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Lynn MacKinnon Sep 2014
The pendulum swings its wide arch, cutting through the air with threatening strokes.
Its sharp blade is ever present and always moving closer in arks of fear.
The pit lies below in dark, endless depths of nothingness.
Its cry is one of forever and silence.

I am in between, and I must choose between the sharp abrasions of the ever threatening pendulum, or the hollow death of the pit.

Each moment the pendulum sweeps closer, and I dodge it, but not before I have felt the hair shaved from my arms or the air stir from its movement.

And I am relieved and safe for a while until another choice must be made, and the pendulum moves another notch closer.

The pit is always waiting.  I have poked my head inside, but have never wholly ventured into its permanence.  The pit is always the last escape and awaits if the pendulum cuts too deep.

Each time I must decide.  “Will it be the pit or will it be the pendulum?”
A take on Edgar Alan Poe's "The Pit and the Pendulum."
Daniel Ospina Jan 2016
Pendulum swings, beckoning time
To move along and forget.
But it can’t.
It likes to linger in the green
Meadows where butterflies
Sip on sweet nectar while
Children play hide and seek
Among the tall trees.
Pendulum swings, yet time
Ignores it at the shores when
Waves and sun hold hands and
Conceive warm hues bathing
The couple immersed in love
Which spans an eternity.
Pendulum swings, but time
Sleeps at the campfire
Crackling, cackling at the
Jokes told by the witty
Grandfather who has
Seen it all, done it all.
Pendulum swings, coaxing
Time to be on its way.
But it can’t.
It’s unable to let go of those
Treasured, magical moments
Etched in the fabrics of the
Universe, painting all existence.
There is a weight that is chained to our fractured heart.

It is filled by our worst failures and emptied by our greatest triumphs.

We wish nothing more than to be rid of this cursed pendulum, that swings to and fro as it deepens the fissures in our heart to reach our very soul.

All around us we see those whose hearts are joined with a kindred, like the morning rays in the night sky.

And the pendulum continues to swing.

We see their faces smiling, as their hearts beat in perfect harmony, a symphony of resonance with complexity and depth.

All the while our heart exudes a lonely note, sharp and unanswered.

And the pendulum continues to swing.

Our efforts to remove it have been in vain.

Our triumphs are few, and our defeats plenty, and with it, its burden grows.

And the pendulum continues to swing.
Dawn Treader Jan 2017
I, like the pendulum
Swing from one extreme
To the polar opposite
Before coming to a conclusive rest in the center
The intensity of applied force
Determines the height of my emotion
But the outcome is the same,
With every swing, I come down
Kinetic converting to potential energy
Until I am frozen in time, dead center
An emotional ground state
Completely still in my own calmness
Where I find that the initial force
Of what troubled me
Was nothing but people
Performing an experiment
To prove a point to themselves
That they could rouse me
I, like the pendulum
Will eventually come
To a complete stop
Alone in my stillness
Breathless and apathetic to my surroundings
If you push me enough, I'll stop caring eventually
renea lee Oct 2015
The effect of resisting the power of hypnotism
because the beholder wants to see the end

patiently waited until it stopped
stared like it was the only thing mattered on Earth
offered even just a minute of himself to see through it

But the thing is
No one penetrates a pendulum
Because it is Hard..
Solid.. Steel

But he did it…
With his ability to look at it like a kryptonite

The pendulum suddenly made
An involuntary halt

Eye to eye
The beholder and his pendulum
Penetrated each other for a time
They can only know…
Ann M Johnson Sep 2013
I see the pendulum slowly sway back in forth keeping up with the hands on the Grandfather clock.
My life seemed to be going along just fine just seeming to keep up with the time
It feels lately that it is not swaying quite right, since I have been having problems with someone who I thought was a friend, now she won't talk to me, she also said not to call
I wish I could be like a pendulum and have everything sway right again
I wish I could, go back in time and make everything right with perfect insight  
I guess for now I have to be patient and wait and watch the pendulum sway and remember better days
Wilkes Arnold Mar 2016
I was relaxed, and deep in thought
The type of talk that silence brought
When just in earshot it rocked,
tick tock
tick tock
"Must be a clock"
I told myself and resumed my thought

Though as the seconds passed I could not,
Despite the will with which I fought
Do to its incessant knock
Tick tock
Tick tock
I searched for the clock
Unable to find the train I sought

I grew more and more distraught
With each and every tick and tock
That find the clock, I could not
As the silence grew more fraught
With the knock,
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
I knew the pain of Lancelot

On and on it ticked and tocked
I cursed at the unseen dreadnought
It no longer merely mocked
But each and every tick and tock
Became an unseen onslaught
T'was 11 o'clock,
When my heart felt the gunshot

Though the shots I could not block
And on and on the bullets poured
Further into the fray I bored
Each foot a cinderblock
Weighed by war
I slowly walked
Tick Tock
Tick Tock
How I'd make it answer for

With little blood left to speak for Desperately I implored
"Restrain your hands that caused such gore;
We need not fight evermore!"
But when I heard the ceaseless knock
Tick tock
Tick tock
I new my words had been ignored
And slowly collapsed to the floor

****** and bludgeoned when I hit bed rock, I had still found no clock
But tick and tock it had forgot
The church bell rang t'was 12 o'clock,
Though mortal wounds the seconds wrought
I no longer was distraught
And as I lay in the hemlock
It occurred in my last thoughts
I would miss the beating knock
tick..., tock...
tick..., tock...
First poem looking for feed back critical and complimentary
There is something I've learned about satisfaction. That it's easy to find purpose in satisfaction instead of satisfaction in purpose. The former results in having your heart and soul and body thrown down to be shattered, melted to a pulp, molded and shattered again and again and again.
Painful as it sounds, it soon becomes a habit. They say bad habits are hard to break, but good or bad they're hard either way. Kinda like breathing, but who ever said breathing was a good habit? But that's a topic for another day.

