missing is missing.
And when you miss a person there is no right or left to it
There is no apporpriate time or place
You just do it.
You can't control it. Or anything. I swear,
Missing is missing.
Poems on the topic: time
Poems on the topic “time” on Poets.by.
Eternity
tick. tock.
tick.
tock.
The pendulum swings back and forth
on a day that would never end
If I close my eyes
I could still pretend that she's here
right beside me
Laughing, breathing
but as soon as I open them again
The pain of her death
becomes my reality
and
My
Eternity.
PHASES II
My half moon heart
Knows that healing takes time
Caught
watching tv we're caught
attacked hearts pounding
as the villain
nearly wins
then turn to tea and
crackers again caught, arguing:
was it good
or bad?
and sleep dream caught
in untidy films
dissolved at dawn
by fleeting minutes meals
each hour dissolving
the last hour we are
like actors in and out
of anecdotes
October
O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
To-morrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
To-morrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Time and the Order of Death
Mountain, Wolf, Oak, Bird, Dream, and I
are here together today.
All waiting the decision
that time will announce
about which or who will flee first
from this siege.
We talk, kiss, sing and help each other,
while not forgetting
even for a moment, the deception.
Although the world
has more than enough space
for all of us,
we still feel cramped
and stealthily we pray
for each other’s death.
Then time starts reading its verdict.
Balzac's Ghost and the Crucial Detail
She brought the wrong clothes to Paris,
which wasn't as warm as imagination.
She borrowed a sweater and a coat
from me; also shoes, and the heavy socks
that made them fit. My sweater, especially,
seemed to enjoy having her wear it
at cafés, brasseries, and markets. I
explained all this to Balzac’s ghost
at his residence on Rue Raynouard.
Even though I wasn’t speaking French,
he understood immediately. I went on
to observe that almost everyone almost
everywhere works hard and life slips
past so quickly and then all of a sudden
you’re a ghost listening to a tourist.
Yes, yes, said Balzac’s ghost, but
You and You
You must be you for you to be.
I know: to be the only you
is difficult. You must repeat
the same old strengths and flaws, ensure
quirks and habits stay organized,
a regiment of personhood.
You cannot disappear from you.
When you're asleep, you're sleeping you;
your altered consciousness is altered
you, but you-never-the-less.
It could be worse. I know you can
supply examples of just how.
But still—how strange to have just one
attempt at consciousness in all
of Time, to have to spend it on
one incarnationality—
Fertile Graves
What space
is left
for time to flow freely through
when,
with each stretched instant,
small bits of me
die
falling away
to fill the graves
of unknown heros
and fertilize
wilted flowers?
The Last Six Months
The last six months
should be the fastest.
It is still winter.
New Hampshire
The bear sleeps in the cellar hole, where pine needles
heap over the granite doorstep. And the well brims
with acorns and the broken leaves of the oak tree
which has grown where the anvil rusted in the forge.
When my eyes close, I can see another summer:
a bark of rust grows on the trees of the gas pumps,
and the EAT signs gather like leaves in the shallow
cellars of diners, and a wildcat waits for deer
on the roof of a car. Blacktop buckled by frost
starts goldenrod from the highway. Fat honey bees
meander among raspberries, where a quarrel
of vines crawls into the spilled body of a plane.
Seventy-One
Hear the difference
when there is wind
against a new house
and against an old house.
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
Or try: