Tag Archives: time

Making It

stars 2
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

‘Well, you’re just going to have to make time’ ~ my Mother (and everyone else’s)
 
 

Ridiculous.
 

Time’s a tunnel, isn’t it?
With an escalator running through it;
the two most important events
firmly positioned at either end,
a set distance apart.
 

She was asking the impossible –
to make time
 

as if it could be crocheted;
dozens of multi-coloured minutes
neatly stitched together
 

or three perfect seconds
separated
and whisked
until bigger (and fluffier)
than the sum of its parts.
 

Perhaps she meant for me
to garner millennia
from the skies;
 

meteor showers
whose components
would barely last a moment
but collectively
would leave an imprint
on the retina.
 

She was asking the impossible –
to make time
 

but I took the stairs anyway
 

so that I could sit on the roof
under a soft blanket of stars
and consider her request
 

whilst lingering over my meringue.
 
 

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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

Tempus Fugit


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Crepuscular nuance rides
narrow gauge; consumptive
curse of vagrant verse
leaves core scraped
and roots raked.
 

Quotidian drags out grey
doldrum days, till tempus
flees along the breeze.
Chronophage;
soothe, assuage.
 
 

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Filed under Free Verse

Curse


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

We curse the wretched hour glass that nails life to the floor,
sifting time with ticktock rhyme as grain by grain we ripen.
Fast-beat with wrists and fettered fists on pedagogy’s door,
beg the grown-ups ‘let us in’ till gap begins to widen.
 

The race to reach maturity – a noisy quick-sand bore,
hollering from child to bride as growth becomes compulsion.
Half-hitch a ride on crimson tide, a monthly underscore,
 

pre-pubescent budding breasts; first training bra propulsion.
Hot hormone highs that dampen thighs and leave us wanting more,
chronologic ticktimebomb an exponential function.
 

The tipping point comes all too soon, impatient youth impugns
years gone by, blink of an eye; no chance now of reversal.
As sand runs fast through aging glass and shape-shifts into dunes,
echoes loud amid the shrouds – child that was no rehearsal.
 
 
 

The form:
 

This is the Sonnet version of Stress Matrix Dectet/Stress Checkerboard Stanza – developed by Luke Prater
 

14 lines, 14 syllables per line – aBaB cDc DcD eF eF
 

(I’ve taken a bit of a liberty with the rhyme scheme and carried the ‘a’ rhyme through so this one is actually
aBaB aCa CaC dEdE)
 

where lowercase are iambic heptameter (7 beats/stresses per line), and uppercase trochaic heptameter. This yields a perfect ‘checkerboard’ of stressed and unstressed syllables (14 x 14, equaling 196 syllables).
 

Depending on where the Volta arrives (the ‘turn’ – resolution, or at least, change in tone, crucial aspect to a sonnet), there are 3 different stanza layouts (the rhyme-scheme stays the same).
 

If the turn comes after the first eight lines, as it does in Italian Sonnets, the layout is aBa BcDcD cDe FeF. If it comes after line ten, then it’s aBaB cDc DcD eFeF (same as English but ending on a quatrain rather than the two couplets).
 
 

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Filed under Stress Matrix Sonnet

Patient

Seconds stack up;
roll call soldiers
standing in line –
time,
to be ticked off
the list
 

tick
 

tick
 

tick
 

shuffling feet,
weighed down
by waiting,
worn down
by aching,
faking interest
 

tick
 

tick
 

tick
 

anticipating moment
conscription will cease,
de-mob,
release
finally
into peace
 

tick
 

tick
 

fucking tick
 

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Filed under Free Verse, Uncategorized

Chronophage


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The distinction between past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion~ Albert Einstein

 

Above concentric circles sits the pick-pocket of time;
grim, malicious grasshopper, devouring every second.
Each hour is marked by clanking chain in place of pealing chime,
golden eyelets blinking, unsuspecting future beckoned.
 

Mechanical escapement claws its way with steady tread,
creature’s constant motion eats up minutes; won’t augment them.
Though hypnotized by blood-red eyes, observers filled with dread;
 

twitching eyelid’s inward turn serves only to torment them.
As pendulum stops-stutters-starts; lights lag then race ahead;
life’s irregularities reflected in momentum.
 

Though insect never falters in persistent eerie grind,
Albert’s sound advice – go on and plunder timeless foundries.
Let go illusion’s obstacles, let waiver sit unsigned;
time quick-steps for those that choose to live inside its bound’ries.
 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corpus_Clock
 

For Paula Belli whose picture of the Corpus Clock was the spark of inspiration for this piece.
 

The form:
 

This is the Sonnet version of Stress Matrix Dectet/Stress Checkerboard Stanza – developed by Luke Prater
 

14 lines, 14 syllables per line – aBaB cDc DcD eF eF 
 

where lowercase are iambic heptameter (7 beats/stresses per line), and uppercase trochaic heptameter. This yields a perfect ‘checkerboard’ of stressed and unstressed syllables (14 x 14, equaling 196 syllables). <
 

Depending on where the Volta arrives (the ‘turn’ – resolution, or at least, change in tone, crucial aspect to a sonnet), there are 3 different stanza layouts (the rhyme-scheme stays the same).
 

If the turn comes after the first eight lines, as it does in Italian Sonnets, the layout is aBa BcDcD cDe FeF. If it comes after line ten (unique!), then it’s aBaB cDc DcD eFeF (same as English but ending on a quatrain rather than the two couplets).

12 Comments

Filed under Stress Matrix Sonnet

Halcyon

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The ‘futures’ boys
don’t interest me
with their tax-free handshakes,
their couldbewouldbemaybes,
their trading floor predictions
and their ipad-clad Hades.

 

Silence the history books,
what’s past is past,
gilded, steadfast,
locked in, locked down,
shackled to the mast;
what use a regurgitated
last repast?

 

I want here, I want now,
enraptured, captured,
hot heavy molten,
soldered in this moment,
liquid-lost with you
holding me golden.

 

 

 

14 Comments

Filed under Free Verse

Our Glass

 

Was there a clock in the room? I seem to recall
seeing one on the wall, and yet no noise,
no sound of a tick, just the rise and fall
of your chest as we fit, inside
and around, all four feet
on the ground,
while the time
went so
quick.

Still,

no tick

tock

Was there a clock?

 

 

 

 

Posted for the wonderful One Shot Wednesday at the One Stop Poetry blog.

19 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, Uncategorized