The shifting in the woods,
when the sun rocks itself to sleep,
and the rainy song beats softly on the shingles,
I fall fast into a dream.
The moon raised high,
like a self righteous balloon,
and the tree looms over,
like a shadow that could.
My heart tugs like a rope,
as I climb and Climb,
I swim into the ocean
of tears that all have cried.
The souls that surround me,
lift me up to the stars,
I reach out and feel,
what I thought was too far.
The blanket pulled tight,
I stare at the clocks,
that swirl and swim,
some in the light,
some live in the dark.
I can tell this is normal,
as the man playing golf looks around,
and the ground changes,
like a gold and orange cloud.
The hard grass and gentle breeze,
makes me slip unto my knees,
and I know,
that this is where I will stay,
forever and always,
in this dream,
swimming far, far away.
But I can't stay here forever,
there is work to be done,
as the clocks tick and chime,
I realize that this is all stretching out of my mind.
The cedar oak,
that has been used for my desk,
speaks to me like I can hear it,
but the only thing I hear ,
is everything but the rest.
Sometimes you want to hide,
but without success you fail,
and when you know its to late,
you stab like an eel.
The clocks that turn the lives,
we see and meet every day,
is one that turns your own,
in such bad and miraculous ways.
Pleased to know your love,
has asked your hand in marriage
you Pray to your God for what he gave
then the alarm clocks yelps
to awaken the day.
You arise from the dream,
and nearly cry,
today is the day you would rather sleep and die.
But the feeling of arrival,
stings long and sharp,
and you have to wait,
for God to send signs,
that the clocks are ticking,
and are waiting for the time.
Author notes
Written May 20th, 2006
What did you think
Comments
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What is Time?
Time is a creation of the mind.
It is our measurement of objects in motion.
The earth's rotation and orbit defined
As the standard for time in our notion.
Time is not a thing in itself.
But the ordered forms of all movement in nature.
Summarized by the clock on the shelf,
As the second-hand turns we see time for sure.
With the standard for time being the motion of the earth's rotation (days) and orbit of the sun (years), time is our measurement of all of the coordinated motion of everything in the Universe. Everything is in motion and goes through a different process of change. Don't tell me it isn't due to Intelligent Design. Otherwise everything in existence would be chaotic.
Time, as we record it, catalogs the ordered changes everything undergoes.
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Those first four lines:
The shifting in the woods,
when the sun rocks itself to sleep,
and the rainy song beats softly on the shingles,
I fall fast into a dream.
caught my attention. I loved how you started out, and the ending, but the middle didn't seem as special. Overall though I REALLY liked this
beautiful!
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Wonderfully poetic, and beautifully crafted!!
Wow, this was a wonderfully, beautifully descriptive poem. I really loved it. It was so bizzare and yet it made me feel like just below the suface, it had a meaning and some great important answer to it. It's just a very wonderfully well put together poem, and you should be proud of yourself for it. This poem stands a very good chance of winning a place in this contest. The best of luck to you.
Observer in awe,
Mysteria -
Stunning
Holy my God. Without doubt this is your best but i said that last time, they keep getting better....oh i love this..It's so descriptive, and true. I think it meant something too, you know? It's just too weird...This is amazing work, I would tell you to enter my contest with it but it woulndt be fair cuz i know you personally. lol. Ah, what can I say? Just let the time tick, my friend...let it tick...~Kali~
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