Here is why, to me at least, finding purpose in satisfaction is wrong, well who really cares what's wrong or right, it just freaking hurts. This state is something I like to call pendulum satisfaction.
Life is a huge *** string attached to a pivot,who is pretty much the only thing that keeps the universe running. Right at the end of this inextensible string called life is basically a bob. A bob consisting of whatever you make life to be on this planet. Hopes, dreams, beliefs, faith, rejections, disappointments, pain, failures, bitterness and society's expectations and criteria in general. Once attached to the string of our nebulous ambiguous potential in life, picks up direction and pace under the gravity of reality and general laws of physics, that I don't really want to get into.

Once that motion begins it builds up momentum leaving us swinging back and forth. To and fro, where we reach a form of satisfaction for a nanosecond in comparison to the distance we end up traveling to achieve as such. This kind of movement leaves us high with the feeling of achievement for an instant, then brings us back to square one, by that thing called gravity, continuously all the freaking time, no exceptions.
Yet it spurs us to push ourselves to the other side of the mean position in hopes to reach a new level to reach a kind of satisfaction. Each time trying and striving to reach a point higher than before.
In vain of course, because just like an actual pendulum, the highest point is reached only initially and unless it swings in a perfectly vacuum and ideal environment, air resistance, weight and gravity will only reduce the highest achievable points on either extreme. Thus the heights decrease with each swing, reducing the momentum and energy. Little by little, swing by swing. Till eventually you're left at a draw with no force or inertia to get you anywhere, kinda like how death can be, and I'm not talking about the physical kind.

What then? Metanoia or metamorphosis or should I simply drop the ball and move on, purposeless?

I'm stuck here, in this pendulum satisfaction and I can't seem to do anything to get out.

However, I do know what I want, it is to change this pendulum into a yo-yo. Have that bob of what I make of this world and allow to rise up and down, through and through in my life, in equilibrium, consistency and purpose. Not just in one plane or direction but to receive it in all its fullness and purpose.
Now what must be done to achieve this satisfaction in purpose?
This flimsy thread I call life needs to shifted from the tip of this bob of purpose to its centre, and somehow find the way to get it to climb up and down l, held by the pivot, who is pretty much the only thing that keeps this universe running.
K Balachandran Oct 2011
From above the green hill,
I watched the still blue sea
Shimmering like a bed of jewels
Just before the sun set.

The sun, the purple wheel that steers the world
Descends inch by inch
The moment it touches the sea,
I expect a sizzle on the water.

Oh!  just a futile piece of  imagination,
An illusion the  pendulum of my mind played
A mischievous  trick,  conjured
Tired of seeing  endless repetitions

The water didn't  dramatically part
The sun with ease slipped in
Like  a seed in to the awaiting earth
Too  eager to regenerate.

A  tranquil  sunset yet again,
The whole world,with bated breath
Was awaiting it, a collective sigh of relief,
Didn't I hear? for now God didn't play dice,

Though never it could be totally ruled out,
Now,every worry goes to sleep in the dark,
And  tomorrow would come
With a new set of promises and pains.

The pendulum thus swings--
Invisible, between day and night,
Possibility of  darkness and light
The hopes that keep us going, and despair.
Isn't life a perpetual journey between certainty and uncertainty?But are we aware of the precarious nature of the existence of our  life and world.What if God choose to play dice for once?
Leelan Farhan May 2014
She swings upon her crooked pendulum,
her eyes burning with a scarlet fire.
Her white dress cannot mask what I know to be
her deepest and darkest desire.

Robin Goodfellow Nov 2016
Shrouded by hopes of bittersweet nights,
following sounds of evening goodbyes.

Tick, tock,
the pendulum

A gentle caress from the lips of a soul,
while forgetting the skies of a beloved home.

Tick, tock,
the pendulum

Crisp scents of a past, the weary now sleeping
not knowing how our dreams were still breathing.

Tick, tock,
the pendulum

Sounds of your heartbeat or my own,
while within the twilight, the clock strikes alone.

Tick, tock,
the pendulum

Gazing in your eyes, I think to myself,
the cascades of lies that my lips will sell.

Tick, tock,
the pendulum

Tick, tock,

the pendulum’s

RAJ NANDY Aug 2018
Dear Friends, having introduced ‘The Enigma of Time in Verse’ in Part One, along with few selected poetic quotes, I now mention what some of the important Philosophers thought about Time down the past centuries. But while doing so, I have tried my best to simplify some of those early concepts for better understanding and appreciation of my readers. If you like it, kindly re-post the poem. Thanks,  – Raj Nandy of New Delhi.

   I commence by quoting Sonnet 60 of Shakespeare about Time,
   Hoping to seek some blessings for this Part Two composition of
“Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
  So do our minutes hasten to their end;
  Each changing place with that which goes before,
  In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
  Nativity, once in the main of light,
  Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown’d,
  Crooked elipses ’gainst his glory fight,
  And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
  Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
  And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow,
  Feeds on the rarities of nature’s truth,
  And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
  And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.”

              PHILOSOPHY OF TIME
Animals are said to live in a continuous present,
Since they have no temporal distinction of past, future,
or the present.
But our consciousness of time, becomes the most
distinguishing feature of mankind.
Though we are mostly obsessed with objective time, -
As the rotation of our Earth separates day from night.
With the swing of the pendulum and the ticking of clocks,
Which regulates our movements, while we try to beat the clock!
But the ancient theologians and philosophers of India and
Who were among the first to ponder about the true nature
of all things,
Had wondered about the subjective nature of time;
Was time linear or cyclic, was time endless or finite?

I begin with Heraclitus, the Pre-Socratic philosopher of 6th Century BC born in Ephesus.
He claimed that everything around us, is in a constant state of change and flux.
You cannot step into the same river twice Heraclitus had claimed,
Since water keeps flowing down the river all the while and never
remains the same.
This flow and change in Nature is a process which is ceaseless.
The only thing which remains permanent is impermanence!
Here is a quote from poet Shelley reflecting the same idea:
“World on world are rolling ever
  From creation to decay
  Like the bubbles on a river
  Sparkling, bursting, borne away.”

Now Heraclitus was refuted by Parmenides, born in the Greek colony of Elea,
On the western coast of Southern Italy, as his contemporary.
Parmenides said that our senses deceive us, since all changes are mere illusory!
True reality was only eternal and unchanging ‘Being’, which was both indivisible and continuous - filling up all space.
Zeno, a pupil of Parmenides, through his famous ‘Paradox of Achilles and the Tortoise’ had shown, that when the tortoise was given a head start,
Swift footed Achilles could never catch up with the tortoise,
Since the space between the two were infinitely divisible, resulting in the impossibility of movement and change in motion!
Now the Greeks were never comfortable with the Concept of Infinity.
They preferred to view the universe as continuous existing ‘Being’.  
However, unlike Heraclitus’ ‘world of change and flux’,
Both Parmenides and Zeno have presented us, with a static unchanging universe!
Thus from the above examples it becomes easy for us to derive,  
How those Ancient Greeks had viewed Time.
Time has been viewed as a forward moving changing entity;
And also as an illusory, continuous and indivisible Being!
To clarify this further I quote Bertrand Russell from his ‘History of Western Philosophy’;
“Creation out of nothing, which was taught in the Old Testament, was an idea wholly foreign to Greek philosophy. When Plato speaks of creation, he imagines a primitive matter, to which God gives form as an artificer.”

For Plato, time was created by the Creator at the same instance when he had fashioned the heavens.
But Plato was more interested to contemplate on things which lay
beyond the sway of time and remained unchangeable and eternal;
Like absolute Truth, absolute Justice, the absolute form of Good and Beauty;
Which were eternal and unchangeable like the ‘Platonic Forms’, and were beyond the realm of Time as true reality.
Plato’s pupil Aristotle was the first Greek philosophers to contemplate on reality inside time, and provide a proper definition as we get to see.
He said, “Time is the number of movement in respect to before and after” - as a part of reality.
To measure time numerically, we must have a ‘before’ and an ‘after’, and also notice the difference objectively.
Therefore, time here becomes the change which we see and experience.
Time takes on a linear motion moving from the past to the present;
And to the unknown future like a moving arrow travelling straight.
Aristotle had developed a four step process to understand everything inside of Time and within human experience:
(a) Observe the world using our senses,
(b) Apply logical rules to these observations,
(c) To go back and consult past authorities, if your logic agrees with their logic,
(d) Then only you can come to a logical conclusion.

No wonder in our modern times, experiments conducted by the LDC or the Large Hadron Collider, located 100m underground near the French-Swiss border,
By going back in time simulates the ‘Big Bang’ conditions, that moment of our universe’s first creation.
The scientists thereby, study the evolution of our universe with time, which  resulted in the  finding of the Higgs Boson !  (On 4thJuly 2012)

NOTES :  All elementary particles interacting with the Higg's Field & obtain Mass, excepting for photons & gluons which do not interact with this field. Mass-less photons can travel at the
speed of light with a mind boggling 186,000 miles per second! Now this LDC is a Particle Accelerator 27 kms long ring-shaped tunnel, made mostly of superconducting magnets, inside which two high-energy particle beams are made to travel close to the speed of light in opposite directions, and the shower of particles resulting from the collision is closely examined, presuming that these similar shower of particles must have been produced at the time of the ‘Big Bang’ some 13.8 million years ago, at the time of Creation! Sound like fiction? Well, Prof. Peter Higgs got the Noble Prize for Physics, for locating the particle called ‘Higgs Boson’ among those shower of particles, on 10th Dec. 2013.



‘Time is a great Teacher, but unfortunately it kills its Pupils!’ – HL Berlioz

“Lost , yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two
   golden hours,
   Each set with sixty diamond minutes.
   No reward is offered, for they are gone forever!” – Horace Mann

Now getting back to our Philosophy of Time, there was Plotinus of the 3rd Century AD,
The founder of the mystical Neo-Platonic School of Philosophy.
He had followed Plato’s basic concept of Time as “the moving image of eternity.”
Mystic Plotinus tried to synthesize both Aristotle and Plato by saying that the entire process of cosmic creation,
Flows out of the ONE  through a series of emanation!
This ONE gave rise to the ‘Divine Mind’ which he called the ‘Realm of Intelligence’ and is an aspect of reality,
When everything is understood in terms of Platonic Forms of Truth, Justice, the Good, and Beauty.
However, the later Christian theologians had interpreted this ONE of Plotinus, -
As the Christian God, the Divine Creator of the Universe.
For God is eternal, in the sense of being timeless, in God there is no before or after, but only a timeless present.

Now this lead St. Augustine, to formulate a very admirable relativistic theory of Time!
St. Augustine, the greatest constructive teacher of the Early Christian Church, had written in Book XI of his ‘Confessions’ during  5th century AD, -
His thoughts about the enigma of Time which had perplexed the Greek philosophers of earlier centuries.
To simplify St. Augustine’s thoughts, I now paraphrase for the sake of clarity.
Time can only be measured while it is passing, yet there is time past, and time future in reality.
To avoid these contradictions he says that past and future can only be thought of as present: ‘past’ must be identified with memory, and ‘future’ with expectation.
Since memory and expectation being both present facts, there is no contradiction.  
“The present of things past is memory, the present of things present is sight; and the present of things future is expectation,” - wrote St. Augustine.

This subjective notion of time led St. Augustine to anticipate Rene Descartes the French philosopher the 17th Century,
Who proclaimed “Cogito, ergo sum” in Latin, meaning “I think, therefore I am”, and is regarded as the Father of Modern Philosophy.

Now cutting a long story short I come to Sir Isaac Newton, well known for his Laws of Motion and Gravity.
Newton speaks of ‘Absolute Time’ which exists independently, flowing at a consistent pace throughout the universe, which can only be understood mathematically.
Newton’s ‘Absolute Time’ had remained as the dominant concept till the  early years of the 20th Century.
When Albert Einstein formulated ‘Theory of Space-time’ along with his Special and General Theory of Relativity.

Now the German philosopher Leibniz during 17th century, had challenged Newton with his anti-realist theory of time.
Leibniz claimed that time was only a convenient intellectual concept, that enables to sequence and compare happening of events.
There must be objects with which time can interact or relate to as ‘Relational Time’ he had felt.
Ernst Mach, like Leibniz towards the end of 19th Century, said that even if it was not obvious what time and space was relative to,
Then they were still relative to the ‘fixed stars’ i.e. the bulk of matter in the universe.

During late 19th century, Robert Kelley introduced the concept of ‘spacious present’, which was the most recent part of the past.
Psychologist and philosopher William James developed this idea further by describing it as ‘’the short duration of which we are immediately and incessantly sensible’’
William James also introduced the term “stream of consciousness” into literature as a method of narration,
That described happenings in the flow of thought in the mind of the characters, - likened to an internal monologue!
This literary technique was later used by James Joyce in his famous novel ‘Ulysses’.

Next I come to one of my favourite philosopher the French born Henri Bergson.
The Nobel Laureate and author of ‘Time and Free Will’ and ‘Creative Evolution’.
Will Durant in his ‘Story of Philosophy’ says Bergson was ‘the David destined to slay the Goliath of materialism.’
It was Bergson’s ‘Elan Vital’ that life force and impelling urge, Which makes us grow and transforms this wandering planet into a theatre of unending creation.
For Bergson, time is as fundamental as space; and it is time that holds the essence of life, and perhaps of all reality.
Time is an accumulation, a growth, a duration, where “duration is the continuous progress of the past which gnaws into the future and which swells as it advances.
The past in its entirety is prolonged into the present and abides there actual and acting.
Duration means that the past endures, that nothing is lost.
Though we think with only a small part of our past; but it is with our entire past that we desire, will, and act.”
“Since time is an accumulation, the future can never be the same as the past, -
For a new accumulation arises at every step, and change is far more radical than we suppose…the geometric predictability of all things, Which is the goal of a mechanistic science, is only a delusion and a dream!”  
Bergson goes on in his compelling lyrical style:            
“For a conscious being, to exist is to change, to change is to mature,
to mature is to go on creating one’s self endlessly. Perhaps all reality is time and duration, becoming and change.”
Bergson differed with Darwin's theory of adaptation to environment, and stated;
“Man is no passively adaptive machine, he is a focus of redirected force, a centre of creative evolution.”

Martin Heidegger, the German thinker in his ‘Being and Time’ of 1927, had said:
“We do not exist within time, but in a very real way we are time!”
Time is inseparable from human experience, since we can allow the past to exist in the present through memory;
And even allow a potential future occurrence to exist in the present due to our human ability to care, and be concerned about things.
Therefore we are not stuck in simple sequential or linear time, but can step out of it almost at will!

In this part I have tried to convey what the Ancient Greek Philosophers had felt about Time in a simplified way.
Also some thoughts of Medieval and Early Modern philosophers and what they had to say.
Where Sir Isaac Newton stands like a colossus with his Concept of Time, Laws of Motion, and Gravity.
Not forgetting Henri Bergson, one of my favourite philosopher, of the mid-19th and the mid-20th Century.
All through my narration I had tried to hold the interest of my readers, and also educated myself as a true knowledge seeker.
In my concluding Part Three I will cover few Modern Philosophers along with the relativistic concept of time.
Certainly not forgetting the space-time theory of our famous Albert Einstein!
Thanks for reading patiently, from Raj Nandy of New Delhi.
Tatiana Mar 2014
The pendulum swings
echoing inside the clock.
The muffled sound repeats,
tick, tock, tick, tock.

The noise echos hollowly
as if it is too empty to speak.
The rhythm is so off beat,
tick... tock... tick....... creek.

The clock's hands are failing
to point to the numbers on time.
The sound is now unnatural,
tick.. tock... tick...... chime.

The pendulum swings
slowly it falls apart like a thread.
The sound starts to echo,
tick..... tock.. tick....... dead.
All the edits finished
All the audio in time
Geoff and Garry worked hard
To get the podcast up on line
topics from the serious
To topics quite delirious
full of energy
even one on me
A pair of pop culture pundits
Spewing whatever comes to mind
It's a great bit of entertainment
It might just expand your mind
Take the time to listen now
They may even have a row
You never know
So start the show
The Pendulum Podcast
Is the show of which I speak
They both put it together
They try to put one out
Most every week
It reaches to the geek in us
sometimes you'll need an omnibus
To understand
the things that these two can
It's enjoyable and funny
Take the time
and listen in
Do yourself a favour
It is not a mortal sin
But, who knows where
the show will lead
they do it for the fun not greed
you'll love to hear
The topics these two spear.

check out The Pendulum Podcast on facebook, and youtube. Link to youtube is as follows
Willoughby Sep 2018
Mustard Joe told Pendulum Pam that Creepy Ray Ray was

purchasing a human kidney, illegally, on the black market.  We

didn't even know Creepy Ray Ray was sick.  Sick in the head

maybe, but physically sick? We had no idea.

