"tempus" poems
Where goes the time when it flies?
Simplified by expression, and stained by clarity.
Smudge by lucidity
smeared by simplicity
tainted by intelligibility.
Tempus fugit as in time flies.
Sharply distressing with painful feelings
to the point of mental instability
morning or night
we become possessed with its mystic dealings.
Where goes the time when it runs?
Not a solitary explanation is found.
It happens and it won’t stop
until life terminates as well
without cause.
Derived of rationalisation
lacking understanding
short of justification
bursting with vindication
persistently and with conviction.
Where goes the time when it sails?
From the second that we’re born.
Where were we existing?
We cannot be so sure
Cannot recollect the past
Not for the first five of our years
Memory so blur, so shadowy
Hazy with distortions
obscure and confusing
Unit our mind starts slowly to recollect.
Where goes the time when it escapes?
The chronology of life so mysterious.
Nothing can solve its ambiguity
for time is a complex case
with an infinity of secrets.
What’s the obsession when we have so many setbacks
drawbacks and obstacles
obstructions and conundrums
to take care of before time perishes away
and leaves us stranded in oblivion.
Oh time, you magnificent of all mysteries,
the high and mighty of ambiguities.
Show us mercy and explain
we are not detectives of secrecies
your spell with us reflects on the whodunits.
Oh time of things past and yet to come
give us a clue as to what is to derive!
“Remember”
it softly replies “Make most of your lives”
“Once I fly away no one can have a replay”.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 6:11 AM UTC
i seem to only see three constellations in the night
sky these days... the modo -
it be the sign of: the age of scorpio,
there's but the big & little dipper (respectively)
º
º
º
º
º
º
º
do these people really need to be spoon fed?
the smaller dipper is akin to the big
dipper, hence to write in the other
and last constellation (minus that odd rhombus
without a name) -
and believe me when i say: orthodox
astrology doesn't agree with me:
º
º
º
º
º
º º
i guess i managed to draw the right
schematic,
besides the point, there are but
three constellations in the night sky
around here, and one is a revisionist take
on the scorpio...
**** you hippies, and your age of aquarius,
this is what a scorpion looks like,
and nothing what you've indicated,
i'm starting to think that astrologists
did poorly in geometry class...
but i'll end it on a positive note...
*there is more dignity in being ascribed an
epitaph, than being given a "proper" burial...*
and by "proper" i mean: the leech family
members waiting for inheritance,
the sycophantic actors of attendance -
throw me into a mass grave, i don't mind
for a "proper" burial...
there is no dignity in whatever burial
ensues as many will do...
but allow man to transcend
the date of birth ** / yy / zz
and the date of death zz / yy / **
with an epitaph...
however "wise" the man was in life,
his dignity only arrives postmortem,
in the form of an epitaph...
but one epitaph overshadows a thousand
quotable mentions of the man, when alive,
but one epitaph of a david,
overcomes the oeuvre of maxims of a goliath.
whatever argument for light pollution exists,
even when in the scottish highlands
i didn't see any more stars...
there are only three constellations in play
on the night sky,
and one of them is the genuine scorpio
constellation,
with the orthodox constellation being
bogus, fake, unnecessary...
i, i've spotted the constellation of scorpio,
and i did so: with my naked eyes!
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 8:21 PM UTC
Lovely Spring,
A brief sweet thing,
Is swift on the wing;
Gracious Summer,
A slow sweet comer,
Hastens past;
Autumn while sweet
Is all incomplete
With a moaning blast,--
Nothing can last,
Can be cleaved unto,
Can be dwelt upon;
It is hurried through,
It is come and gone,
Undone it cannot be done,
It is ever to do,
Ever old, ever new,
Ever waxing old
And lapsing to Winter cold.
3.4k
*Cimmerian Chaos, incediary
The Requiem of the Revenant:
Tis I,
The Breathing Song
Conjuring a vestige,
Ensorcelled by what I'd been envisaging.
