POETIC BLOOMINGS

POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.

PROMPT #197 – A TIME FOR EVERY PURPOSE UNDER HEAVEN

Apologies for the late start. And apologies to Sara for leaving her hanging. We tap Ecclesiastes for today’s prompt. I have been obsessed with time of late and the fleeting nature of life and such.

My delay is due to some serious health concerns on the home front. Poetry didn’t seem important at the moment. And so I have been focused on time. There is indeed a time for everything. A time to laugh and cry, a time to live and die… a time for every purpose under heaven. So this week, we’re writing about “time”. There’s pumpkin time, harvest time, Halloween time… as the days grow shorter we notice time’s part in our living. It’s about time we write something about time!

WALT’S POEM(S):

SHE LIKES MANY CLOCKS
(THE MANY FACES OF CLOCKS)

1.

She makes time
for the time she has,
should she run out
she’ll wind herself up,
minute by minute!

2.

How many faces can she see?
How much time will she need?
It isn’t continuum greed!
The lady loves clocks.
They knock her socks off!

3.

Digital is all I command.
I can’t stand analog any longer.
The time is stronger in the dark.

4.

Three in the bedroom,
five in the kitchen,
three in the living room,
and my daughter’s room,
and the computer room.
The bathroom has one
in the shape of a toilet seat.
A shower gift from an aunt.
She doesn’t have the heart
to part with it!

5.

Her internal clock
keeps me awake at night.
Right when I think
I’m on the brink of slumber,
she wakes up alarmed.
I sleep with one eye open.
I know it’s coming!

6.

Does anybody really know what time it is?
Does anybody really care?
~ Chicago

She cares about time.
Rarely ever late.
Great at punctuality.
Even with the fragility of life,
my wife is rarely late.
But, one day we will all be!

7.

Every hour on the hour,
our hours are ours.
Every waking minute
I’m taking stock in our
continuous clock.
Tick-Tock,
tick-tock,
tick

8.

Time is fleeting,
it is eating away our days.
If it stays in sync
I think we’ll be okay!

9.

Passing the time
in her company,
I’m finding my peace
in every numbered face I see.
Is it me or is number seventeen
running a bit slow?

10.

I make time
for the time she has,
should she run out
I’ll fall apart,
minute by minute!
There’s no disgrace
in losing face!

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

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57 thoughts on “PROMPT #197 – A TIME FOR EVERY PURPOSE UNDER HEAVEN

  1.  
     
    WE NEED TO LIVE TODAY

    If we could find the moments we have lost,
    the ones we’ve heaped upon the mound of Time,
    perhaps we’d hold them dear, this once not toss
    them away like bruised fruit from summer vines.

    We need to live Today, not stretch to reach
    Tomorrow yet unborn, the vague Unknown
    when the Present has lessons it must teach.
    If only we’d learn to make them our own!

    Enjoy the seasons, smell the flowers, play
    in winter snow, as in your youth do taste
    the flakes melting on your tongue, those snow days
    out of school, the good laughter you’ve misplaced.

    It’s not too late to put yourself on track,
    to set aside bad habits you must break.
    Joy in life will return if you come back.
    To stay away would be a grave mistake.

    We cannot gather up the passing years.
    They’re locked in vaults no one can find.
    Savor the moment! The laughter and tears.
    Avoid regret; to yourself be kind.

    #

  2. Walt, Loved your medley. Out of all the lines these stood out to me-
    Time is fleeting,
    it is eating away our days.

    Hope all is well!

  3.  
     
    Time is the Essence

    Time is the essence
    Of presence and air
    Past swells, future lessens
    A moment-ous affair

    Nobody can still it
    Or deter its course
    Only One can will it
    This breath by breath force

    Ephemeral treasure
    Appears, disappears
    Pain, passion and pleasure
    Shaping yester-years

    When will it expire?
    This temporal lease
    Hinged to Something Higher
    Someday Time will cease

    …ah, then, in Time’s ending
    Its crux is revealed
    Death’s Awesome Awak’ning
    In thin air concealed

  4.  
     
    Measured Moments

    Closer attention we pay
    to time, swifter it seems
    to fly. Sometimes I sit
    in my favorite writing chair,
    music off, television dark,
    dogs asleep. Hands on
    grandfather clock resound–
    TICK, TICK, TICK. Clicks in
    my head–reminder of passing
    hours, fears of allotted time
    running out.

    There is a theory which claims,
    if you have trouble sleeping,
    ignore clock during those breaks.
    Try it. We are too conditioned
    not to look.

