Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
B D Caissie Sep 2019
Gazing through the window at generations of flowers in the garden of her long-departed youth.

The pendulum of time passes in consonance with the rocking of her chair until she smiles her last breath.

Andrew Harris Apr 2019
Fleeting thoughts of possibilities
Sometimes are the worst company
Fleeting thoughts of possibilities
Sometimes are all that I need

Why does life feel so fluid
I cannot seem to put my finger on
What is right and what is wrong
But I’m just another soul rewriting the song

What can give life can ****
Hell, dehydration and drowning
It’s absolutely insane the way the pendulum swings
All this time while knowing

My compass could point north
But is that my bearing?
Is that the way I am Steering?
With my neck careening...
And my ears without hearing...

I press on,
I move forward,
I don’t stop
I am tenacity
I am raw unfiltered determination
Unsure where to go, but without defecation

I press on
I will figure it out
I always figure it out
Yup, no doubt(...well, maybe a little)
It’s amazing, and terrifying how much things that are beyond your control can impact you... sometimes I feel at the mercy of another... sometimes... I am hurricane
annh Dec 2018
The swing in my heart,
For sometimes I cry
And sometimes I sing.

Yet as much as I'd like
To be cheerful and glad,
There are days when quite often
I'm sorry and sad.

Just as fro can be to
And left can be right,
As high is to low
So dark is to light.

And out is for in
The way up is for down,
Remember a smile's
Just a back-to-front frown.

Yes, what keeps me sane
When the going gets tough,
Is like Yin and Yang
So are smooth times and rough.

The swing in my heart
Is a MARVELLOUS thing,
For sometimes I cry
But sometimes I sing.
Children's verse.
Salmabanu Hatim Oct 2018
I am the cuckoo clock,
Precise,authentic,steadfast  as a rock.
All day long,
Tick tock, tick tock goes my song.
Hung on the wall,
In the main hall,
Tick tock, tick tock, tick,
Not a wink,
My pendulum swings to and fro,
As I view people come and go.
On the dot of the hour,
My cuckoo slides in and out of the door,
Chirps a lovely cuckoo call,
Young and old in the hall,
They cheer all.
I am their cuckoo clock,
A piece of artistic work,
My master's pride,
The family's guide,
To their various routines,
For many many seasons I have been,
On their wall,
In the main hall.
Spiralize Sep 2018
Reflections of the sad soul,
when the shouts are unheard.
From the beauty of the pain within, the skies bleed red.
Water cleanses the body,
the soul is ripped apart though.
Solitude and Isolation is a Pendulum,
as it swings to and fro...
Inspired by a painting by a friend - Gem
Jaden May 2018
this feeling is of a pendulum swinging
side                           to                         side
as if it cannot seem to make up it's mind.
the feeling tends to contradict itself by                                  

dreaming of
self discovery                  
                                       and longing for
                                       self destruction.

thought of not understanding it's truth
has been locked up in the             back
simply because never knowing why is
emotions have never been something that i can easily understand for pretty much as long as i can remember.
Kewayne Wadley Mar 2018
When I walked in I didn't know what to expect.
Each room highlighted in light.
A oral tradition. To make ourselves at home upon request.
In reciprocation we do.
The rooms we gather in, the ones we walk past.
The objects we fill to take up space.
The rooms a clear reflection of Spring.
The molding painted white.
I was told that some rooms are not to be visited.
Everything has it's season and this isn't one of them.
Placing blame on the rooms.
I want to explore them most I said.
The ones that go unseen.
The things we rarely shine light to.
The places films of dust continue to grow.
These are some of the best places to go.
The beauty of things we walk past day to day.
The smile unknown destinations can bring.
Cultivating the ideas we keep cluttered.
Gasping for air.
These are the rooms I want to explore most.
The parts of you that you strictly keep to yourself.
Only when you are comfortable to share these rooms with me.
To kiss the floor with our feet.
To dwell in the past staring into our future.
We are the pendulums trapped inside the clock
Sethnicity Mar 2018
Those who choose to dig deeper
must be willing to accept the dirt as truth
and the mess as proof
The only resolve is sharing tha loot
with those who seek not to be aloof  
those who can recycle  
improve reuse
Otherwise your pursuit becomes futile and vanity in roots
That holds you trapped in a place that never bore fruit.

Like a Pirate
Tied to a ship
who's sunken into
frozen winter drifts
Yelling at everyone who passes by
Uneffected Bitter Colder Less Productive
An Ivory Tusk Burned in private on public telivision
What is gained in the retelling and redistribution of historic ills should always be measured by the need and desire to cultivate future enrichment and wisdom from the source not fashioned into a rusted sword to beheld in anger and revenge...
That is to say the value in revitalizing history is never found in giving it teeth but giving it light and understanding.
George Krokos Feb 2018
The pendulum of time swings back and forth
and touches all those who regard it’s worth.
There isn’t any indication of when it will stop
because none can foretell that time of the clock.

It includes all living creatures that move along
and there are some who recall it with a song.
In so many ways they’re somehow involved
as they know without it nothing gets resolved.
Written early 2017.
Next page