Poetry Monday: Time Always Leaves but Never Goes Away

And then I arrived – 
I don’t know how I got there
Or where I came from
But I was there

Teacups melted time away
Drinkers mumbled some nonsense
A girl spun round and round
Or was she dancing – 
A tree grew from the face
With trinkets hanging and dangling – 
A rodent or some such looked my way

“What are you doing?”

“I’m thinking.” Said I.

“Why would you do an awful thing like that?”

I didn’t answer – 
The girl stopped spinning
She looked up toward the tree
Then she looked at me
A tree arm gently raised her up
And she became a dangling trinket
The rodent spoke again

“I never said that, and you know it.”

Time melted into pools of paint
So many colors – 
The rodent and the trinkets didn’t notice
Pools of paint climbed up everything
The things melted as time had
The face from which the tree grew
Had gone with time – 
It was the face of time

Only I remained
Pools of paint crawling toward me – 
Where had time gone

From the poetry collection Cats, Coffee, Catharsis. Inspired by the paintings for “Alice in Wonderland” by Salvador Dali. Click here to see them all.

Mad Tea Party by Salvador Dali

Throwback Thursday Poetry: Time is a Tragic Jester

time is a tragic jester
an immortal with no life
while with the lesser beings
he is something to be craved
but to the eternal ones
he is nothing but a slave
though he may serve his purpose
he is not sure why he does
he continues turning sands
given to him to control
how he can escape his hell
nobody will ever know
time is a tragic jester
with no life to call his own

Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry. Based on the visual work below found on DeviantArt.com.

‘Time Is A Tragic Jester’ revise by charquill

Flashback Friday Poetry: A Lost Concept of Time

days speed by with the quickness of time
many weeks pass but it’s just now tomorrow
it’s been so long since i’ve seen or heard from you
a few hours at the most; at the least just a few
time creeps by with the patience of death
but my patience is dwindling faster than the rest
left behind again it seems
or do i not see what is right in front of me
i search for a sign that i cannot see
i’ve lost all concept of time; i’m stuck here with me

Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.