Maimed by Tempus, The Temporal Arbiter
Words reverberating on the wavelength of my soul
Left me vibrating desolate and wayworn.
Utterances deluging me in the Dominion of Doubt
Until I reached a crossroads
For perilous was the pilgrimage I peregrinated.
The Penultimate Tribulation has begun
And though angst is festering in my flesh,
The Sacred Lotus of Dreams has not wilted,
Shalt it ever upon the Lake of the Holy Oracle;
Elysium of the Soul is awaiting those who are stalwart
In the Visage of the Shadows.*
∞Hallelujah∞
By Sanders M. Foulke III
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 5:32 AM UTC
Touch a rush
Floral green trim
A dress of deceit
Ferocious credibility
Strike, shock and distraught
Question her everything
A maddening cluttered up chest
Red unprinted marking
She is a tempus tip toeing
Digesting hearts of many
Warned, they crawl
Enthralled, lurking for her gore
Her dress tore in natural beauty
Cleaning syrup from her finger tips
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 1:30 PM UTC
Tempus Fugit:
Nought is eternal,
Nox is ephemeral,
And
The Charred Canvas
Of
The Night Sky
(Noctis Lucis Caelum,
Scala Ad Caelum)
Bedarkened & besmirched, bespeaks
A
Love-Worn Wayward, Wayworn.
In the
Citadel
Of mine
Temporal Heart
Time
Streams infinitely
As an
Exhalation of The Ethereal One.
The Chronology of
The Arbiter of Fates
Shalt Destine,
Herald Eternitas
Upon
The Phantasmagoric Horizon
Of
Mine Mind's Sky
Wondering
Upon
Days of Yore.
(The Hither,
The Thither,
And
The Morrow.)
These
Luminescent Children are
Are born
To wax Luminaries
Then,
Wax Nebulous
For all eternity.
O, Metempsychosis;
Born of
Edicts Unseen,
Of that
Which was,
Is,
&
Will Be.
(For
All things
Are
Circular & Cycling,
Existentially.)
We were conceived
Infinitely
To
Infinity
And beyond.
Let He, Let She
Whose
Ears & Eyes
Of
The Unuttered Anima
Be unstopped, unfurled
To resonations:
Deep within.
The Emerald Lifestream Anew
Dost begin.
The Sovereign of Songbirds sings
Esprit d' amour
To those who wait.
(Se' Lah.)
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 5:21 PM UTC
Time is just a concept, a moment with a name.
Something in-which can never be evaded.
A freedom, lost in the concept,
bound to a ticking clock.
We want to forget.
Just for now.
Begone.
in
our
swirling
vortex.
Take me back to the day,
that moment with a name.
A time: where I was meant to be.
My thoughts clouded with sage.
A haze pushing me side-ways.
My black memory's.
Time is just a concept,
in-which we can never repair.
No going back-ways,
all will have to remain.
No-one to blame,
the fates will withhold.
And nothing will ever be foretold...
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
-Love-
The quintessence of my being ails for the novel; the liberating; the metamorphosing elements of the terrene.
The philosophy of life has always been to search for the sacred truths with the passing of time; tempus.
The answers have been right in front of me.
The concept of finality has been an ailment of my mind; this malady had a paranoia inducing effect on me.
A surfeit of noxious thought can subdue one into nonexistence.
Never, no, rarely should one create a permanent state of tumult within their soul; one must look beyond what they first believe to be true.
-Love-
Without the absolute love, what is one?
The Divine has the Transcendental Power to heal all wounds…
-One must first ask-
The words have been lying here; stewing upon my tongue; awaiting a release for what has seemed to be an eternity.
In my mind the horizon has flashed before my eyes; a vivid vision of the world’s beauty has enraptured me.
Doves gliding off into the sunset; this must be a symbol of all the splendor that lies in store for me.
Enamorment; affinity; affection and all the virtuous elements of humanity have been consolidated in my midst.
