He was a senior, she was a sophomore,
Who would've thought.
Until it came close to the end of the year,
What a dreadful time.
And something happened then,
A story rather untold.
Still, friendship remained,
After time, that is.
He was a senior, she was a sophomore,
Who would've thought.
Slowly their friendship mended and built up again,
The way it usually won't.
Conversations begin again, endless nights of words,
Memories replaying.
Even now, after everything, his sunshine at midnight,
Always will be.
He was a senior, she was a sophomore,
Who would've thought.
Now he's off at college and occasionally they speak,
Reconnecting conversations.
In times of need the other is there,
What's more to expect?
Words of encouragement and listening ears,
How it should be.
He was a senior, she was a sophomore,
Who would've thought.
Brought together at a random point in time,
You know the time.
He changed her life, even if she didn't change his,
Who's to say?
He entered her life and will always be there,
Like people do.
She hopes he thinks of her, remembers her, thinks of her the same,
You know how it is.
She writes these words of truth and remembrance,
Forever his Sunshine at Midnight.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Many men are like clocks that show one hour and strike another.
Peak Hour
I see it all through my window it seems.
Never failing, like millions of eels.
All that is wrong,
No time to be won.
Only to do
What can be done.
Peak hour,
Peak hour,
Peak hour.
Minds are subject to what should be done.
Problem solved, time cannot be won.
One hour a day,
One hour a night
Sees crowds of people
Home-aimed for flight.
Peak hour,
Peak hour,
Peak hour.
It makes me want to run out and tell them
They've got time.
Take a step back out and warn them
I've found out I've got time.
Minds are subject to what should be done.
Problem solved, time cannot be won.
One hour a day,
One hour a night
Sees crowds of people
Home-aimed for flight.
Peak hour,
Peak hour,
Peak hour.
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Elysium
I languish through the day
In morbid dissatisfaction of time
Barely working through motions
How the mind has become
Such a terrible thing to waste
I play on once such thought
More often than any other it seems
A thought of a girl
One who I fancy I may love
Yet abstain from telling her such
I question if I know this fate
How my feelings are but finished
I know this beautiful girl is fair
Gently spoken in her manners
And that I hold nothing for her
A thought of love becomes an irritation
Which labours in my concision
Such is that I languish myself
Hour upon morbid hour
Till the day like my thoughts
Become done and redundant
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Growth or decay?
‘From hour to hour we ripe and ripe;
From hour to hour we rot and rot.’
The time spent grows and the time left shrinks.
Do we undergo growth or decay?
08.07.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Hour Of Gold
(Emmylou Harris)
I have seen your soul turn black
And then retreat
To that dark place where no one else may follow
I waited here for your returning
To roll your cigarette
And wash your bloodied feet
You have heard the silent running
Of my dreams
Broke me from the grip of grief and fever
With the sound of your voice speaking my name
And a kiss
That I will feel forever
In the hour of gold, the hour of lead
WG did forge our wedding bed
On a hard and holy road
We lay down our head
In tha hour of gold, the hour oi lead
I have watched you riding on
The wall of death
And when il finally breaks you and you fall
I will tear this dress of muslin that you gave me
To bind the fatal wound
And catch your last sweet breath
In the hour of gold, the hour of lead
We did forge our wedding bed
On a hard and holy road
We lay down our head
In the hour of gold, the hour of lead
But the world will be my witness when
They excavate my heart
And find the image of your face
Imprinted there like some Shroud of Turin
That neither time Nor tundra could erase
In the hour of gold, the hour of lead
We did forge our wedding bed
On a hard and holy road
We lay down our head
In the hour of gold, the hour of lead
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Uncomfortable
Uncomfortable, I wish I was comfortable,
'Cause I could show you loveable and sit another hour with you.
Sympathy, I need a little sympathy.
You ask me what I wanna be, I wanna little time with you.
If I could just see you again, i'd show you who I am.
