#timelessness
Silent spaces that we all have,
spaces where emotion meets silence,
where silence meets with our inner chaos.
Spaces where emotion meets silence,
like when a star falls, and a new one is born,
where silent spaces fill with emotion.
Like when a star falls, and a new one is born,
where new emotions and new silent spaces,
born and die, born and die, and keep repeating.
Where new emotions and new silent spaces,
a place of ineffableness is taking place,
a place where everything goes quiet.
A place of ineffableness is taking place,
a place where you can only hear,
those silent spaces and silent emotions.
A place where you can only hear,
those silent spaces of timelessness,
spaces where emotion meets silence.
silent spaces that we all have.
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 8:35 AM UTC
Yet, to affirm...
With a realm to sake, biding...
Boding a habit, of creating a sojourn
To a peaceful cause, in the shape of destiny, earns adding?
Within the wait of redemption, a droll season
Has sat and noticed me, in a privileges smile...
The land has it to yearn, for a future to wind and remain?
In a stoic refrain, we mention to any's fate, all the while:
Curious beginnings
With a reach for any who would
The salt of a shared stipulation, semblance of endings...?
That become the inheritance of now, the house of all and good?
Awakening at their appointed hour:
Our suggestion, our intimation...
Of cope, and a colloquial prayer, set to dour
Music? and the integrity of a world's forces of generations?
A prayer that turned into a defiant star...
Welcoming the here, the intellect of perception
Where we were, where distances of courage stare far
The need of silence and its prodigy, with a blind intuition...?
All of heed, a God warming to us...
We know this, with a remnant eye
The tarry of promises, to question even simplicity, thus
Nature with a conscience's vote, a role of integrity to lie?
Upon a bed of dignity, an answer for anarchy...
Worth in a worlds share, have we finished the patience's of peace?
Or the resumption of a halt to harrow, a hell in the name of what was merry...?
Times, the court of siblings with a deed for you, adrenaline is living's feast...
May 3, 2025
May 3, 2025 at 1:37 PM UTC
_No distance,
no time,
only this moment,
you and I,
as if the god above,
has listened to my heart's love._
Jan 7, 2025
Jan 7, 2025 at 2:55 PM UTC
Speed skills
Anti the patience, you dismay?
Serious consciences, save what kills
Seek me at the end of poise, people shade
And a heart of steel, waiting on the guidance
Made of hunger in the name of shame
Somewhere the lovers of wonder, are our chance
Oblivion and the nary of a fulfilled joy, same
Same side of a house
Adding the gifts of omnipotence, a hill
Now in your stead, have and the thought for thou
Eccentric as a wall of flame, we see the sun is a since's will...
Won't a misery enact, the coming hope?
Erudite and valuing want, over loves history...
Never in view, with a bright mind, to liberate shown...?
Time, to a little more fate, when loves epistolary...
Heed me, the corners and the future of powers, adroit
Overt to clashes of vivid kind, that swallow of pride
Made the noise, the vice and the silence, so loyal...
Earned for a levity in the now, the soul of reach to those, sighed
Now
At the moment of curiosity, the privilege of sincerity
Making the statement of a lifetime, when time builds a house
Each their spate fears, like a timely fool, with tears for eternity...
May 27, 2024
May 27, 2024 at 2:53 AM UTC
#PaulSN
I have been writing
about you
almost since my
very first-ever poem
It was your spirit I
could feel--
even when I was wholly
unable to feel
You are a b ra isi v e
in the most t e n d e r e s t
of ways
my little scrapper
And I have pulled you
t o w a r d s me
a thousand different days
(yet, I have never touched you)
Little scrapper, you are
a d m i r e d
from afar
by me--
the one who has been
watching you--
all these years
Look up, beautiful-one
turn your face
to me
and see that I am
still here--
wanting just to touch
the side of yours
with two fingers
just a touch
Yes,
silly spilly--
yapper-lilly
I am right here..
lookin at you- tenderly
still--
even after all this time
#
Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 9:10 PM UTC
#Selmhem Naise
*Remember the movie
"Terminator"--
the first one?
Sarah was being hunted
and Kyle was sent back
in time
to protect her from
the machine-made Terminator
whose only purpose in life was to end hers.
How was he to know that
when he entered into her world;
he was going to fall so deeply?
And without his entrance
into her life-- he
would have no reason
to come across time for her--
the fruit of their love
would have never been born--
the very reason
for the very reason of the killer's mission.
To try to figure out
and understand
where this perpetual cycle
of love began, would
bog the mind--
all that can be done
is acceptance
or rejection
of that love.
Yeah, but what a love it was--*
Kyle came across time for her.
#
Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 8:17 PM UTC
How many times have I climbed this mountain?
How many times sat in the dry leaves at the end of day?
And how many more to come?
Uncountable to me...
There must be a definite number
but to me they are endless.
Endless in number and endless
each in its own day.
