#slowing
Once my days arrived
with elevated weather,
my thoughts ran ahead of me
like bright dogs loosed from the gate,
dragging morning behind them.
I was wired then —
not by copper or current
but by some old fire in the blood.
Ideas came fast,
speech outran breath,
and sleep stood outside the door
waiting to be invited.
Now the machinery softens.
My hours have become
the pace of shadows crossing a wall.
My grand plans sit quietly
in their chairs by the window,
hands folded,
looking out at rain.
Thoughts no longer race.
They walk.
Sometimes they stop
and forget why they left home.
Evening comes early now,
not on the clock,
but in the bones.
And I have become familiar
with the strange small mercy
of being tired.
Not defeated.
Not broken.
Just a field after harvest,
still under the sky,
still holding the memory
of thunder and wild weather,
while the wind passes over
more gently than before.
May 20
May 20, 2026 at 11:04 PM UTC
As legs hang on rusty hinges
the strides of doorways
lesser long
wisdom crisps its palms
up to the hearths of winter
on walks
Older finds joy
watching little jelly movers
under the snowy leaves
of autumn's fall
There is freedom
in holding back;
experiencing exuberance
perched high in cedar
witnessing the now moments
of a uranian world
from a fifth dimensional view
Knowing that Love
sourced from the heart
affects the observed
just as true.
Jan 6, 2021
Jan 6, 2021 at 5:58 PM UTC
The spreading of wings,
to cover the night of day.
The overbearing clouds,
keeping the sunrise at bay.
All things great, and all things good,
are things by all means, probably should.
Lead to happiness, prosperity, and joy within me,
or a simple contentment, a peace that will be.
Yet no matter what strives,
no matter what comes to be.
The characteristic of things,
is that they all cease to be.
Happiness. Sadness.
All good and bad.
Like the time of midnight,
vanishing in seconds.
Burning the fuels, and pushing the lies,
we strive ceaselessly, towards countless lies.
Of messages of a future we think we understand,
A glimmer of hope which we barely comprehend.
Needlessly striving, continually pursuing,
we arrive at the destination,
burning, smoldering.
Our wayward soul,
all the burns that follow,
and we look upon, to truly behold.
What we see are the joys,
temporary pleasantries,
a series of countless,
wastes and toiletries.
When we realize the path that we sowed has been done,
and all that we wish for, coming undone.
We begin to regret,
not knowing back then,
that a path which burns,
will lead to ashes in the end.
Yet it is not too late,
for there's always a chance,
that the truth will shine,
bright as the sun.
It is the moonlit night,
the salient breeze.
Which cools our hearts,
and soothes the feels.
When we release the burdens which have cindered us for so long,
what is left, is to go where we belong.
Peaceful and free, cool and placid,
it is then we can say, "Cooling down is worth it."
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 12:05 PM UTC
We came upon slowing traffic.
Inside the bus
Standing passengers were thrown
and grips tightened
as we edged forward across
the unfinished road.
We passed the sun-glassed
occupants of cars and busses
and the rolled-up sleeves
of lorry drivers who's
tanned arms hung out
of every window, and
who's fingers tapped
an unheard tune.
I stooped to stare at the
dancing distance of
the baked tarmacked
highway.
Our eyes stung and wet
The metalled road blazed.
Our approaching gaze silent.
Gripped passports Identity papers
rosary- beads
-Letters of transit -
not needed;
The border did what most
borders do-
and shrugged us through.
Laughter becomes all languages.
Later that afternoon,
I sipped from the glass I held.
Jez turned to me and asked,
"Is this what it's like to be drunk?"
I smiled as I slid my wine towards her...
...
words and foto T Carroll..
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
Clocks;
Ticking
Locks;
Clicking
Advice;
Taken
Leaves;
Raked
The clocks
Are ticking
Tick, tick, ticking
Your life away
Your fate;
Chosen
Your death;
Imminent
Your breath
Stolen
Your heart rate;
Slowing
Your clock;
Stopping
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
My dreams I pursued tirelessly
Until it happened
Then something else happened
I had to slow down
But my dreams didn't
I encountered a few gliches
I call problems
Money ran out to promote my dreams
But I have no intention of giving up
Much less giving in too defeat
I will persevere to make it happen
To see it happen
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 10:30 AM UTC
Every page turned is wasted time
Every word written is wasting lines
Just another drop of poison
To fill cracked veins
Or to prove a heart's still beating
Sliced in half and completely drained
No one is as they seem
Our emptied black sockets
See nothing bar
An empty, gray beauty
Precious things will break, my dear
And we're all slowing down
In this world that keeps turning
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC