"timekeeper" poems
(9-24-11 instrumental)
it takes 2 years to forget 6 years,
it takes 12 beers to forget your tears,
and it's those tears that flow so near,
this backyard that you hold so dear,
i held you here in better years,
i'd cheer you up, when i'd hear your fears,
the taste of beer and sky so clear
steer away now, it's in the rear,
view and that feels so cold,
i only see you through untagged photos,
youtubing high school talent shows,
or recitals, it's vital, that no one
actually knows, that i'm caught up
bought to get lost up,
another drink, another think,
i'm just a flawed ****
but i play it cool and act strong,
those other fools won't last long.
another sad song, i make it better,
got a new chick that's wetter cause
she aint afraid of that weather,
umbrellas discarded, in the bleachers,
teachers, gawking from the sidelines,
it's all fine, it's our time,
no need to dodge landmines...
call me minesweeper,
call me mindreader,
call me timekeeper,
call me justin bieber,
call me baby, baby baby,
call me jay-z, call me kanye,
call me all day, call me homewrecker,
call me and say i can do better,
call me about your sweater,
that's still at my place,
call me ghostface, call me action bronson,
call me hot one, call me ******* loser,
call me a waste of your time,
call me and say that this rhyme's, too simple,
call me jimmy kimmel, sarah silver-man.
i'm a better man, i'm business-man, i'm a gentle-man
i'm stan, writing this down in a crazy letter
no ink, self-mutilation and a feather,
better yet, i'm saying this outloud in the booth,
kick this rap game in the tooth with these red wing boots.
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 1:55 AM UTC
We draw hearts to say
I am in love with you
when love disappoints, we say
I am heartsick
when we fall deeply, we say
My heart did a slow somersault
when we know that the heart
is a drum, a pendulum, a clock.
On good days, it is a sundial
but it is always
just a timekeeper, the
tick
tick
tick
of minutes and seasons,
but never
forevers.
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 5:52 PM UTC
I spied a timekeeper
reposed upon a wall.
His burden too heavy,
the edifice too tall.
Tenderly I did lift
his old timepiece aloft,
and there inside he hid,
vulnerable and soft.
Patiently I waited;
I didn’t want him urged.
Torpidly time did move
before an eye emerged.
Then, as if he realized
all the time put to waste,
out came the other eye
with a little more haste.
Gently, he moved towards me
as the old church bell chimed;
shell lumbering above
and slime trailing behind.
And for me he kept
some of life’s precious time,
passing so pleasantly
for no reason or rhyme.
-Alyssa Myers
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC
Majestic old moss covered lion
standing guard over the locus of a pagan soul
and hedonistic bloodhounds ready to pounce
their muscles stretched in anticipation of feasting
An ancient timekeeper drips eternity in pearly drops
over and above the city of omniscience…
chalky faces embedded in the century old walls
I wonder about their cloaked, clandestine lives
The lady in white lost in peaceful contemplation
demure head ensconced within her flowery crown
presiding goddess over a temple of busy-ness
devotees scurrying beneath her perennial sight
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
20/08/06
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 5:29 AM UTC
A curious thing to reset an old clock:
Turning, churning, winding, minding
The delicate craftsmanship, rollicking spots
And gears, gears, gears.
How children delight in the noises and sights,
Ticking, ringing, turning, swinging
The pendulum flowing, eternally slowing
And falling, falling, falling.
Tumultuous ticking, the timekeeper turning
For each little hour to come and pass,
'Til one fateful second, the governor reckoned,
The clock should surely stop.
Jun 2, 2012
Jun 2, 2012 at 9:58 PM UTC
Ana knows I can't be alone,
So she will mourn by my side,
While I count down
From the start
When...
Love lived a decade ago;
Calendar dated 10th century,
Top chest smeared with last millennium's dust and dried rose petals,
Bottom shelf stacked with the Recent epoch's chronicles in scrolls,
And I wrote this anecdote during the late Eocene,
But I am now an era old;
Too short of memory to remember fairytales,
Too outgrown to believe magic tricks or play a game of chance,
Too outworn to have my heartstrings plucked,
Too callous to bear a soft spot,
Too archaic to belong in any contemporary world,
Too ancient for a technological revolution.
