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deadhead Apr 6
Look at the hourglass.
In the sand, time is limited.
At least, according to a modern analysis.
However, can't the hourglass be flipped endlessly?
Why should a concept be measured in grains of sand, anyway?
Few suffer like the top of the hourglass
Drained by the bottom
Eternally powerless to gravity
Forced to repeat
I dunno quick little one shot
Maya Jan 8
Pieces of the hourglass strikes my skin,
the gold is oozing drip by drip.
The ruby sand crash in my eye.
Wincing in pain,
Now I'm inside.
Sometimes escaping can lead us to a dark path.
As sands flow through
The glass this hour
My will
Stays free
And filled with power

Now is
the time
To act and choose
To plant and sow
No sand -
to lose

Creation comes
As no surprise
For all my
Thoughts
Get crystallized
This is Prosperity Poem 102 at ProsperityPoems.com and you can see it displayed on a beautiful background (copy and paste the link below). https://prosperitypoems.com/delivery102TheHourglass.html
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The Hourglass background was an option for another poem, but wasn't chosen as the winner.  Yet, The Hourglass had such striking symbolism and clarity that I decided to write a poem just for that picture.

We live in an expanding universe.  Seeds grow.  Thoughts grow.  If we plant the right seeds and act in the NOW, then we can manifest more of what we truly desire in life.
Skye Dec 2020
════════════
time is something
so easy to waste
when i spend it
with you.
·
···
··...·
·.··˘.......˘.·.
···..˘..···..·.....··˘.˘.·····.
and it's like nothing
happened at all.
═════════════
© Cori
Ces Dec 2020
Life passes by
Moment by moment
Each minute a grain of sand
In a ceaseless flow inside
This biological hourglass

Time has this peculiarity:
This irreversible absurdity

That to crave for more time
Becomes one's slow undoing
Sagging skin, unsightly wrinkles
Bones turn brittle, breaking
Muscles ****** out of their strength
Atrophied
Eyes failing, perpetual darkness
And the self succumbs to the lull
Of oblivion
The mind: no longer, extinguished
What's left is a husk of what once was
A human being.

Hope then becomes a beacon, a torch
In the middle of a starless night
A burning, warm sense of certainty
Hope, or that stubborn illusion
That happiness is one's lot in life

But time silently persists
Eroding foundations, narratives
Dismantling falsity
Uprooting grand, elaborate conceits
Blind and merciless
Uncaring towards puny human desires
Hope's demise.

Life: a futile struggle against time.

To what end?
George Krokos Nov 2020
It appears that we've reached a point
in time which is called a milestone.
It's evident this isn't an exception
for its passing catches up with us
and no one can move any faster
not that we are running away
from anything when we're
all heading into disaster.
You only have to look
around and see the
real extent of the
problem at hand
that is now just
closing in on
us all from
every side
to stand.
While
it
comes
so close
it can't go
any further
but then has
to turn around
and go the other
way for everyone's
sake and not involve
some type of deception.
If you're wondering about
what's been said or where it's
going all I can say is to hold on
the time's coming for you to see a
familiar sort of shape with the words
expressed meaning its time has run out
and must be reversed in order for it then
to start again in a similar way bottoms up.
_____
Written in October 2020. Inspired by current events and some of the other word art poetry that I've read previously posted on H.P. Thanks for the inspiration.
Grey Jul 2020
It’s
not
death
you
should
be
afraid
of
but
the
timer
it
puts
on
life.
~♥~
7/20/2020
Grey Apr 2020
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
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