The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling.
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.

-W.Shakespeare

Wednesday 20 July 2011

Time Bandit: Poem

The Time Bandit

I woke today
To see him slip
Out and away,
I chase, I trip,

I fall, I stay
On the cold hard
Truth of yesterday.
Evidence of

His midnight play
Is marked by bare
Spots swept away.
I can only stare

As he will say
Through a wide smile;
“Sorry, my prey!
Linger awhile,

That I cannot
Try to do, or
Even stand the thought!”
What he said that for,

Left me distraught
And followed out
The door he had sought
Out to place doubt

Inside my thought:
That he could be
Something he’s not.
Rage you ruin me.

He has to be fought!
Surrender or fight.
Almost out of ear shot,
Out of eye sight.

I became aware
Of what has been
Caught in his snare;
Time stolen unseen

It was right there
On watch and clock
Now they are bare.
No more tick tock.


July 19th/2011

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