The Hands Of The Clock
when we were young
we do not mind the clock
we are not so sure about
pendulums
we can even mistake the
long for the short hand
or if we mind time
for sometime
it is because we are late
for the dance or the
drinking spree
and then time has a way of
calling our attention
when our hairs starts to
look like seaweeds drying
under the summer
sun
now we are old like tree
shedding off most of its leaves
our twigs are infested with
fungus
and some of the tips of our roots
are rotten
then time begins to have fingernails
scratching our bellies
we begin to grow the seeds of
fear in our palms
our foreheads have furrows
like the pathways of the plow
at night we know how the long hand
runs with speed
it is 2: 30 a.m. and then we switch the
light again
and too confused how
the clocks strikes 4 a.m.
we cannot go back to sleep
as we fall on the chasms of the past
we try to drink a cold glass of
the future
and it begins to have the bitter taste
of the love
unrequited.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Survival Kit
the grass accepts death
of all it has, leaves and roots
its color blends with
the dust and parched mud
cracking surfaces
it also knows to preserve
its species
burying resilient seeds on
the cracks
and when it rains it begins
to grow buds
roots and all and the whole
ground is green again
meanwhile on cracked grounds
where once the pond was
the whiskers of the catfish begin
to wriggle
shedding off mud around its skin
the fish begins to swim
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Time Machine Mind!
Human mind, dreams, vision and imagination
Can transport one forward and backward in time.
Mind is the time machine to go to past and future
But time never goes backward but only forward;
Also, time never goes in circle but only straight!
Recollection of past is possible in the present;
Visualization of future is possible in the present;
But one cannot go to the past or future ever now!
Hour glass can show the time like clock of today
But it cannot bring back the past to reality now
Or bring to our vision the future of world now!
Mind is the time machine that can read history;
Mind is the same machine to see the future too;
But time never goes to the past but only to future!
poem by Ramesh T A
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The Beauty Tree
I see a tree sitting in the stream
flowing past it as the waters gleamed
time twisted and turned the roots ashore
the flowers of the tree of which i adore
falling to the clear water at its floor
keeping the tree buried in the cold water
just like the seeds broken from a poor plotter
a season to come and a season to leave
to the water i will always forever cleave
but as the leaves begin to stray away
the sun shining upon the dieing day
the tree although not so beautiful anymore
begins a new journey upon the midday shore
poem by Branden Aeling
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When The Clocks Go Back
I dread the day, when the clocks go back;
Of daylight hours, there’s now a real lack.
I wish that, like some animals, we could hibernate,
As winter is a time of year, which I don’t highly rate.
At six o’clock, in the summer, it was still really very light,
But the same time, in winter, feels like the dead of night.
Once it gets dark, it suddenly feels really late,
And, these are the days, which I really hate.
There are a few winter events, on which, I’m keen,
Such as, Christmas, Bonfire Night, and Halloween.
But, for me, winter is just a season, to be got through;
It’s hard to keep myself from feeling down and blue.
My system begins to feel rather sluggish and slow,
As everything around me, loses its once golden glow.
Unlike, in the summer, when you feel at your best,
In winter, it’s all too easy, to lose some of your zest.
On dark evenings, it is now more dangerous to roam,
And, if I do, then it means getting a taxi back home.
On long summer evenings, people love to sit outside,
But, in winter, in their homes, they’d much rather hide.
With less daylight hours, there’s an increase in crime;
Unfortunately, for us, it’s a sign of our modern times.
For people, who now go to and from work, in the dark,
It’s no longer safe, to take a short cut through the park.
One of my favourite times of year, is the onset of spring;
A time when my sleepy soul, once more, begins to sing.
Spring is a season, which I really look forward to;
The onslaught of winter, it helps me to pull through.
Winter weather is very often dull and grey,
With persistent, heavy rain, on many a day.
When the weather warms up, I feel on a high:
Glad that the winter has, at last, passed on by.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Long Summer Days
(Justin Hayward)
Long summer days, I keep thinking
What to do with my time
So many ways, I keep sinking
What's to do with my time
Take me back, I don't mind
(Take me back) I've got time
(Take me back) and let me start again
Time hurries by, I keep thinking
What's to do in our time
Don't let it by, just keep thinking
What's to do in our time
Take me back, I don't mind
(Take me back) I've got time
(Take me back) and let me start again
Utopia's within our sight (Utopia)
Don't kick it or we lose it
Though you think the world's too fast
It's that way 'cause we choose it
Automation is the cry (Automation)
Our minds have been forgotten
To understand me, you must try
My thoughts are turning rotten
Oh, please, please
Don't mess it up now for me
Please, please
Don't sit there and condemn me
Please, please, please
Long summer days, I keep thinking
What's to do with my time
So many ways, I keep sinking
What's to do with my time
Take me back, I don't mind
(Take me back) I've got time
(Take me back) and let me start again
Ah, ah, ah, ah long summer days
*************************************************************
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prom Night
This is a murder I wrote
Prom night hearts racing
Anticipating the memories to last a lifetime
But not this time
It was all setup
From the time we bought the tux
No turning back now
I held your hand and walked you in
And now the plan begins
It starts with punch
A drink made just for you
Then a dance
Now you don't stand a chance
It's over now
Your eyes have closed for the last time
I won't cry tonight
Watching you put up a fight
Puts a smile on my face
You were always viewed as a disgrace
poem by Isaac Spradlin
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Fear Not My Love
Fear not my love
Take me back into your heart
Fear not my love
Let us make a fresh start
Fear not my love
The past is behind
Fear not my love
No more doubts in your mind
Fear not my love
Let me give back all I abused
Fear not my love
Perspicuous, lucid, unconfused
Fear not my love
I'll not withhold or reserve
Fear not my love
You shall have all you deserve
Fear not my love
In my arms be secure
Fear not my love
For all time it will endure
Fear not my love
It is yours for the taking
Fear not my love
It is ours for the making
Fear not my love
Seek the future we planned
Fear not my love
Together hand in hand
poem by Michael Ernst
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Swallowing The Seed
swallowing the seed
fear begins to grow
the seed sprouts inside
his belly and roots begin
to travel inside his prostate
down to his bottom
unto his feet
immobilizing him
the seed begins to have
buds and leaves
and twigs and
huge trunks
his eyes shrink on the barks
his nose all gone
there are no signs of the original man
he swallowed the seed of life
that no one dared.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love The Time
Love the time
Love the time
Love the time
You have for you
Love the time you spend outside
Because this nice weather won't last very long
Fall is on its way soon
Love the time
To listen for the song of the birds
This might be the last time
Love the time
You have to reflect on your life
Love the time
You are worshiping God
Love the time that you are discovering your feelings
Love the time that you are learning about yourself
Love the time
Your soul waits in silence for God only
He is your rock and your salvation
Love the time
To dream
Love the time to paint a picture in your mind
Love the time
When you have a positive attitude
Love the time
When you are in the valley of the shadow
You will fear no evil
Because you are with God now
Love the time
Because you belong together with God
Love the time
That you are being yourself
Love the time
That you are moving on
And doing better things to improve your spirit
Love the time that you are gaining your trust back
Love the time that you are gaining self respect
Love the time that you are building your self esteem up
Love the time that you are watching the gold star at night
Love the time that God carried you to solidarity
Love the time that God will bear you up
So that you will not strike your foot against a stone
Love the time that you saw the great light
Because there were people that were sitting in the dark
And you were the lucky one
Love the time that God has opened up the door for you
Love the time that God has given you a chance
Love the time to know that the past is a part of you
Love the time that God is comforting you when you are sad
Love the time when you see writings on the wall
That you can read
Love the time to enjoy your freedom
Love the time when you are flying on the airplane
And looking out through the Airplane window
The sunset in the sky
Love the time when you sing out the blues
Love the time
Love the time
Love the time
Love the time
Love the time
Love the time
Love the time that God will set you free
Love the time when the sun will rise early in the morning in the summer
Love the time
Love the time
Love the time
Love the time to know that age is no barrier to beauty
poem by Aldo Kraas
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My Silence Shall Be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Young
Do.
Do do do do do.
So young, weve discovered. got them so confused.
Dont mind putting the time in. its shocking.
Thats what they all say now when were walking hand in hand
As one, you and i.
Ooh yeah, ooh yeah, you said its timed out
Weve got them hangin on a string.
Theres no time for compromises; we got that good old thing.
So young, so young. (x4)
Its wrong to run for cover. weve got them in a spin.
You dont mind sticking the sticker in. its too late.
Thats what they all say now when were walking hand in hand
As one, you and i.
Chorus.
Do do do do do. do do do.
Chorus, again.
So young, so young.
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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84
my silence shall be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Used To Speak Before The Pulpit
he used to speak before the pulpit using his
robe from Rome and people listened and then
he changed,
time changed him like a season
changing the colors of the leaves
trees adding more rings
snakes molting
men shedding off old skins and growing more hairs
change is the law of everything and everybody
he used to but soon he didn't like it
people do not really mind
they come back to habits that do not die
to sins like sweet chocolates
they begin to love every guilt
they do not believe the penalties handed from the skies
they just live and love and go where the merry makings are
he sees them counting their moneys
the only one that talks now
now he talks to himself and leaves and starts to travel
the long and winding road
away from them all
since then he has waived his right to speak
because it arrives at nothing just the same
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer Chimes and Summer Wines
Listening to the summer chimes,
Of summer sounds of summer time,
Bringing all that nature is,
That shows and sounds like,
Summer chimes,
Chimes of soft winds,
Chimes of soft river streams,
Sounds that say of that time and season,
That summer time sounds so sweet,
It rings the sounds of summer chimes,
With rays of sunlight streaming by,
Summer chimes with summer wines,
Can be the momentum interludes of summer times,
When summer time is to be,
There in natures places,
Full of bloom and hidden places,
Where,
Listening to the summer chimes,
Of summer time,
And sitting and drinking,
A summer wine,
With the summer chimes,
And summer wines,
With summer and its nature sounds,
Bringing out the musical chimes,
Of summer sounds,
Along with summer chance,
And the per chance that evolves,
Bringing summer chimes,
With summer wines,
Of true summer chance,
With love intwined,
And summer wine,
So if per chance,
To meet again,
That evolves and begins,
From summer meets,
Bringing that summer chance,
To summer chimes,
With summer wines,
That begins and lasts,
Within in the hearts of those,
That let per chance happen,
And fall in love,
Then it will continue all year long,
For those that took the chance,
In summer chance,
And let the per chance,
Take it course,
And win,
For love to hear,
The summer chimes,
Sipping summer wine.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Voice Of Reason
I hear that voice calling once again
With visions of yesteryear and rivers of blood they shed
The times have changed but I'm steadfast
For a reign of terror the outcasts
Will be used against themselves through ignorance and lies
And so in hate my numbers grow and soon all the world will know
A twisted universal mind a mind like mine
Back to a time when I was young a father tells an only son
You are the chosen one
And as I grew so did my hate to cleanse the land became my fate
I became the gun
If the child grows knowing only what it's told
Then the man can learn only as his history unfolds
The roots of hatred we don't always see and so are left to grow
Fear begins in ones center and when allowed to flow
Will cast ripples upon still waters destroying all it knows
The disenfranchised will brutalize those who are not the same
The immigrants and infidels will be the pawn in their game
And they will use you against yourself through ignorance and lies
Hear that voice once again tie the borders
We need some order take a stand
So the politicians reach the white man
With loaded words a foot on the bible and rifle in their hands
Return to a time when you were young
When love lit your way
And all your troubles amounted to none
But who could who could say
But still do we really ever understand how we can love the child
But crucify the man
And do we ever really see that
"I could have been him and he could have been me"
Remember a time when you were young
When love cradled the day
And you did not know the difference between right and wrong
So who led who led the way
Now will you be the voice of reason when there's none
Who will who will sing it's song
I will
song performed by by ZeroHour
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer Nights
Winters almost gone,
Oh how Ive waited so long
For summer nights.
When theres magic in the air
And I dont have a care,
All that matters to me
Is that you are here
On summer nights.
Theres a little caf
Where we can hear music play.
They keep the lights turned down low
Its a place where lovers go.
There youll hold me tight and say
Our love will always be this way
On summer nights.
At the end of the day
We can go down to the bay
And together hand in hand
We will walk along the sand
On summer nights.
In our little caf
Well dance the night away
And we know our love will be
Always true eternally.
And when the moon begins to shine
I can see that you are mine
On summer nights.
On summer nights.
On summer nights.
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Can I Sleep?
How can I sleep when the nights are long,
too long to be in bed?
The pull of the pen is calling me,
too many words in my head.
There's not enough time. Why waste it on sleep?
too many things to write.
I hear the words call out to me
too often in the night.
But what care I about the time?
It's the words I care about.
For the body when tired can always sleep
and my thoughts would probably doubt
my sincerity to this purposeful quest
to connect my mind with the page.
I have dedicated my waking hours
too often as I age.
How can I sleep when the nights are long,
too long to be in bed?
That can be left for a future time
when I've nothing left to be said.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give me space, give me time
It is the hands of time that
Heals.let its hands caress
My weary thoughts. So much
Have been lost in my fingers
Slipping away. I walk down
The road now, to freedom.
Hand in hand with the tree
And twigs. Feeling the
Caresses of the leaves
On the road to my freedom.
Give me space. Let my wholeness
Occupy. I need to expand
My choking life. Give me time.
Give me the healing hands
Of time. Let me sleep on its
Palms. I am throwing my
Hands in the air. I want to fly
Now. Sensational. I must.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Smiled And Nodded
'I am losing the freshness of my garden, '
She said.
Staring at me as she reached for my hand.
And anticipating my response.
'This time of the year,
I would begin to smell my roses bloom.'
I smiled and nodded.
And grateful I was to keep my lips sealed.
Because the bush I thought she referred to...
Began to show signs of drying out,
Long before her admission.
'Do you remember how fragrant it use to be?
With just one sniff I was re-energized.'
~Yep!
I remember my addiction to sniffing that freshness.~
'Would you stop it.
You never helped me with the weeding.'
~You're right.
Especially when you stopped,
Softening up the bed.~
'There you go again...
Not paying me any attention.
I am talking about the sweetness of the fragrance.
And you refer to my leg hairs.'
And grateful I was to keep my lips sealed.
Because the bush I thought she referred to...
Began to show signs of drying out,
Long before her admission.
Leg hairs?
~Oh!
So that's how all my razors,
Lost their sharpness.~
'That's 'almost' funny.
You get no 'hees' but a half of a 'ha' with that one.'
~I'm not complaining.
When am I going to get a piece of that? ~
And she removed her hand...
With a daring look.
As if I wasn't up to the challenge.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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