Fixed in a period that won't age,
Absent of a timekeeper, missing every timepiece;
My antique mind couldn't only smarten up for
This relic of a body, camouflaging skin-deep among prototypes,
Preserving the fossils of my endangered heart.
Maybe one day a noble clocksmith will come
And build us a time machine.
Maybe I'll have my youth back
When Ana teleports back to Erin,
Where her misplaced soul will finally be home with the gods,
For I think I'd do fine without her anymore,
As I land inside a time capsule,
Or wake up as a hand-me-down,
In time at long last with today's pendulum clock.
I'd be lucky if it's the clocksmith who takes such artifact.
But until such time warp,
Ana knows I can't be alone,
So she will mourn by my side,
While I count down
From the start
When...
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 9:26 AM UTC
Oscillating timekeeper ticks and tocs.
Pendulous seconds bumping time forward on the face of a clock.
Father Time, that Patriarchal chronometer
that martyr, master, commander and observer.
Watch the clock, it's moved forward, did you notice time moving?
Father Time so old, and bearded, a scythe by his side waiting to cull.
Waiting is dull.
Time is a lull, a lullaby before you die.
Cronus never steps back, always marches forwards
and we the human race, suspended in time, and space
watch the clock, wishing more time away with regret,
whilst watching the clocks face.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
It will never return
Every single day a wish sets sail
But nothing ever floats back
The constant churn of the tide
Is a clockwork peril
A nomadic timekeeper
Telling us over and over
And over again
The time has come
To look elsewhere
May 16, 2025
May 16, 2025 at 9:35 AM UTC
She couldn't understand why people wasted their time being in love
She had plenty of other things she could do with her time
He couldn't understand how people couldn't waste some time being in love
He didn't have many things to do with his time
How can you waste your time doing such silly things? She said
How can you not? He replied
Falling in love, spending time with that person, your time is thrown away to the wind. She couldn't understand
That wind flies it to it's Timekeeper. He understood
I don't have a timekeeper. A hint of animosity in her voice
I don't have any time. A hint of hint of intimation in his voice
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 8:25 PM UTC
The clock stands still-
the battery does not live any longer.
A man looks at me and asks
"Will you go?"
Fear is struck within me, and I cannot move.
My esophagus betrays me, allowing only choking sounds to be released.
I slowly close my eyes
trying to dream this mess away.
"No"
My voice quivers-
shaking just as my heart does.
I hear footsteps walking away from me-
heads shaking in disgust.
I can feel the ice freezing my soul
impeding my movement forward.
My life is frostbitten and I have lost the warmth.
A fire will never be sparked.
The clock fills me up-
it is the broken avatar of my spirit.
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 4:18 PM UTC
I put a lock on the clock
tied its hands with rope
if that made time still
halt its fast gallop!
There was an eerie silence
as lay dead the tool
with time now my slave
I could take it cool!
With there nothing to pass
I felt the burden off me
to lie back and relax
lead a life sans hurry!
For a while it seemed so nice
my time was what I liked to be
reading and writing and dreaming
walk hourless freely!
But soon boredom got me
grew a void of unease
a dead clock wasn’t that good
closed time killed my peace!
Time’s passage the timekeeper speaks
so we aren’t complacent too free
but keep the flow somewhat disciplined
by following a tool friendly!
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
time folds around warm kisses and freckled skin
stretching and pulling in
you are a timekeeper my friend
you touch my warmest spots and time just stops, existing.
