Not everyone can tell time, as time will never listen!
Hearing time tick away, is to waste life‘s every second.
If I knew, what percentage of time could be freed,
just how much time, do I think that I really need?
Do we have the time? Time for this, or time for that?
Can we stop and listen? Do we have time for a chat?
Is time merely a measure, or is it a life giving seed;
is time often your friend, or a prisoner to be freed?
As the sands of time, through an Hour Glass pass;
so too a warm passage of time, turns sand into glass.
Is time always infinite, or is someone having a lend?
The pace never changes, nor do consistencies bend.
If time stands still for no person, that’s dead or alive,
then time is the mother of impatience personified.
The seconds are born and the minutes tick by,
the hours are dwarfed, by light years in the sky.
How curiously timely to take time out, it must be,
a simple nod of my head, and the hours set free.
I yawn, as this poem seems such a waste of my time,
but wait! Time is never wasted. . . It is clearly defined.
Have I lost magic moments, I can never retrieve?
Has time travelled forward, or made me believe?
Just stop! Look at the time, it is slipping away,
my mind and my nerves are beginning to fray.
Why has time passed so quickly, lost so many years?
my fast fading memories, help to hold back the tears.
Is my journey through time a figment or fact?
I look to my SEIKO…..My world is still intact.
Written on the first anniversary of my Father's death
By combining Poetry into a photograph you get POETPICS or PHOTOPOETRY.
A phrase of philosophy integrated into a photograph = PHILOETRY
Donate to the Smith family appeal via the link or buy an A4 / A3 size Glossy ‘Poetpic’
Search for my auto signature © James Irvine (hidden within Poetry Photographs)
See how this and other poems play a part in the Story 'Finding Harvey’, crafting another dimension of creative writing = 3D-Poetry.