They have been compounded before my eyes; a physical form has now been granted.
My heart now has a tangible source for the Elixir of World.
Blinded for but a moment, I departed into an alluring phantasy.
Unsure of where to search for a comrade, I looked to another plane of existence for solace.
There was an explosion of lust for what was once a forbidden dream of the kindest sort.
This dream, it was kind enough to grant me the strength to plow through all the turmoil of a scathing world.
I have given birth to a new feeling; a feeling of hope over the horizon.
How?
By allowing my deepest fears and latent intentions to be cast aside and to fade away into naught.
Earth is a constant melisma of unforeseen occurrence, pain, and heartache but it can also be a beacon for valor, gallant-heartedness, and altruism.
-Delirium is fading away from my consciousness-
My greatest fear has always been to grow and to exceed what I believed to be my true caliber.
Now the day has arrived for me to supersede all trepidation and to transcend the shackles of rigidity.
The storm clouds, they have departed.
The blossoms have begun to bud amongst the tightly packed soil of the terrene.
The sun has arisen from a nocturne of anticipation; this has effloresced into the genesis of a new dawn.
I have emerged from my cocoon and now the world seems so brand new to me.
I am prepared to soar high above the clouds.
I am a dove.
The horizon is mine for the taking.
I am a symbol of love.
From now, until the end of time,
Iridescently Efflorescent.
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 11:35 PM UTC
Cain slew Abel –
Thus began the parade of
Characters whose dynasties
We remember, who decorate
Our memories.
Abraham –
He gave us all the stars
In the sky, a greater lineage
Than the grains of sand
Slapped by seas.
Moses –
The babe in the bulrushes,
The prince turned traitor
Whose whiplashed back
Parted the Red Sea.
Tempus fugit –
Geo Washington, Thos
Jefferson, Alex Hamilton –
Madison, Adams, Franklin –
Minds who created, who
Dreamed, who begat.
How many names we find
In those first tumultuous
Years – warfare and love,
Duels and decadence,
Politics and party.
Scant years later, across
The pond – revolution is
Catching on – les français
Waged a ****** scene,
Ousting the régime.
What would become a
Baby democracy – birthed
More than one new flag
And song – yet lived to
Fight again and bleed.
History is ours to hear –
We respect the honorable,
Honor the drama, revere
The prudent and refight
The battles.
The District of Columbia
Paints a new canvas – she
Sings off key, her promises
Begging for whitewash, her
Patrons vice and folly.
What offspring will such as
These sire? Are they fathers
To found a new nation – to
Garner worldwide pride, or
To slay the abled?
Let the wings of victory
Carry us back to the days
Of greatness – let us exceed
In probity and virtue – let
Freedom succeed again.
© Lewis Bosworth, 3-2017
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 11:36 PM UTC
Tempus pro nemine manet
It's the day there comes
a knock on the door
and you open it to find
a government agent
with a glowing, hot iron.
You drop your drawers
and OLD is eternally
branded on your ***
It is painful, sad,
absurd and funny.
Sweet relief, too.
Never again must you
worry about getting old
or dying young.
You are old. It is official.
From now on there is
only older and older
until there isn't
and then the mystery.
Merrily, merrily,
merrily, merrily,
life and death,
but the same dream.
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 3:12 AM UTC
I had nothing
But time
I could see
The life of
It in all its
Fleeting
Terrible light
Wondering
Had I lived?
Was I the
Object in
Another's story?
Was that all
I ever was?
Could I
Be more?
Nothing but
Time and still
No answer
I had glimpsed
Into the mind
Of eternity
Perhaps the
Mind of god
And found
Nothing but
Silence
Oct 26, 2023
Oct 26, 2023 at 10:54 PM UTC
I don't write as much or
read as much as I did
in between classes and on
busses or under the bed
at three a.m. with light from
those glow-in-the-dark spoons
out of cereal boxes.