the only thing left is the way you leave me feeling
tapdancing heartbeats and quivering thighs
intake laughter exhaled sighs
fingertips plunge, taking pleasure in what they have done
throbbing heat and buttons undone
you hold on to a pink petal presentation
slowly taste in hesitation
then with a delivered force
a quickening blow
eyes light up and a smile shows
You know what living with no time can mean
you take pleasure in what it does to me
hot pressed pull and pushing
ohh time keeper you know what you are doing
the pleasure you lead me too
has an equal rush in store for you
passion peek, time still speeds
I have you on your knees
i feel you close behind me
time freed is so fulfilling, so enlightening
time folds around heated skin
i hardly know what year we are in
we have been together for so long
its hard to see it, we still look so young.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 7:43 PM UTC
i love the rain it reminds me of you
every droplet a tender touch
at times, a storm or two
terrifying passion
you used to call us
lovers
we were always more than mere
man and woman
it keeps raining in these parts of town
raindrops falling causing
ripples on the ground
like my thoughts just going
round and round
"repetitive motion"
you sometimes whispered
my eyes drawn to you but
yours always to the ground
if irises are round
trace our line of sight in
perpendicular motions
i will be waiting in between
those moments your vision clears
anticipating the silent drop when
our eyes meet
turning two points into one
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 3:39 AM UTC
The word was out around the street
Tonight, behind Giannis bar
There would be really something special
From the bluesman and his guitar
For locals not for punters
Just for those upon the street
You'd better bring a lawn chair
If you wanted a good seat
The word spread fast and no one
Would miss this once they heard
New works from the bluesman
You had to take in every word
The bluesman was a legend
In this flawed, dark part of town
He only played back in the alley
That was where his show went down
At precisely eleven seventeen
The bluesman took his place
Upon his beat up orange crate
In his same familiar space
It was just like a cathedral
Underneath the golden moon
Quiet and forboding
As he started his first tune
The alley was the bluesmans church
As he sang to the street people
But this church had no walls or pews
No bells, it had no steeple
The bluesman sang of love and loss
Of dragons, ships and gin
He sang of Shubert, Bach and Liszt
He sang of constant sin
He looked but he saw no one
He was zoning, all alone
He sang songs of faith and hunger
Time to give the dog a bone
He played and drank his med-cin
For sometimes he got dry
The bluesman had the crowd entrapped
Beneath the shining moonlit sky
He talked of how his smoking
Through the years gave him his sound
It only took me fifty years
I'm surprised I'm still around
He sang of love and window panes
Of jealousy and trust
Of walruses and potholes
Of people turned to dust
As people sat in wonder
Of this prophet in disguise
You could see a certain twinkle
Deep in the bluesmans eyes
Gianni, stood off to the side
Timekeeper of the show
He signalled to the bluesman
One more and we must go
He had to close the restaurant
Turn the lights off in the back
So the bluesman took another sip
And grabbed a song from his minds pack
He finished up with something
Singing songs for all who came
He made them feel it was their heartsong
Although he never said a name
He sang of waitresses and barkeeps
Pawn brokers and of guests
of family and train tracks
of watchers and of quests
He finished up and packed away
His crate and his guitar
And he collected appreciation
In a two quart mason jar
The crowd left thirty dollars
almost ninety cents a seat
A fortune to the bluesman
And the folks here on the street
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 11:49 PM UTC
I wear my watch on the inside of my wrist keeping time by the pulsing of overfilled veins.
If I'm honest, the seconds pass blurry when you are around, red pounding at the blue surface reminding my life of it's vigorous momentum as the watch face marks it's disappearance.
I can do nothing about it's circular cycle, nor the manner in which I mirror it, recycling threadbare thoughts and feelings in ostensible new purpose.
I am a walking contradiction formed of practical mysticism and coffee stained teeth, spinning poetry from numb fingertips onto the ghosts of birch trees, fleeing from my wildest dreams.
Meet me,
half way between belief and reality at the junction of duality and I'll reveal I have no true identity - no creed no name no history,
only chaotic shifting and angry bumblebees drilling sinkholes for visitors toes to curl into as they fashion temporary homes in me.
I am solar soliloquy.
Astrological antiquity curses me to orbit you habitually.
Eye of the storm, hand of the beast, souls of the many downtrodden and hungry, asking for shoulders to stand upon shaky.
Grant me your three wishes, and I will conjure infinity from our palms clasped tight in secrecy.
Tell me,
neglectful lover,
when did my beauty become a pleasurable void, to be touched
yet left unseen,
when did my spirit become matter
buried under the mind of desire and empty chatter.
Humor me,
say that the meeting of our skin is more than physical proximity say,
that you dream of my flowers growing from your ribcage say,
that the gods granted us an opportunity for greatness,
say that our kiss is a portal to Andromeda and that you could get lost there forever - I know I have.