Jun 28, 2020
Jun 28, 2020 at 7:11 PM UTC
A few years ago, I was in junior high. Or at least it seems that
way. Then the next thing I knew, I just graduated from
college. Is that possible, to let time play games with you, and
the games seem like reality? Then I just watched Mariel Hem-
ingway in Woody Allen's "Manhattan." It seems like a few
weeks ago. I had a crush on her. In the movie, she is only 17.
Now she's 63. What the hell happened? What's going on? I
don't get it. I have dreams that are timeless, memories of beau-
tiful women I dated over a lifetime. I feel exactly how I felt
50 years ago. I remember exactly how each one smelled. A-
mazing! I remember reading in Spanish Jorge Luis Borges'
books. But life is an endless stream of recollections, or should
I say reinactments. Each night as I sleep, I make love with
Sharon, or maybe Linda, perhaps Nancy. Ah, Nancy, the
most beautiful girl in Topeka when we were both teenagers!
But after she was divorced, Nancy and I started dating and
making love. Ah, the plenitude, the pulchritude! And now I
watch movies. I'm not old, the movies are old, or so it seems.
Cinder was my first dog, my best friend growing up. There
were no leash laws in the '50s, so when my best human friend,
Bruce, and I were in grade school, we would ride our bikes all
the way downtown with Cinder keeping up with us all the way.
Could that have been 65 years ago/ Really? Are you sure?
I'm not.
Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 3:53 AM UTC
A photon has no time.
Here and there, instantly.
No distance too, when in the light.
All is one, one is all,
eternally.
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 12:50 AM UTC
Forever is the moment
The bedside clock strikes midnight
As the insomniac cries,
“How long will I stay awake?!”
Forever is the moment
Staring at the dead of night
Seeing the most starlit skies,
As our lasting Heaven’s sake.
Forever is the moment
Lonesome poets start to write
Words to memorialize
Constant and persistent ache.
Forever is the moment
When finally things feel right
And hopefulness fills the eyes,
And no hearts are left to break.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 11:21 PM UTC
Aesthetically pleasing spiderwebs
Dogs fitting perfectly into each dorway
Books over Books over Books over Books
being dead wood covered by dead wood inside of dead wood
surrounded by stone
it´s what I call home
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 3:49 PM UTC
In waking sleep we all expire,
remote organics built to tire –
searching lusts for something more
to fill our souls beyond our core
We lay awake inside a dream,
asleep within a constant stream,
alone, in part, to wander, lost,
with passing time our only cost
We play as shadows holding hands
with eyes wide closed and few demands,
our every moment briefly clashing;
fast forgotten memories flashing
Here, we count down from our birth
with time a thief upon this earth –
purpose teased at every corner,
Chinese Whispers our informer
But all will realise when we’re gone
that we were dreaming every song –
that death becomes another story;
a painless world of allegory
I fear we write this book forever
as single pages bound together
to lay inside our reader’s minds
in passing paragraphs of time
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 3:34 PM UTC
First light, and
a chill mist.
Low bird calls.
Small and quiet,
the eldest child
zips her way
out of the tent.
Gathering
wildflowers,
she sips a bit
of mountain
water.
Reaching
up, she
offers
her flowers
into the
crook of
a plain tree,
bowing down.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
Born to an Italian father
and a dreaming,
wide-eyed American,
travel was my fortune,
my life before I chose it.
One late September evening,
my wide-brimmed
velvet hat and I
discovered
what it was to fly.
Surging through moving sculptures
of clouds,
riding the Pan Am night
flight to London,
I was nine, and I was hooked.
Peter Pan was my secret love then.
I had saved my loose tooth
for the English tooth fairy, wishing
and hoping for an English penny.
Scones and bridges from my books
were real now to taste and see.
I began to write then, mostly
in my mind.
That was how I lived then,
and still do.
Finding and forming
words within for everything.
A sacred artesian spring,
i Fonti del Clitunno.
Perfection at Paestum.
Stonehenge,
when one could still
walk among those holy stones.
The early church of Santa Sabina,
whose high windows
transmit light
through membranes of mica.
The abiding silence
of these ancient, sacred places
held me transfixed.
Continuity of time flowed,
like invisible honey,
all around me.
I wanted to taste it with my mind.
Know it with all of my being.
And one day, find the right words.
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
still hours in
still company
still sitting-- waiting
stilly
how long until
we break this
monotony--
are these the hoursminutesseconds we regret?
is this where it all went when say- 80 and dying
you recall and all you have around you is
a familiar stillness
still it can’t all be that bad--
you were alive you were breathing you were still-
digesting and growing and learning and
you heart all the while was beating
you were never still at all
just a vessel for the motion of life
80 years of it
and then it’s all just a return to the good earth
to nurture the movement of life through
a blade of grass a dandelion an acorn
the beauty of your existence was how
you carried the torch of life so brilliantly
cradling it in your breast for so long
even as your youth crept away and your blood slowed down
and the memories faded and the thoughts all but stopped
but here we are
still here
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC