Poetry Blogs (2011, Time)
poemagraphic on (1 hour ago)
Sunday 20th November 2011 8:10 am
Gothic storm across the heavens, splitting
the sky in two creating a rip in the fabric
of the sky into which the earth will fall,
doomed and dead into the abyss of time
forever more. We are the generation of the damned,
condemned to be this for the rest of our lives
until we die, by our own hand
or that of Old Father Time or of our enemie...
Tuesday 25th October 2011 4:26 pm
TIME WILL TELL…
I’m a prisoner in my own life, got a deluge of violent images bombarding me. Oh god make it stop, it brings me to my knees. I swear I’m not a violent man; my problems from the past are years old, at times they come and get me at night, for those hours I’m on my own and vulnerable in my bed, the assault continues.
I try to use my common sense to distance myself from...
Thursday 22nd September 2011 11:42 pm
The massive boulder sits in the lea of the moor; it has been here for a million years
and seen everything that has ever happened.
So many tons of stone made up of all of the elements which make up the very
This piece of stone has been here longer than Man himself and it has seen so many years
come and go, from the harsh cold of wi...
Thursday 15th September 2011 1:40 am
The wind waves.
We have hello’s
We rest by the river,
Watching the boats
Glide over glass.
The boys never
Did well at school.
Everything is orange,
And we cannot know
If the sun is bleaching
The leaves, or if
The night washes
Away the colour
Shades of grey....
Friday 5th August 2011 6:27 am
Time is the space between the small places, the moments we call now and here is the place and time of our memory as one together.
I would like to take a falling autumn leaf and press it in the pages of my life, a memory of what was and can never again be, a time that ebbs and flows, ebbs and flows, ebbs and flows, like the dappled sunlit water rippling gently at the edge of the great ...
Sunday 10th July 2011 2:16 am
The Heavy Hands of Time
The clock rarely has hands
For the middle age
It has hands
That starts to spin
And for the old
Time weighs heavy
Like all Burdon
Most of your time
Has now gone
Watching the youth
That your clock
Had no hands
To spin so fast
Wednesday 29th June 2011 4:54 pm
This one is more of a story I guess, a work in progress
Time was getting old,
Things had changed from those early days.
When it was just chaos and confusion
Excitement of not knowing what would happen from moment to moment.
That was a long time ago though
Now the years where starting to catch up on him,
Age was leading to forgetfulness
When you ...
Wednesday 20th April 2011 3:15 pm