white rocks shower down
on this Friday afternoon
they hail with a pound

Time drifts
Moments just pass by
How I long
To grasp time
Bringing it to a standstill
As I struggle
With dreams
At a crossroad
Autumn’s chill
Holds me back
As dreams are
A young one’s game
Opportunities have
Gone away
Dare I pursue
The unexpected paths
That have opened before me
Even if time is
Elusive
Extinguishing
Faster than I’d like
Afraid of making
The wrong choice
Feeling life
Slip through my fingers
As I linger
Feeling
A bit dazed and confused
As the future
Becomes the present
Time drifts
As I stand still
Lost

Kelly Rose
© December 23, 2016

Carried sorrow her brow.
Unnoticeable till now.
Sadness dulls her features.
Misunderstood creature.
Framing within life.
Violent as knife.
Actions less planned.
Make no more stand.
Time for rest.
Deeply guessed.
Pain flows.
Tears show.
Pawn.
Gone.

We seek The Purpose of Life,
Or just some Meaning;
A Philosophy,
As we stare through the formless mists of time.
Yet Existence simply Is,
As is Life:
Wondrous phenomenon
That happens.

We are taught to give each thing a function:
The wheel that rolls us on,
A pen which writes.
But Life is Life
Nothing more.
Generations take turns to live,
Passing on the baton.

Trying to breed ever greater Minds,
We yearn to be Immortal.
Studying those regenerating jellyfish,
The search is on
For The Fountain of Youth.

Yet maybe it’s time to stop trying
To make sense of it all.
Perhaps it’s time to spring into action,
And Get On With It.

Paul Butters

A red rose blossomed
In a forest
And the nightingale drunk
With its fragrance