Yet, even light years away I hear the tick tocking ticktick of my heart bleeding into itself.
I am fleeting.
I am deafening.
I am a forgetful timekeeper,
late to my own re-birthing.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
Dear Mr. TimeKeeper
You took my time;
Something that was rightfully mine
No more time for this or that.
I want my time, rewind it back!
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 2:56 AM UTC
I.
She waits in the shade
Of a best-loved oak,
Where he once carved their names inside a heart:
"This means forever."
II.
The heart needs tending
--she visits from year-to-year.
Her security, a vow.
His constraint, a contract.
She made to open the door but he detained her,
A perjury.
Pruning stems, branching
--cognitively speaking--
Dead or alive.
III.
The landscape has changed:
This place no longer holds water.
Listen now for love's addendum,
Measured in the signal-to-noise ratio.
(You'll hear it all the time).
IV.
Oh, painfully leafless gray meadow.
Sufferance is a viable timekeeper,
When it storms the weak run for shelter.
Oct 21, 2019
Oct 21, 2019 at 6:36 PM UTC
I destroyed the entire universe
smashed every star
smothered every black hole
All life
extinguished and placed
in the palm of your hand
because you told me
you needed time and space
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 1:56 AM UTC
I arise to thee, beautiful pilgrim
Returning to the ***** of Winter,
Droving forth the winds once full of whims,
But now bound to thy will- oh Enchanter
Of the first dancing lights- by the promised
Arrival of the new Gods of the sky.
You wear the morning light- Remised
Of the nascent azure and its red Eye -
Like a veil, in mourning of the silence.
The kings and queens of burning summer,
The din of the humans’ blissful pretense,
Will soon seek the night like moths a taper
And tributaries of parched skin will be paid
To the pest that walks, the old timekeeper
And the shaft flies and leaves things unsaid.
Away! Hot and languishing despair
For I arise to dreams of the sprites of Winter,
And the light kisses my skin like sweet Death,
Oh! Sweet, sweet ghost of coldness, here, my wreath!
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
time can change
alot of things,
but you dug your nails in
and now, despite the
oceans between us
you're still the only one
my heart beats for.
Sep 12, 2019
Sep 12, 2019 at 4:55 PM UTC
I often wonder just who is the timekeeper of this our world
when something happens that seems to be out of the ordinary.
Even if it's only commonplace without much flair or sparkle
and whenever something begins or ends in our life's journey.
Some people may call it karma or destiny that is operating
and is the underlying principle or basic law of the universe.
But whatever happens requires an agent to set it in motion
whether done with intelligence or ignorance, good or evil.
An awareness to choose what options are available to take
and the motive or intention behind what someone decides
to do for whatever reason they may have at that point in time
seems to be one likely answer to the main question proposed.
Everything has a beginning and an ending in space and time
even the very fabric of space and time itself won't forever last
as it itself is subject to the will of an indescribable infinite force
and almighty existence which expresses itself as all the universe.
The timekeeper though, I think, wouldn't measure everything
that happens by the passage of time as such because as it is
It wouldn't be aware of anything else except itself to know;
only perhaps in a fantastic dream of its imagination on show.
Where it would have control over the extent of the dream
because it would all be happening within its own being
without any external influence to hinder it or otherwise
in the manifestation of this sport and play of the universe.
And as we are all made in the image of this Creator we have
been given free choice to do as we wish within certain limits
because we all live inside the infinite existence of His dream
and witness the ever changing aspects of that Glorious Power.
In fact we're all a part of that Glory and Power and use it to
create and manifest dreams within our own world or universe
with the extent of the imagination we're capable of realising
in our journey or progress within the fabric of space and time.
----------------
I would like to know just what is meant by the keeper of time
and the reason why any action doesn't stay around as a rhyme.
Unless of course one makes an effort to capture the moment
that may come about in time unexpectedly out of the foment.
____________________________
Mar 19, 2019
Mar 19, 2019 at 4:18 AM UTC
Maura gave me a watch
Many Christmasses ago;
Time and again its hands
Moved me.
