Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Grey Jul 20
It’s
not
death
you
should
be
afraid
of
but
the
timer
it
puts
on
life.
~♥~
7/20/2020
Grey Apr 27
I can practically see the sand
Slipping easily through the gap
Between the top of the hourglass
And the bottom.
Our once-forever friendship
Flashes before my eyes,
Its highs, its lows, my everything...
I had heard that good things don't last forever,
But I guess I truly believed that love conquered all.
4/26/2020
Laura Apr 23
Time trickles from my upturned palms
In streams of oil and water
I’ve been trying so intently
To stop it
I haven’t had a moment to spend on anything else

I know that when we meet  
A lifetime will pass in a second
But somehow I’ll revel in the light and the darkness
Like the flickering of rapidly turned pages
Mahil Shaheem Apr 15
“Our love was an hour glass.
Each grain was a memory lived so perfectly and full of love.
Time was seeping through my hands and I didn’t realize it.
As the last grain fell and settled down below, our love stopped.
Everything started falling apart.
In the chaos of the moment It finally dawned on me.
We were dancing in a fairy tale that was fabricated.
But even so I wanted to keep waltzing on the sand with my bare feet and her in my arms.
Sadly I couldn’t dance anymore.
My feet bled and I crumbled as my soul wore out.
I had to face the truth.
Your love was poisonous, toxic some would say.
It Destroyed me from the inside, Making me weak and fragile.
And Love, my dear you ****.“
Only Flesh
by Michael R. Burch

Moonlight in a pale silver rain caresses her cheek.
What she sees are the nights of despair stars endure.
Nothing is questioned, yet the answer seems sure.
Night, inevitably, only seems to end . . .
Flesh is the stuff that does not endure.

The sand begins its passage through narrowing glass
as she sums all things past, and to come.
Only flesh does not last.

Eternally, night and day rise and fall with the sun;
each bright grain, slipping past, will return.
Only flesh fades to ash though unable to burn.
Only flesh does not last.

Only flesh, in the end, makes its bed in brown grass.
Only flesh shivers, frailer than the pale wintry light.
Only flesh seeps in oils that will not ignite.
Only flesh rues its past.
Only flesh.

Keywords/Tags: life, death, flesh, mortality, time, sand, hourglass, ash, loss, night, moonlight, stars, rain, grass, despair
Only Flesh
by Michael R. Burch

Moonlight in a pale silver rain caresses her cheek.
What she sees are the nights of despair stars endure.
Nothing is questioned, yet the answer seems sure.
Night, inevitably, only seems to end . . .
Flesh is the stuff that does not endure.

The sand begins its passage through narrowing glass
as she sums all things past, and to come.
Only flesh does not last.

Eternally, night and day rise and fall with the sun;
each bright grain, slipping past, will return.
Only flesh fades to ash though unable to burn.
Only flesh does not last.

Only flesh, in the end, makes its bed in brown grass.
Only flesh shivers, frailer than the pale wintery light.
Only flesh seeps in oils that will not ignite.
Only flesh rues its past.
Only flesh.

Keywords/Tags: life, death, flesh, mortality, time, sand, hourglass, ash, loss, night, moonlight, stars, rain, grass, despair
We stretch out our hands,
Waiting for salvation.

We watch the dripping sands
Of the hourglass with poignant resignation.

Our society demands
Of us to disregard those in isolation.

But the isolation is the only thing that understands
That this life is really nothing but eternal damnation.
This week has been nothing but stressful, and I'm on the edge of losing my ******* mind.
Ira Desmond Dec 2019
A clock
is not a thing
that shows us the passage of time;

a clock
is a primitive device that moves
at a fixed rate while time passes all around it.

Time
was drawn and quartered
by the clock. It used to be an endless horizon in all directions,

but it was violently
partitioned into a grid system
in order to make it easier for those with power

to control
those without power. Clocks are
perverse. Clocks are capitalism. Clocks

**** nature
without nature’s consent. We rightly complain
about the partitioning and deforestation of wild lands,

of the Amazon,
and yet we are not outraged
at the partitioning and deforestation of time. There is

a reason
why one feels out of sync
with the natural Earth. There is a reason why one

cannot sleep
through the night. There is
a reason why the years feel like they are

slipping away
from us. Time is not
sand in an hourglass. Nor is it an etching demarcating

the position
of a shadow cast by a cone. Nor is it
the rate at which an electrified quartz crystal oscillates.

Rather,
time moves at the speed
of experience. There is simply nothing more

to it:

A morning fog lifts.
A bird lands on a dying tree on the far side of a river.

A frog leaps from a rock and disappears with a quiet splash.
A child dozes off while reading.

The world becomes dark.
A white-hot meteor streaks across a frozen winter sky.
Next page