 Poetry: September 25, 2024 Issue [#12760] |
This week: Time or Timing Edited by: Fyn-elf  
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Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind. ~~Nathaniel Hawthorne
The two most powerful warriors are patience and time. ~~Leo Tolstoy
The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough. ~~Rabindranath Tagore
The time for action is now. It’s never too late to do something. ~~Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Yesterday's the past, tomorrow's the future, but today is a gift. That's why it's called the present. ~~Bil Keane
Time moves in one direction, memory in another. ~~William Gibson
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Long, long ago
in the back and back and back times,
when a summer's day stretched to infinity
and there always was enough time to finish the book
or climb that tree or
simply
do nothing at all
for hours on end
and then, just for the fun of it--
do it all again.
Long, long ago
in the way back times,
when summer's vacation stretched to infinity
and there always were new adventures on the horizon
or new paths to tread or
to simply
do nothing at all
for days on end
and then wake up one morning and
do it all again.
Less long ago
when the kids were small
summer vacations went on forever
as laundry doubled and the eyes in the back of my head
worked overtime. There was no time
for me to do nothing at all.
Let alone, want to
do it all again.
And yet, those times stretched out
and the days passed slow and languorous
with picnics beneath their special tree,
their learning to swim and fly kites,
and finding new places to hide kittens in their rooms.
And then wake up one morning
and college loomed and then another left for basic training.
Time compacted, twisted on itself and still
managed to stretch out to infinity
awaiting letters from overseas, or sporadic emails home.
Was it only yesterday (?) that weddings flowered
and grandchildren ran racing to the favored tree--but no.
Too fast, they too are grown and off and gone
in their own chases. Doing some things again and
then the learning of wheres and when.
September most over and what happened to summer days
stretching out to infinity? I missed Summer, somehow,
as it flew past without even an ice cream cone or a wander
to the lake. I wonder where it went,
and those days of back and back and back. Seems like
yesterday we were watching the trees green up with spring
and yet the sugar maples are now tinged in scarlet.
Those infinite days of summer, those back and backs
over sixty years ago. The time ahead no longer
feels, or is, infinite. The immortal child hidden now
in the depths of doctor's appointments and a nagging hip.
A life has spiraled by. A busy life, for sure--
one full of adventures and laughter. Some days I long
for the days back beyond. And yet, I found myself yesterday morning
ignoring to-do lists, laundry and figuring out what's for dinner.
Instead, I sat beneath the maple tree,
licked at an ice cream cone and wrote a poem.
Because I shall blink and be putting a log on the fire
and wrapping presents or, perhaps, picking lilacs or daffodils.
Because now, when time clicks louder by,
and eons have condensed to years or months perhaps, and
ahead is far less than what is behind,
I try to grab on and hold the minutes, to not let them spill
in the grass lost in the underbrush.
I do what I must and do more of the 'just because'
and then, some mornings like this one,
I repeat yesterday and do it all again.
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JCosmos   says: Thanks for sharing your reflections and the poems you selected which I have reviewed.
That is wonderful! *big grin*
Monty  writes: We have lived different lives but thoughts much the same. Thank you for the highlight and a fine N/L
Thank YOU!
Kåre เลียม Enga  comments: I enjoyed the poems you chose. There are poets (some new-to-me0) here who are easily overlooked. I had read Elycia's poem before but at an earlier stage. I consider Tupac Shakur a poet; so, that was a nice inclusion.
*yay!*
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