   You may think that it' not right that I should call Creepy Ray

Ray sick in the head but I think you'll agree with me when I tell

you what happened.  Creepy Ray Ray told Mustard Joe who told

Pendulum Pam that he wasn't sick. Good we all said.  We heard

you were buying a human kidney, thank goodness your not. "Oh

I'm buying a human kidney", said Creepy Ray Ray. " I'm buying

it to eat it"!
Let's all give a big welcome to our two new characters, Mustard Joe and Pendulum Pam. A background bio will soon follow.                    
               Willoughby News letter:  "My Wife is a Sheep" has been barred and removed from display but can still be seen if you go to my profile page.  Warning: No *****'s, dweebs or anyone without a twisted sense of adventure should view the poem.    Willoughby out!
Deep asleep my heart stops beating
I see a chance to break away
Looking down at myself not breathing
I feel no sorrow if it ends today
What’s the point in senseless silence
in my silence can you hear me pray
Love like magic is an illusion of science
as I march into the dark decay

Where’s the justice in a land of liars
a knife is plunged into the innocent soul
A broken heart bleeds anger and fire
as the pendulum swings the heart grows cold

Fear and darkness in the tears I bleed
as I drift into a permanent sleep
Like a moth to the flame with burning wings
I fly to the valley of sorrow and grief
I fall into the mouth of a broken tree
then land on the ledge of a snow covered leaf
I heard a voice bellow from below
Is it your nature to lie, are you full of greed
I covered my face but my hands would not show
Is it your nature to be cruel and ruthless
No! I screamed to the voice in the deep
I am innocent and more so clueless
then the voice began to sing
Then why are you here in the land of the heartless
the land of darkness and decay
Why are you here where none can leave
you who has committed such a terrible thing

Where’s the justice in a land of liars
a knife is plunged into the innocent soul
A broken heart bleeds anger and fire
as the pendulum swings the heart grows cold

Why am I here this is a terrible mistake
last think I remember there was no pain
I went to sleep but did I wake?
I do remember a porcelain plate
a porcelain cup, I ate and drank
Was it dinner that night that sealed my fate?
Amatoxin tea with a Ricin cake
what have I done, what did I take?
The voice snickered and whispered to me
You are ****** for all eternity
into the darkness I was pulled away
pulled away into the dark decay

Where’s the justice in a land of liars
a knife is plunged into the innocent soul
A broken heart bleeds anger and fire
as the pendulum swings the heart grows cold

Sorrow is a shadow over those who are grieving
begging for a chance to put an end to the pain
As we suffocate should we fight to keep breathing
or surrender to sorrow and the dark decay
Falling in darkness consumed by the flames
writhing and thrashing from the venomous stings

Then a flash and a creature appeared in front of me
A golden lion with six glowing wings
lifted me away out of the dark decay
Then I opened my eyes and heard the telephone ring
© JDMaraccini 2013
Umi Apr 2018
The gentle tone of her teaching,
In wonderous melodies, orchestral knowledge from a sweet teacher,
Education set by the awareness of harmonizing, delicate instruments,
Wisdom and foresight, cast by no other judgement but of a conductor,
Whomst hand leads to the ups and downs of the intensity, recognised
Ensembling in the beauty of a sinfonietta, sounds flows uninterrupted
Let the singing pendulum to your mistress's pleasure fall to the bottom, attached to the chipped illusionists mask of anticipation!
To this dance the mascarade does not crack in the shadow of sound,
A wise scholar would not sacrifice one topic relevant to learn to the passing time, to her students unfortune that is, cast in pure grief,
A wise conductor does the same with musical notes, the story flows,
With the moon high in the sky, time stands in her way, questioning her to dance with the devil amongst a distorted, whicked dark,
But resillient to the end, tough and with no distraction taking her focus the director of this event finishes the creation of art, an orchestra
A craftwoman of tempo and elegance always stands out after all, bringing the musical score to life.

~ Umi
sanch kay Apr 2015
Bipolar is not just
swinging madly across a spectrum
of deep blue to fiery orange without
being stained by the indigos and greens, yellows and reds in between.
Bipolar is not just
a season blessed and a season cursed
on a cycle of happen, rinse, repeat.
bipolar is not just
Loud uncontrollable chatter
laughter that bounces off the insides of your head
earthshattering sobs that give way to
teardrops that are waterfalls.
bipolar is not just
wanting to rove our hands over the
planes and curves of
every body we happen to find ****.
bipolar is not just
an amalgamation of wounds
in various stages of healing
each with an ugly story to tell.
Bipolar is just
to deal
The Noose Sep 2013
Swinging on a pendulum
back and forth and again and again
Forever wandering in the hallways of monotony
Paralysed by my own indecisiveness
perhaps I should pause
before I dive in.....
Into the wilderness of reality
Jenni Aug 2014
I've noticed that my moods
Seem to be reminiscent of a pendulum
I can never experience intense happiness
Without a swift recoil in the opposite direction
Every moment of contentment
Every second of joy
Is matched with an equal measure of guilt
I begin to dread the very things
That bring me the most happiness
I begin to regulate my moods
Never letting them deviate too much
Trying my hardest to keep an equilibrium
Trying my best to steady the pendulum
Maybe I'm avoiding the worst of the pain
But at what cost?
I'm really not sure what to do anymore. I don't like this careful stability, or should I call it stagnance? But the extreme ups and downs are unbearable.
Jesse stillwater Jun 2018
One day at a time
swings the pendulum;
only love awakens senses
too ephemeral to be restrained,
like the magic of a phonograph stylus
in a vintage vinyl groove
and the sensual touch
      of skin so new