I forgot what it's like to
say i love you to family
and friends and they forgot,
too, around the time dad
stopped smoking and we
lost the house to a gambling
addiction -- they don't know
I know.
I missed the class on making
decisions and holding my
ground and learning to love
myself in that way that
the important people love
me.
I wasted time on drugs and
empty wants, promises--
ruined parts of me I see
on bookshelves and in
B flats on sheet music.
I sleep, I dream;
I tread softly, and I steal
the words better suited to
someone else but I missed
the class on expression, too.
Students and bosses and ones I met
for a moment on the street
laugh and it's always at me,
even when it's not; even when I hide in
plain sight, shoulders hunched, head
down, reciting
Yeats or Siken under my breath
like some mantra of
people with bigger, more
painful, beautiful pasts.
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 9:16 PM UTC
Time slips by me, wearing a disguise
I don't notice him stuffing my youth into a pocket as he passes.
Time slips by me and covers my eyes with magical glasses
So I don't notice the lines arriving on my face,
only
on the faces of others.
Time slips by and takes with it my friends' children, suddenly tall
Suddenly adult, suddenly married with children of their own.
Time slips and the hours turn to days turn to weeks turn into months and it is
suddenly
eight months since I touched you, since I kissed you, since we said goodbye.
Time went past and suddenly I am old,
Peering into misty autumn days, worrying about pensions and arthritis.
Time and tide wait for no one and the truth is that there has only ever been this moment... this now...
That even as I grasp hold of it, time snatched back into the past.
Remember when your grandmother told you time flies...tempus fugit... yesterday?
Time flies, it was forty, no forty-five years ago and
seven
seemed like an age to aspire to.
Living in the moment as we all have to do has dragged you to this place, and whether all your moments spill out of time's pocket at the moment of your death and parade past you in their toe-curling glory, or whether they simply fade into the winds of eternity at your passing...
remember to live before you die, experience the moments that you have to come and
breathe
in the pleasure of living.
Tomorrow and tomorrow are unravelling from the tapestry of time,
all you can do as they pass you by and ****** your moments away is to be alert to their passing and
kiss
the ones you love.
May 15, 2012
May 15, 2012 at 7:15 AM UTC
***Book One
(∞The Psalm of The Star Child∞)
The Precursor's Psalm I-V
To the Child of The Empyrean. For ye valleity stars shine.
(I) ―En Fortissimo
1 Tender with sentimentality,
I fathom you,
2 That you draw closer, nigh’ with every waking moment,
Closer to ensconce ‘twixt my embrace,
3 That your towering arms
May aegis these benighted bones.
4 The Vestibule of Our Souls shall be
Assoiled by an Arcadian Eternity,
5 Shall scintillate in my every blooded tear, shed garnetiferously,
―Upon my crucifix, our crucifix:
6 A penance, pardoning our transgressions prognostically
Before by romance, we touched erringly.
(Se'lah)
(II) Celestial Communion
1 O, Star Child,
May your beckoning
2 Sow the Seeds of Somnus upon the sanctimony
Festering in my faith,
3 (A besmirched hope)
Tarnished by my reverenc’d doubt.
4 O Minstrel of Manumission,
Will ye sing unto me ye SoulSong?
5 The Womb’d Aethers bleed,
The Terraqueous Mother conceives, Gaian a dream,
6 Her Luminous Brethren yearn
For the Arbiter of Fates.
(Se'lah)
(III) Song of Wishes
1 Velleity speaks,
It whispers,
2 In the twinkling of the stars.
When shall it end,
3 When
It has yet to begin?
4 Be still― and become one with all things,
As time fades, consciousness begins,
5 The Experiential Cascade:
All that was, all that is, & all that shall be,
6 Circular & Cycling,
Forevermore.
7 Know that there is a reason,
Know that there is a place,
8 Know that there is a person,
In this world for you.
9 Open up your heart and see,
All you were meant to see.
(Se'lah).
