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Time: A Poem of Changes

Updated on April 23, 2012
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Time

The sun shines and time is
Still water with scarce a ripple
On an endless July afternoon
Where shimmering
Dragonflies hover
With nowhere to go

The rain rains and time is
Whispering, slipping sand
Falling as a million individuals
From a wide place
Through a narrow place
Into another wide place

The clock ticks footsteps
On cobblestone
Midnight streets
Wary of the stranger
Yet assured
Destined

The millstone of the Earth
Grinds the seconds
Into pure white flour
We sculpt into perfect
Little oblong loaves
Fifty or sixty hours per week

Your own heart will tell you
This is true: the sun, the rain
The ticking of the clock
The millstone footsteps of the Earth
Mark the beginning and end
Of you

_____________________________________________

Time is the great illusion. It is the game we sign up for. Here we race against the clock, against age, against the fast motion of harm and the slow motion of gravity and friction, and it seems that every race we lose.

Yet you can't lose a race that you don't run. Don't do it if it's not fun. What do you want of this short, sulky hour upon the stage? What do YOU want? That's what it's about.

This would be poem 18 of 30 for NaPoWriMo 2012.

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    • cleaner3 profile image

      cleaner3 5 years ago from Pueblo, Colorado

      very nice poetry, you have a unique style of writing your poems. i like the philosophical aftermath that accompanys the top poem . very nice.

    • Rosemay50 profile image

      Rosemary Sadler 5 years ago from Hawkes Bay - NewZealand

      Interesting poem

    • Tom Rubenoff profile image
      Author

      Tom Rubenoff 5 years ago from United States

      Thanks, Cleaner and Rosemay! I like the term, philosophical aftermath - as happens so much in life. It is a poem waiting to happen.

    • Angelo52 profile image

      Angelo52 5 years ago from Central Florida

      Good poem. In the after words you state "time is the game we sign up for." However, none of us had a choice but to become part of time once our parents conceived us. Out choice then was what we did with our time once we left the influence of our parents and became ourselves. voted up +

    • Deborah Brooks profile image

      Deborah Brooks Langford 5 years ago from Brownsville,TX

      Your right you can win a race that you don't run.. wonderful poem

      voted up and sharing

      Debbie

    • always exploring profile image

      Ruby Jean Fuller 5 years ago from Southern Illinois

      This is a wonderful expedition on the road we call life. One hardly realizes the time spent until the end is near. Your thoughts causes one to ponder..

    • Phil Plasma profile image

      Phil Plasma 5 years ago from Montreal, Quebec

      'the clock ticks footsteps' is a beautiful word combination. Nice job on this time analysis piece.

    • Tom Rubenoff profile image
      Author

      Tom Rubenoff 5 years ago from United States

      I love your comment, Angelo. It is all about choices here.

      Thank you, Debbie!

      Expedition - yes, Ruby, it feels very much like an expedition or a safari. :)

      Thank you, Phil!

    • Joy56 profile image

      Joy56 4 years ago

      oh my, I so loved this. I have not really read are attempted to write any poetry for some time, but this stirs something within....... ahhhh I so need a muse ment.

    • Tom Rubenoff profile image
      Author

      Tom Rubenoff 4 years ago from United States

      Very nice. :)

      Thank you!

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