It's not easy to watch
a flock flying away
      in the distance,
seeing the expanse beyond
reach of a wandering mind;

      heed distracted
      by the slow sway
of the treetops hypnotic careen

Doves dive on feathered canter,
      silent as the winged wind,
broke free from the gravity
      befallen the weight
            of the world
      Look­ing up wondering
            beyond the sky,
         the passing clouds
            crawl across
palliating the dusk hazed horizon

Synchronicity transcends across
an immeasurably deep river chasm,
      into a wordless abyss
      ensconced unthought
        here and there

Silent silhouettes
            glide across
      the valley void below,
            wings to the sky

and, if you listen to a moment breathe,
            you can hear
                  the silent peace .............

you can feel the prevailing wind's direction
            blowing through your soul

             Jesse Stillwater
            December 2017
CautiousRain Feb 2016
Your heart moves like a pendulum,
the weight of the blood carrying;
as it beats, sways, and springs.

Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump; swing.

The sound of your cuckoo-clock heart rings,
resonates, in my ears, and the vibrations echo in my mind;

your eyes blink, tick tock tick tock.

Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump; swing.

Our eyes lock, whispers linger,
as our breaths synchronize to your metronome;
our feet fumble, tip tap tip tap,
and our time becomes lost in the sound:

Ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump; swing.
To my boyfriend with a quickened heart.
Sonia Ettyang Feb 2019
Back and forth it goes

Bruising hearts
Yearning souls
Misguided spirits
Forever in a quest
To realign with the infinite
But eyes wide shut
Minds on snooze
Bodies on cruise

Tik tok
Tik tok
The pendulum sways
  everytime and again
© Sonia Ettyang
"How did it get so late so soon?"
Dr. Seuss
Kate Lion Jan 2013

It’s wrong of me, I know
            To wait around for you to say extraordinary things, sweetheart.
But there’s something so enticing about true love
                        Wrapped up in fancy scratch paper
                        With half the lines crossed out
                                                [Those are the best kind of things to say, you know
                                                            ­‘Cause it means I’ll spend hours smashing myself
                                                          ­  Between those lines
                                                           ­ Trying to fill in the blanks
                                                          ­  About who you love,
                                                           ­                         And why.
                                                … I miss knowing those things
                                                          ­                          Just a little.]    
            All tied together with the broken guitar strings
[Where now rest those hummingbird wings?]
You’d tune for me
                        Before anybody knew who you were
                                    And I was the only one who listened.

I miss the you I knew

            The one who told me I was beautiful,
                        All mismatched and clashed,
                        Because we were the brains of this outfit,
And how were we to know that
                                    Dreams and reality
                                                Can’t ever
                                                Be worn together?
                        [At least, that’s what Mother would tell me
                                    When I asked to wear her fancy pearls to bed]

I remember the day before we were expected to grow up
            [The day before the sky turned inside out
            And suddenly
                        We were expected to know why it rained sometimes,
                        Were expected to expect pneumonia if we played in the puddles too long,
                                    Were expected to know black from white
To stay indoors and turn gray overnight.
Yes, the day before all of those expectations rose to meet us,]
We were expected to go to a gaudy dinner party
To boast about ourselves.
And everything we planned to become.
            But I hated heels, and you hated lies
            So I showed up in fuzzy bunny slippers with my hair done up nice, and you-
            You didn’t go.
                        There’s something about growing up you never took a liking to.

Everyone knew who you were by then.
And I sat alone as they talked about you
                        And all of the wonderful things you were becoming.
                        And I just nodded, picturing the boy I once knew
The boy that no one knew
                                    With dreams so big they encompassed the entire sidewalk in chalk
                                    Whenever we sat down to visualize the future
we never really thought would come
                        There was never enough room for me to color mine
                        [So I simply signed my name
                                    All small
                                    In the corner
                                    Of that sidewalk gallery of hearts and hopes]
                        And that’s the way I wanted it
I didn’t need a dream if I had you.


It was too perfect, really.
Well, I was, I suppose.
Perfectly innocent.

I now see how illogical it is
To assume that a heart can simply be cut away from the chest,
And given.

For it is impossible to do so

You got so much more than my heart, my love

From the ends of my eyelashes to my fingertips
All of me was yours

From the frantic way my heart beat against my ribcage        
[Like a tiny hummingbird
            Wanting to burst free
To taste you with my entire soul
            Swallow you whole
            Not merely glean a teasing sample with my lips]

To the way it melted through my chest
And slid softly to my fingers
Resting in your palm
When you placed your hand in mine
            I was clutching the reality I’d only ever dreamed of
            [My heart and I were a package deal- and you held both]
            Yes, it was the closest I’ve ever been to happiness

Oh, love…
I loved,
With every part of me,
I hope you know.

But I never considered that I did
Not really

Until that moment when you led me in my fuzzy bunny slippers to the chalky sidewalk
And silently erased my name from that corner
            Whispering you were sorry all the while.
            But we were all grown up now.