It had a crystal face,
Nickel-plated case,
A golden crown,
Calendar window,
And a dial with Arabic numerals.
A ten dollar Timex
That made me feel like a million.
The brothers didn't have a watch,
But I had a second hand
For accurate readings
Of who could **** the longest,
Hold their breath for two minutes,
How long it took for the kettle to boil,
Or a snail to crawl.
Everything could be timed,
And timing, like my watch,
Was everything.
I was the timekeeper,
And took duties seriously.
I wore it on my left arm,
One day the sweep second froze,
The big and little hands stopped.
A spring or something broke;
The date was a constant
Grim reminder.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 8:48 AM UTC
From love's facination the joy and pain of it all they slowly pull their questing hand away from flickering flame away from love or loss.
Frisky and coye a first then they quickly see the spectre of past demons of bloodied hearts ..deception then they recede and begin to dance ..
As
They turn their minds away to havens built from the rubble of yesterday..fall away.
To bastion and barricades they made from fantasies of the highest grade " my heart of heart cant take the chance of another love found and another love lost"
SO..FALL AWAY THEY MUST.
The clock ticks forward
Never back and so the dance proceeds
A dirge as understudy seeking solace centerstage seeking. Wanting.desirous. envious and confused.
An ember still seeking air it sits hopefully in hearts all dressed up in pounding chest.
Again the moment sits there the tick the tock from love's timekeeper time reaper and so the the moment passes as she turns askance with fears well justified.
She turns the lock as tumblers catch the safety latched.
Dreams at bay.
Hopes astray
Needs neatly wrapped and tucked away.
Love, love go.away come again some other day.
Sweet nothings how they capture.keens to rapture
Just love me please for what I am,love me with no reservations . See deeeper than my fears. Take my hand and lead.the dance but love past all other. The silent request.
In the moments heat turned slow deception. They learn to
Fall away
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
They’d shovelled her husband into the ground
Before she got to the grave,
She wasn’t able to keep good time
And her husband used to rave:
‘I spend my life, waiting for you,
You’ll be late for your funeral,’
That wasn’t due, but it may come true,
She was late for his, do tell!
He wasn’t a very pleasant man
He was known for his violent moods,
She’d married the guy, then wondered why,
He was often downright rude.
She knew what he was capable of
For he’d often flipped his lid,
And left a trail of destruction then
For that was the thing he did.
If only she had got to the grave
In time for a swift goodbye,
And with a spray, sent him away,
She may have just heard him sigh.
But he must have known she was still at home
When the hearse, with him inside,
Arrived at the local cemetery
On time, but without his bride.
She lay awake in the bed that night
And thought she could hear him breathe,
Just across from her pillowcase
And her breast began to heave.
The wind sough-soughed at the windowsill
And she heard a step on the stair,
She wished for once she had been on time
To know she had left him there.
But she hadn’t seen the coffin drop
And the hole was almost full,
She’d asked that they uncover it
But she didn’t have the pull.
She only hoped he was six feet down
Unable to get back out,
When there was a rattle, out on the porch
And she heard a dead man shout.
‘Late, you’re late, you’re always late,’
It moaned, in an eerie tone,
‘You couldn’t get to the grave on time
So you left me all alone.
You’d not come even to say goodbye
And for that, you’ll pay the price,
For I’ll reach out of the grave tonight
And I promise, it won’t be nice!’
The shutters began to rattle and bang
And the door flew out, ajar,
The wind howled in like a taste of sin
‘I know just where you are!’
She shrieked, and pulled the covers up
And placed them over her head,
‘You just can’t stay, please go away,
You can’t be here, you’re dead!’
The covers were torn from her huddled form
And from what the coroner said,
‘Her face was white, she died of fright,’
Curled up in her lonely bed.
There was just one thing in the autopsy
That was missed, and he made a note,
The thing was botched, for her husbands watch
He found, was lodged in her throat.
David Lewis Paget
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 4:36 AM UTC
ocean waves
embedded
in our veins
a steady clap of hands
sticks beat upon
the hollowed drums
the sound of cymbals
and tambourines
ocean waves
are full of rhythm and song
witness
the
timekeeper of
the universe
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC