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(tanka)
_

time is a stealth thief
it pilfers slow and quiet
with a thorough hand

youth is a glorious day
but too soon comes the sunset

_


rob kistner © 2018
A tanka take on time.
And she's still standing there,
On the shore of her memories.
With her lost dreams and forgotten laughs,
With her vanished hope and obliviated time.
With her stolen reminisces and extinct days.
In the blink of an eye, the time flew by,
In the flash of an eye, the seventeen year old grew up, why...
And she's still standing there,
Slowly sinking down the earth.
Wondering when did she lose it all.
When did she lose her smile,
When did she lose her mother's hug.
When did she lose her golden days,
When did she lose her life.
When did she turn thirty.
In the blink of an eye, the time flew by,
In the flash of an eye, the seventeen year old grew up, why...
The korean drama 'Thirty but Seventeen' inspired me to write this.
Anya 2d
The broken hunch back
Yellow, wrinkled, and withered with age
Not a single fraction of his formerly radiant youth remaining
Choughs up a few more
Words to throw on a page
Desperate to rack up more followers
...
As a child,
I stared off into the distance,
Dreaming of this and that,
My eyes open,
Yet a dreamworld of places,
Dancing before my sight,
Places far away,
The games I would play thereafter,
Now when we try to daydream,
There is nothing there,
But a longing for something lost to aging.
Arke Sep 8
time is the true criminal
occupying spaces liminal
stealing me away in scraps
hours shared become a trap
changing bodies with seasons
wrinkles forming without reason
I see time when I look in the mirror
every day it draws itself nearer
the softness gone and replaced
features of youth now erased
I can't recognize the edges and lines
every new spot is another sign
the dark circles with blackened eyes
all the features I had memorized
gone, gone, gone
at the end of my dawn
That freshly planted bush
Dries under the afternoon sun
Filtering through an overgrown pear tree
Loaded with an unpicked harvest

Were he younger
He would climb the tree
Were he younger he would
Enter the house and kiss
The woman
Who says she loves him

That freshly planted bush
Might not make it
Through the Fall
Wilting and dying before Winter

Were he younger
The plant would not die
Were he younger
What would the plant become
Eno Sep 5
Yin and yang
And somehow
There’s progress
Slipped in between
Like a debit card
Swiping through the machine
We pay for our sins
And there’s a cost for the sun too
The ultimate sum
Will take us all down
In a final gasp
And a laugh from a clown
It doesn’t matter then
Whether you’ve had a crippling fear from birth of a white painted face, a ginger wig and a fabricated smile
Or if you like to have them around
We’ll only regret the things we didn’t do
A story about the here and now
Can’t be seen in lost and found
Almost like neat and delicate abandoned shreds of paper
Like the uneven ridges of the ghostly bleached white coral reefs
Or the brain juices between the cracks
I can’t compete with time
So turn tail and run
As time ages cheese
And as I grow older
And as my mother grow older
And as my grandparents grow older, under foot
I’m talking about the taboo of me
The taboo of you and me having sex,
without meeting the parents
Without foresight of the complicated future extinction of the
             human race
The lucid dreams,
I keep having only not to remember
The next day or the same night
This is a piece from a much longer poem called "Plenty Words." It's about fighting with time.
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