(IV) Spiritus de Tempus (Zeitgeist of the Future)
1 ―Blooming in Reminiscence
The Dreamscape glistens,
2 A Redolent Reverie wafts
The Tenuous Air amidst
3 Her Zephry'd Lightwaves
& Crystalline Pulsations.
4 Ardently I pine,
For thine visage, groping for a rhyme,
5 Whence I can gaze once more upon thine
Countenance sublime,
6 All desperations been defied,
For thee I reverberate Love, The Spirit of the Times.
(Se'lah)
(V) Bastion Heart
1 The agony in existentiality
Unravels undying piety
2 And
Cloistered in cadence of solitude,
3 I, the Somnolent One,
Am roused by The Heart’s Resonance.
4 In wanting, there is life,
In desirelessness, wanting still,
5 Know thine Power,
Indomitable Will:
6 The Couer & The Amour of the Spirit
Are immortal.
(Se'lah)***
May 19, 2019
May 19, 2019 at 8:05 AM UTC
ghostly beings in ghost-town streets
tourists dressed in night-gown sheets
empty shelves; empty shopper
tempus fugit; clockstopper
november fog; chilly bones
midnight leaves me so alone
i can't feel your warmth right now
can't see you in torchlight now
no miracles, no visions
no stars for me to wish on
just us and the freezing air
just you captured in their snare
just me and my own shortfall
a ghost who loves a mortal
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
Not like this.
the path you stumbled for,
left you for some footsteps of a goddess
that we never were sure of her existence.
He left you on the road
oh, beautiful landscape of all
such green trees, such brown leaves.
Do you wonder how I wonder?
wanderlust, collecting dust
of the wasted decades we had
of an item we never truly got to reckon it's form
I do not believe in time
it does not exist
break all hour glasses done.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 10:59 PM UTC
Beneath the skin / Behind the canvas
A fragile greeting found
This fragile tempest
Promised and unarmed
Unwrapped infinity
and sharing air
Anaphelbete for sharpness
Anorexic for fitting
Amnesia breaking
Mining Space
An unnerving echo in prayers
Please,
and now,
and why
There is a smile buried in the curtains
That is why our violence forgives
The lacuna is free
linen running unabated
Heavy comedy and rubber tires sail away
A stained glass sunrise
A signature war waiting under tickets
Neon spins everywhere
The taste of finger-nails
The bite of fingered-lips
Gone Again Left picking clouds
Beneath the roots
Above the rooftops
Dancing concrete with me
electronics off-beat eating the world shaking
Some where still to call us home
evacuating pain behind familiar windows
I whisper you a fire escape
a static ocean at your door
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 10:35 PM UTC
The cold dash in October
could break your ankle,
on some twig strewn iced river,
gusted by this uneasy Bravado.
And through this
we form a common bond
the strewn and promiser will led their merry dance.
It is better to shut your eyes and see again
and undream.
So rollick in the dew,
the resplendent Samphires will regrow.
For were we not pre destined
to edge towards the tidal marshes
and with dugout boats
voyage through the satisfied.
Tempus fugit awaits
to enrapture our intricacies.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 4:57 PM UTC
I remember how you’d say
We should spend time not money
But I spent my money on time
And not even my gold encrusted piece
Could freeze the moment you were mine
I can’t tell the difference,
Is it my watch ticking,
Heart beating or the metronome?
Is it the smoke or the pheromones?
You can’t remember the moans
But you remember how the liquor tricked you,
Made her loose
Made you lick her
And you found the gold mine at the meeting of her thighs,
It wasn’t only on her wrist and in her eyes
I’m not one to pray
But my knees got ******
From worshiping a Sunday kind of love
In the name of father time,
You - the sun
And my holy spirit
And I guess it’s true what they say
That nothing good happens after 2 AM
Then again, there was you
And then those 2 PM Monday blues
And it’s ironic how time heals all wounds,
but no drug, god or serum can save us from
tempus edax rerum
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 12:11 PM UTC
The Cossack waves came pounding in,
Turquoise horses with silver manes;
Each one charged in their line to win,
The sand interred their cold remains;
The subtle evening stole away
The late possessions of the sun
Until the jasmine’s lush bouquet
Snuffed his light and left him none;
The summer seemed so sure and strong,
Foundations poured with molten steel
That set the blue so high so long
We felt secure in our Bastille.