If I could be with you again, i'd show you what, i'd show you what is
Uncomfortable, I wish I was comfortable,
'Cause I could show you loveable and sit another hour with you.
Apathy, I wish that wasn't half of me.
I hope it's not the end of me, just wish i'd never made it come true.
If I could just see you again, i'd show you who I am.
If I could be with you again, i'd show you what, i'd show you what is
Uncomfortable, I wish I was comfortable,
'Cause I could show you loveable and sit another hour with you. (I could show you)
And sit another hour with you. (I could show you)
And sit another hour with you. (I could show you)
And sit another hour with you. (I could show you)
And sit another hour with..
song performed by by Goldfinger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her final hour
You may no it.
Or you may not want to see.
But her final hour is near.
She'd been screaming for your help.
Asking for help for so long.
All her screaming fell upon deaf ears.
Within her final hour.
She belived she had no other choice.
But to go out of the world this way.
She just couldnt deal with one more day.
Her final hour now has come and gone.
Her family get that knock on the door.
Sorry but we've got bad news.
All they can do is scream why.
Why Amy why do it.
As they go to identify the body.
All they can do is hope and pray.
They pray its all a mistake.
When they see its her.
They brake down.
It was no mistake.
They wonder just what the hell was she thinking.
How could we not of known.
In the morning the pray and hope.
It was just a bad dream.
But of course it was no dream.
She really had gone.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Lost And Found
You know the question, find the answer
Stirring deep within your mind
Don't Have to Promise, You have a reason
For what it is you need to find
I was searching, until I found it
And I saw it in you
It seems so real, but I can feel me
Getting closer to you
If clocks could stop, time wouldn't waste
And I could tell you once more
That we are running, without eachother
There's not much to live for
I tried to find, the side you hide,
The side that pushes me away,
You're standing close so, I can tell you
That I wish you would stay
I wouldn't know myself
I'm lost without you here
If you could see my side
I will wait for you, no matter what you do
Cause you're a part of me now
We will see this through
Go on to something new
We were lost but now we're found
As days go by, you're fading faster
Looking for something new
It's hard to notice, you're looking past me
When I'm right within your view
I wouldn't know myself
I'm lost without you here
If you could see my side
I will wait for you, no matter what you do
Cause you're a part of me now
We will see this through
Go on to something new
We were lost but now we're found
It's been a bumpy road
I'll try to carry your load
I'll try to understand
Your fate is in your hands
If you could see my side
I wouldn't know myself
I'm lost without you here
If you could see my side
I will wait for you no matter what you do
Cause you're a part of me now
We will see this through
Go on to something new
We were lost but now we're found
We were lost and now we're found
song performed by by 1208
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lunch Break: Peak Hour
I see it all through my window it seems
Never failing like millions of bees
All that is wrong
No time will be won
All they need to do-o-o-o
What can be done?
Peak hour, peak hour, peak hour
Minds are subject to what should be done
Problem solved, time cannot be won
One hour a day
One hour at night
Sees crowds of people
All meant for flight
Peak hour, peak hour, peak hour
It makes me want to run out and tell them
Theyve got time
Take a step back out
And look in at their debt
And their time
Minds are subject to what should be done
Problem solved, time cannot be won
One hour a day
One hour at night
Sees crowds of people
All meant for flight
Peak hour, peak hour, peak hour
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Find Time To Experience Silence
silence
occurs not
in long bursts
silence
occurs not
in measured intervals
silence
is not happening
in counting seconds passage
half an hour
an hour embodied
in still motionless meditation
access
pure potentuality
in dimensions of silence
meditate
concentrated mind
is empty devoid of thought
aid
mental
spiritual perception
cast aside
turmoil thought fever
find time to experience silence
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Calendars and clocks exist to measure time, but that signifies little because we all know that an hour can seem as eternity or pass in a flash, according to how we spend it.
quote by Michael Ende
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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