Never Enough Time

Never Enough Time

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
Fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way
Kicking around words until you’ve found just the right sound
Then wait for a prompt or something to show you the way
Tired of thinking, getting nowhere – write all day and show no gain
You realize you’ve gone too long and you’ve killed too much time today
Then all at once you find ten hours have got behind you
If you don’t get this poem done, you’ll miss out on the fun

With each word spun you hope you’ll get done – that’s your thinking
Jot your words down, as you hope somehow they make sense
The words sound the same in a relative way, but you soldier
On as you write, long, long into the night
Every minute getting shorter, hope you don’t run out of time
Words that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation – it’s done, come what may
The time is gone, the poem is over, thought I’d something more to say

Starting over again.
I’ll try to keep up if I can
And when I’m done here, cold and tired
It’s good to know my computer is wired
Far away across the world
Other poets write their words
Join me to participate
In Global Poetry Writing Month

This poem is off prompt for Day 16 at I was running out of time as the day wore on, so I wrote this after dinner – with apologies to Roger Waters and Pink Floyd (Time).

Ken G.

~ Day 16 ~

Image source: Wikimedia Commons – cornice of Imperial palace on The Palatine Hill in Rome

The Obvious Truth ~ inspired by Disciple’s Dilemma (Tritina)

The Obvious Truth

It wasn’t till I looked
that I finally saw
the truism in your words.

For hidden in your words,
discovered when I looked,
there was a welcome saw.

Socially distant, I saw,
there within your words,
the answer, once I looked.

Overlooked, until I saw your words: I’ve got nothing but time.

If anyone can have fun with a poetry form it’s Ron. Lavalette, and, in so doing, offer further tritina inspiration.

Scrambled, Not Fried

No, it’s cool; I can wait.
I’ve got nothing but time…..

As far as I can see
it’ll be worth the wait
(at least this time).

I mean, last time
I couldn’t get you to see;
but now…um…I can wait

No. It can’t wait. Time’s up!  See, dammit!!! See!!!


My blogger friend Ken Gierke (rivrvlogr) introduced me to the TRITINA form, which uses repeated end words in three tercets as follows: ABC / CAB / BCA and a closing line that includes all 3: ABC.  You can read about the form at The Poets CollectiveHERE, and you can see Ken’s Tritina, The Color of Rain, HERE.

Thanks, Ken!

View original post

countless seasons pass

countless seasons pass

countless seasons pass
drawing to the end of life
fading like flowers
worthy man has few worries
rewarded with endless joy

The challenge for Carpe Diem Weekend Meditation #51 Tagore’s “Endless Time”
is to capture the essence of a verse by Rabindranath Tagore in a haiku or tanka.

Endless Time

Time is endless in thy hands, my lord.
There is none to count thy minutes.

Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers.
Thou knowest how to wait.

Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.

We have no time to lose,
and having no time we must scramble for a chance.
We are too poor to be late.

And thus it is that time goes by
while I give it to every querulous man who claims it,
and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last.

At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut;
but I find that yet there is time.

© Rabindranath Tagore

petals drifting down – fusion troiku

The prompt for Carpe Diem Weekend Meditation #37 Troiku Challenge “Time” starts with two haiku by Chèvrefeuille to be used to create a “fusion” haiku, which is then to be the base to create a troiku.

perpetual snow
reflects the sunlight –
I dream of a nude beach

through tears
cherry blossoms scattered
by the breeze

               © Chèvrefeuille

petals drifting down
breeze lifting pink and white flakes
memories of snow

petals drifting down_1a

petals drifting down

petals drifting down
cherry blossom festival
celebrating life

breeze lifting pink and white flakes
a dance held before our eyes
warm weather arrives

memories of snow
fading in brilliant sunlight
time will not stand still

petals falling down_2a

A troiku is three haiku, with each of the three lines from a suggested haiku as the first line of each haiku in the troiku. It’s not always possible to have a 5-7-5 format in the second haiku, due to the limitations of the suggested haiku. The name of the form is derived from “troika,” a sled or carriage drawn by three horses harnessed side-by-side, an iconic symbol of Imperial Russia.


Image sources: (troika)

Sirens of Time

A mistake I’ll make with an incomplete poem is saving it without any notes regarding its source or inspiration. That may be because I’ll plan to finish it as soon as the next day, but it presents a problem when I discover a draft weeks or months later. I have no idea what started the line of thinking for this poem three weeks ago. Most likely a photo – NASA, perhaps – or even a prompt led me to the second stanza. I have a vague memory of a distinctive blue, but that’s it, so I stayed with colors. And since I’ve been inspired by photos from APOD lately, I went back to March 24th to find this photo to help me with that. (btw… I can’t help seeing the face of a petulant child in this photo – to the right – so who knows what ideas that might spur.)

Sirens of Time

You can’t ignore
the violet of time misspent
haunting you, refusing to fade.

Or the cache of unspent
time taunting you
with its blue luminescence,

while pending mistakes loom
in infrared, shadowless,
without warning.

Closing your eyes
to shut them out
is futile, stars appearing

on your lids pressed tight,
their hues singing to you
across time.

The optional prompt for Day 20 of National/Global Poetry Writing Month is to write a poem that involves rebellion in some way. Since I have no idea what Ken-of-three-weeks-ago was thinking, I’ve finished the poem for him. Let’s pretend that meets the prompt.

NaPoWriMo 2018

framing the years

framing the years

time, the line
we cannot box, never
finding a final corner

passing on to form
the next box
and the next

a snake
with the mind of Escher
defining the vortex

the core of existence
drawn through time
expressed between that line

A response to Kerfe’s January 2018, at method two madness

endless time – Shadorma

Watching Time

endless time
is not an option
as gears mesh
and hands turn
we are faced with a deadline
beyond our control

Eliot, at Along the Interstice, has named this month Shadorma November (ShaNov). This is my ninth shadorma for November, using a photo from my WP Media Library. A shadorma has six lines with no rhyme or meter, except for a syllable structure of 3/5/3/3/7/5.
Photo originally used with the poem Watching Time.

Golden Years ~ haibun

Golden Years.jpg

Golden Years

Etched into the surface of a pocket watch once held by my grandfather, and then his son, a cabin under the shade of a tall tree sits on the bank of a stream. Worn smooth in places, and sitting now in my hand, the gold case speaks of simpler times, its voice carrying across the years, conveying the value of a hard day’s work.

time-treasured heirloom
hands within to mark the time
held within each day

Using voice and watch, this haibun is my response to a challenge from Colleen Chesebro: Colleen’s Weekly #Poetry Challenge No. 50 #Haiku #Tanka #Haibun: VOICE & WATCH.