Each wave, each day, each season comes,
And all of them seem strong, alone,
But every single one succumbs;
Beneath each lovely face, the bone.
Every day, each moment, brings
The changes we might curse or bless,
But all the while the heart-beat sings:
“One less, one less, one less, one less.”
Apr 2, 2010
Apr 2, 2010 at 6:00 PM UTC
I. Aprilis
You wished the summer for no one
moments of white wilderness
stars in the blood
sepaled bees scatter
drown each day as all lights
unmade pollen blossoming among
fistfuls of paper tasks
busied thought scrolls with the Seen
afternoon feathers multiply
white honey of Aries
II. Julius
Months as paper pass flitting
through the screens that
separate outdoors from in where
light pools on an ancient carpet and
summer lay broken in pieces
on the floor like
so much shattered vinyl
what happens to the trapped light then, as
it ages, it thickens
curdles in the stale drapes
staunches awareness of
time the moon
is slowly
drifting away
from Earth
III. Octus
Apples fall on the rotten dusty ground we
threw them, trapped in the speckled atmosphere of decades
that never rinses clean you swore
we could see Venus if
the clouds would sit right
Aphrodite in blue jeans a ladder
in darkness is still
a ladder
IV. Januarius
Color dissolves and
hibernates underground grey winds
stampede through the Roman Year
like the ghosts of unchained thoroughbreds
all the bees have drowned their honey
spread thin across the blackened sky when
everything is upside down
stars become seeds
Mar 12, 2010
Mar 12, 2010 at 7:21 PM UTC
I built the playhouse
To withstand
The seige of time.
Like Hadrian,
I dismayed the border people.
Starlight shone through
Crescent moons
Like the Ishtar Gate of Babylon.
Children shrieked and wailed
Against those walls
As nomads in northern China,
Or Philistines in Jeruselum.
But time is a formidable outsider,
And my small walls would tumble
To the blasts of tempus trumpets.
My hand runs lovingly across
Your names on those
Memorial Walls.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 11:49 AM UTC
I I I I was immersed into Maria's mystic Veil
A relieving elegant relish of Rilke's mystic mist
Husked my binary perception as an Earthquake
Easily brimms off the mountainpeak white frozen blanket
And helps Angels to swoon for a magnificent time lapse speed-->
Up ornaments stiched with The Divine craft and Love on a
Flying carpet infatuated and melting from Sun's Immense impact
When making love twice a day, Lovingly fulfilled with an
Intimate bluhing beauty of dancing Clouds de Dawn trying to kiss
Dusk Cloudy deliverance. Resolve probably lied in many times
Read fluttering pages gazing Smiling Buddha who Knows of blissfi pi Lyrical Mandolin Elegies Obsessed With Seeking Answers By
Pressing against Many Hearts Foolishly Misinterpreted
Pointless Colouring As An Act Of Reciprocal Love To Central Black Portals Seeing Thee Gazed Into Intricate Reminiscing
Me of Tempus Fugit Fragile Sudden Sadness Easily Evoken By You
:::::
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 7:45 AM UTC
It's not yet the hour
that already flew past
The thin air runs smoothly
The hard thought
pulses fast
Beat-heart beats
All sound
as creature
retreats
Coming are the Winter ways
But tonite
we stand witness
to Tempus feint-play
Aside the River
Abreast the Well
Beneath the Earth
Cupping the Swell
With a Breath
Into the Breeze
We ignite new fire
And
‘Twixt these Veils
We effect our Tease
Oct 28, 2019
Oct 28, 2019 at 1:16 PM UTC