[That was the day I stood with my arms outstretched
Mouth gaping open
To catch the rain
As the sky turned inside out
Because, well.
I needed new dreams if I didn’t have you]

Tears filled my eyes, then
For I felt my heart fall out of my chest
[Yes, I thought such a thing was impossible
But I’d also
Thought it impossible for you to ever leave]
To rest
In your hands
[A final parting gift]

What pain filled that void!
            [I would blame it on pneumonia,
                        -For I stood in the puddles forever that day
                        Making mouthfuls of promises to that empty rain-
                        But I think we both know better
                        Than to expect a little sickness to bring pain such as this]
For I was left with nothing
And you
With a tiny hummingbird you didn’t even know what to do with
                        As it lay
                        Barely breathing
                        Barely beating
                        But doing both for you]
You still had everything

From the tears that dripped from my lashes
To the tips of my fingers that brushed them away

To that empty ribcage
            [With the bones gaping open
            So barren, but for a couple feathers
            That blew about when you whispered
                        (Hanging on to a hollow kind of hope)
But fell to the bottom of my stomach once it was clear
That you were never coming back
With my little hummingbird]
And that flat thump in my chest
[From the pendulum I secured in its stead
                        Marking each moment I spent without a true heartbeat
No frenzy of feathers
Just a hollow, rhythmic stupor
That fell over my soul]
That reminded me
I had
Nothing to love anymore.


            Who knows how long I stood
                        Letting the draft in through the spaces between my ribcage
                        So raw and gaping
                        My soul an empty ocean
                        Wai­ting for any kind of tide to pull me in
                                                              ­            fill me up
                                                              ­            bring me out again
            I got so cold, love
            Waiting for the wind to wash up something on the brittle beaches of my bones
            It took forever, it seemed
            For me to swallow that mouthful of rain you left me with that day
                        [How I wish I’d known sooner that’s all it would take]
            But when I did
            It washed that pendulum straight out
                        [Oh, and how that mouthful wetted the lips of my helpless spirit
                                    Till it was chugging words I’d never been able to find
                                                And that’s why I write
                                                About you
                                                And our love
                                                That is long lost somewhere
Lost in a somewhere only you’ve ever been to]
            Into the hands of someone who thought he’d found my soul.

And how I wish he hadn’t found the counterfeit
For he shined it so pretty and neat-like
            [Oh, that it had been real]
And secured it around his neck
            I never knew I had anything worth showing off
            But he made me feel that I had

Oh, but how it all was very broken
For I was very out of order, see
            Nothing to give him
            Not really
            Nothing but permission for his eyelashes to flicker at me
            For him to brush me with his lips and the tips of his fingers
                        I never backed away soon enough
                        Always left red with regrets
                        Horrific actions I’ll never forget
            [Oh, Always
                        The­ swing of the pendulum in the back of my mind
                        Whispering we were on borrowed time
                        Because none of me was really mine
                                                But did I listen?]

He’d tell me I was lovely all the day.

So how picturesque to think of me
Standing on his porch one day
            In my fuzzy bunny slippers
            With mother’s pearls around my neck
            Expecting him to tell me once again.
But that’s when it ended
            Just like I’d wanted
            ‘Cause he claimed I was deranged for double-dipping
            Dragging dreams into the daytime
And I smiled
            ‘Cause I knew that he was wrong.
                        [Yep, you always loved my plaid pajama pants
All mud stained from puddle jumping
From the days we expected nothing but rain for us to catch]


How horribly addictive true love is!
            Do you not agree?

For I think we both should like to be gone from each other
Forever, if we could both stand to be away that long

But as long as I live
            I shall never find someone so perfect as you
            And your eyes are the tide that draws me in time after time
            So why should I cast you out, my love?
            Tell me to go away, the way you’ve never said.
            Give me a reason to leave.
For I can’t find one at all,
Except that I love you too much to be logical
                                                     to own up to reality

--It is a sad thought
            To think you might’ve plucked the feathers from my hummingbird
            And threaded them through those broken guitar strings you tuned for me
            To make a wind chime for your porch
                        [You’re the only one who ever listened to me, anyway]
            Did I not see those fancy colors hanging by your door yesterday,
            The same shade as my eyes?
I do not wish to make assumptions,
            Stop me if I’m wrong.

I already know it was so wrong of me
            To think it should’ve gone differently yesterday
                        When I laced up a corset to fill that gap in my chest
                                    Donned a dress with my mother’s fancy pearls
                                    Slipped heels onto my feet
                                    And fixed my hair nice and pretty for you
Oh, love
            How quickly I found you’ve forgotten

Because when you saw me standing there on your doorstep
            All perfect
            And real
            And neat
You handed me a piece of paper
And asked about my aspirations

I could do nothing but glance at the sidewalk, surprised,
Finding nothing but gray pavement.
            For you, my love,
            Are living your dreams now
            No need to chalk them up and wish.

But my hopes haven’t changed, love
I’ve yet to live the only dream I ever wanted

And how I wished to dazzle you by saying extraordinary things
            All wrapped up in this fancy piece of scratch paper
            With half the lines crossed out
            But I don’t think you appreciate it like you used to

And how I wished to tell you that my dream could be found in the chalk dust
Still stuck to the bottoms of my fuzzy bunny slippers
I used to wear
With my mother’s fancy pearls
Until yesterday

When I tried to match everything up evenly
            And we stood on your porch
            With no one to hear us but the wind chime
                        [The feathers holding it together
                                    Just hanging on your every breath
                                                And swaying to a hollow sort of hope]
As you whispered.

You told me I was beautiful.

            And I went home and cried.
Bijan Nowain Feb 2015
From afar she was admired
Clouds shaped of fancy and lust
Rainstorm of affection
Pouring down upon her
Appetite for desire consumed
Alas, meant to be, it was not
Love unequal, partial, distorted
The pendulum swings between
Elation and anxiety, passion and pain
Tale told many times before
Boy encounters girl, boy falls for girl
Love, while one-sided is still love
But fleeting, unsustainable
The great white buffalo
Unrequited love
Lily Smith May 2013
Life passes by like a pendulum swinging...  
Back and forth...
Back and forth...
Fast at first, but eventually slowing to a halt..
Where it stops until it's able to begin again...
Ana Kruscic Nov 2012
I have been shaped, some bruised and molded statue of clay.
To obey and proceed with attentive caution, wary: "Do not stray!";
Have a walk to clear your thoughts through the Rose gardens.
Some purpose: to love, to nurture, to care.
Alas! I have not been adequately made aware,
That my mind's Ghost gives no steps to share.

