Long moments of time
spent looking off
into the
distance,
content
until the time
is hunted down
like buffalo–
temporary wall mounts
nowhere near the majestic
reality roaming free before
Tag: time
The Choicest Hours
If you feel that you must choose
then please: do not choose me.
I don’t think that I could live
with that fact willingly.
Don’t put a bell on the grave
of these–our memories–
let time and worms be fattened
upon its treasury.
If you should think on this, well,
the notion disabuse.
Leave it behind. Go forward
with all that you did choose.
Again with the Noise
I reckon I wouldn’t change too much in my life
even if there are armies of skeletons
rattling and raving
behind the closet door.
I could hush the noise, perhaps,
but the utter silence always kills me.
Would I be an empty shell as they are
or would a marionette
be a more apt description?
I wouldn’t change the past, I suppose,
I couldn’t if I tried
but the noise
and the lack thereof
sure beg me to.
Dancing in Utopia
Back and forth, this rocking chair
has one leg in the past,
dancing in utopia
of days that didn’t last.
One leg still remains right here
but it presents the now
which looks above and ahead
the sweat upon the brow.
Now, I can’t tell the future
but I can tell you this,
work or rocking chairs or dance–
with you it’s always bliss.
It Falls In Place Over Time
Words are sand in the hourglass–
still, stagnant–
waiting and begging
for you crafter of tales
to turn the glass
again
A Rhyme Is Seldom New
What went right was what went wrong,
saw notes but never heard the song
and it was playing all along–
your timeless love, no rhyme
Learn(ing)
. . .
then suddenly
it starts to make sense
it’s all over now
there’s no recompense
time didn’t stop
the world kept turning
and hearts can still break
still, that one takes learning
. . .
After All This Time
The lowest-flying dreams
bounce back off the atmosphere
into the vastness of space,
on course for collision
with everything in the universe.
I try to live in the moment
absent of such fanciful dreams
but I can’t help but smile
when I hold you close–
there’s stardust
in your touch.
The Point of No Return
To forget the sins of the past
is folly
all present things considered–
like where would we be?
what would we know?
who would we know?
Wouldn’t dare leave that
to chance or fate,
sun, moon, or stars.
You think that I’m a fool
but we’re both standing here now.
So now I must know:
did I forget something
or did you?
Happy Hour
The history tomorrow
is scattered moments today
carried off in a whirlwind
of future imaginations,
shaken, not stirred
into a flavored concoction
too bitter or too sweet
to drink;
the present and coming storms
and the twisting winds
of yesterday’s thoughts
bring rains to
keep the drink
full to its brim.
The Unnecessary Blog 