    We measure everything
    by time. How many days
    until the election, until school
    starts, holidays arrive, rain ends,
    next season sails in.

    Difficulty exists when you try
    to live in the moment. Unlike
    a horse with blinders, you see
    those moments moving on.

    (No apologies needed, Walt.)

  5.  
     
    Autumn…

    That careful work of bloom is rent
    Time takes its toll on living things
    It dulls hulled heath and pulls night’s tent
    Across long, pink-glossed evenings

    The aftermath that time begets
    Is scarlet-amber-hunger hued
    Dusk-skylines highlight silhouettes
    Where laughing leaves become unglued

    Into the vat of that and this
    The fruit of what we had is tossed
    The wine of life is what it is
    A vintage pressed with moments lost

    Darling, before these dwindled hours
    Once we were sassy as spring’s breeze
    But now we empathize with flowers
    That bow beneath grief-stricken trees

    We are not foot-loose dreamers now
    But, perhaps here and there we gaze
    With careful envy at the plow
    That tilled a field of yesterdays

  6. It’s a rare quiet night so I’m indulging in a little extra writing-time…writing Time into poetry so someday somewhere someone still young will come to their Place of aha…and understand:)

    Time writes a road-map on our skin
    At night we might trace it with touch
    And wonder at the cool chagrin
    Of its insistent such-and-such
    While we make plans and love and war
    And pine for more than what we hold
    But know we cannot jar the door
    That bars us from yesterday’s gold
    And so we go from where we were
    To where we are; half-glad, half vexed
    The law of clockwork does not ere
    Yet tells nothing of what is next
    While we, with looking back surmise
    That not much stays the same for long
    And so we strain with hungry eyes
    Toward the dawn of a new song
    Because time’s fast-forward affair
    Though it never alters its pace
    Since first it sipped its draught of air
    Can still surprise the human race

  7. William Preston on said:

     
     
    DIFFERENT CLOCKS

    In youth, the urge to meet and mate
    was the crux of his prime;
    he was impatient, could not wait
    for the drizzle of time.

    But that turned different as he aged,
    when to wait was a crime;
    then, as he died, he he cursed and raged
    at the torrent of time.

  8.  
     
    DON’T YOU TELL ME NO

    It’s too easy
    waving a hand down
    at all life’s bugaboos
    or rolling your eyes
    as if what I say
    just can’t or won’t
    be done
    in your lifetime.

    Listen up.
    Life’s a challenge
    only fools reject.
    It’s time to put on
    your big-boy pants
    and get to work.
    Don’t you tell me no;
    don’t you walk away.

    Don’t you join the herd
    and bury your thick skull
    in sand and let time
    race by without you.
    Roll up your sleeves.
    Put in your two cents.
    Speak up; it’s time.
    Put up your dukes and fight

    #

  9. William Preston on said:

     
     
    MEASURES

    A digital clock fits a football game,
    for they both loose demands;
    but baseball lets me come home again,
    like a clock that has hands.

  10.  
     
    Ten/Three

    Dark of the Monday morning moon
    I can no more sleep than fly.
    Open the window and listen for signs.
    A solitary coyote; trucks
    on the invisible highway
    restoring lost time.

  11.  
     
    A Scrap of Time

    I am surrounded
    by clocks day and night.
    This strange state
    that I’m in. This time.
    Every scrap of it
    is stone blind and dumb.
    Its hustle. Its bustle.
    A shuffle moving on.
    I once had
    an abundance of it.
    Now it’s just scraps.

  12. connielpeters on said:

     
     
    Time

    T ime ticks away
    I ncessantly, persistently
    M inutes, hours, days, weeks, years till the
    E nd. Then like fireworks burst in a night sky…timelessness.

  13. connielpeters on said:

     
     
    Clocks

    Longcase
    Mantel
    Cuckoo
    Lantern
    No matter how grand,
    decorative, clever
    or charming, they are not
    the time machines
    we wish them to be.

  14. Earl Parsons on said:

     
     
    11:59 PM

    The last minute
    Most of the time unknown
    Unexpected
    Uninvited
    Unwanted
    Yet it rolls around

    The last minute
    Right before the lights go out
    The eyes close
    The heart stops
    The brain shuts down
    At the midnight
    Of life

    11:59 PM
    If we only knew the time
    We’d have a chance to prepare
    To look back on our lives
    To right what we did wrong
    To say our goodbyes
    And get right with God
    Before midnight

    11:59 PM
    Tick tock
    Tick tock
    Tick tock
    Tick tock

    11:59 PM
    Is it nearly the end
    Or nearly the beginning
    Of forever
    Time’s up

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