A bee for a flower and even fish for the sea,
But how to compare with a human like me?
Let my gills breathe in the stream's current--
And let me pollinate the wicked flower.
For I also must learn the ways,
Of today's quick and increasing dismays.

They say, "You must live, so long as you are alive"
"Do not ever yourself of intense feelings deprive!"
But who knows what's better and right,
And whether we were all born Good and White.
Sentiments overexposed and worn-out for some,
For them become quite weary and numb.

A glimmer of hope through a cloud of fear,
Perchance to say, "Ok, I'll give them my ear"
But the frost built up and fresh wood decays,
The mist has grown dark with a deadly-ash haze.
The suns warmth that to my bones brings strength
Leaves me, in Winter alone almost at arms-length.

Sing, and rebel. WE must drink and remind ourselves-
As one task goes by, another awaits.

Time no longer dances around an infants thumb,
Rather whips and rides the very Sun.

The heart bends, salvation is within!
Where is He so that I may not sin?

But have a walk to clear your thoughts through the Rose gardens.
Because nature's beauty does not take off without warning.
Bags packed and set aside through an evening sleep--
Words of a prophet: "As you sow, so shall you reap"
The long and heavy pendulum of those sighs spent,
Cuts deep into the flesh; a spirit to torment.
Happiness,always reaching but barely touching
Like a  young child on tip-toes reaching to a cabinet but just touching the tip of the  mug
counting seconds till the collide of heels back to ground, defeat
Like trial and error, happiness was lurking and begging for my grasp
Searching for a grasp
I was told to find my center
But like watching a  constant swinging pendulum I could not stop
never able to stop, discover,and explore  the center
I was told happiness is not easy, not for your kind
Kind compassionate loving, why was being happy so unfulfilling
Unfulfilling, Like holding sand in your hands but it slides through those palms
Palms left empty
Emptiness, like watching  an hour glass of sand
sand finds the bottom and you see, feel, and understand half-full
Full,full, full
I found you and I found  full
fulfillment of a new kind: kind compassionate loving
Hapiness not reaching or  barely touching but grasping
Like a young child on tip-toes reaching in a cabinet for a mug and that grasp and pull
the feeling when heels kiss the wood floor; sign of relief
Like holding piles of sand and each grain is sliding through  palms
Palms no longer left  open and empty
My palms meets yours when the sand feels lost and gone  
like an hour glass perfectly timed
And placed horizontal
We create balance
Like watching a pendulum  stopped from the sway
Finding the center
Still, calm, peaceful
Trevor Stuart May 2014
I put so much effort into random places,
so much effort into random faces
face it
im faceless
thoughts towards destiny
feeling empty,
wondering whats left in me...?

messages esoteric terrorize my rhetoric
pedestrians staring glaring gazin gotta get a second look


layers shed, fall from those ancient snakes
left for dead
suffocated, stranded
god ******
this sunless planet is madness


try to find sense in a broke world
what are hands without manipulation?
and in life? death is a stipulation
a fools gold is never within grasp
clasp delusions Grandiose
with a toast
to sham pain and champagne
emptied grails course through mans veins

oh to see what mirrors saw
would reflections appear at all?
peer into the endless ego
see nothing but self libido

we are all weary travelers,
existences' eternal passengers
remove masks, flasks, end the charade
let serpents slither, and sun bath
away from the shade

embrace the end of nights
push away the start of days
just keep in mind
which way
            the pendulum sways
it swings to and fro,
how it memorizes you
just a small pendulum
copyright; 2007
McNally, Inc.
written for my poetry class I took back in high school
DieingEmbers Oct 2012
Each swing
of the
brings closer
the gravediggers pit.
Great title borrowed from E.A.Poe and recycled for my own view on how time slips away so quickly
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
Kassiani Sep 2012
It’s like when you’re little
And you notice yourself breathing
And wonder if you’ve been breathing this whole time
Or if it only happens when you think about it
Well, I’ve been thinking much too hard for a long time
So hard that I didn’t notice
The world forming a routine around me
And my unconscious willingness to fall in line

The girl who shunned the lemmings
Followed the crowd all the same

I considered myself a product of anxiety
Not a victim
Not a survivor
But the result of
Someone who thrived on frenetic energy
As worries danced out a stuttering tachycardia

This is the life I was given
Though I prayed for days of calm
Prayed for the safety of routine and predictability
And the comfort they would hold
For I am afraid of nearly everything
So I have been wishing for days without fear
Bowed my head under the Heavens and cried in all the languages I have
Peace, paix, ειρηνη

It was in the pursuit of peace
That I blindly accepted all offers of security
Built myself up with grades and responsibilities and qualifications
With the assurance it would be worth it in the long run
Suddenly I saw the boredom I had asked for
And felt no relief
No comfort
Just the paralyzing fear that I’d settled for a life I did not want

My trembling limbs were made for anxiety
But I’ve been bingeing it
So the lack thereof is just
It would seem I am addicted to frenzy
Though I always want out
A pendulum between the extremes
Never resting on moderation
Never resting
Written 9/17/12
Patricia Waldron Aug 2014
I am emotional, passionate, obsessed
Borne from peak to peak
Repeatedly plunged into
one abyss after another
My pendulum always in motion
I have need of peace and security
and you.

— The End —