Friday, January 23, 2015

Past-Immortal...(or The Fleeting Preciousness of It All)

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 Inhale, exhale, take all it will give, for these are life's moments we can never relive...

Sometimes I would stay Time's touches
To slow motion if I could
Exhume from relentless clutches
Mist on meadow, snow on wood
Frost on flowers, purple pleasure
Where alfalfa streams knee-deep
But Time runs in coursing measure
Panoramic moment-sweep

Time's pockets have holes pink, azure
While lips gape to drink what is
It dissolves like sugar-treasure
Always trading kiss for kiss
Neon pantomime swift-fading
Into frayed-edge images
Morning-noon-night promenading
As what is becomes what was

Thought might try to rearrange it
To slow motion now and then
I have learned, I cannot change it
Time's ever ‘remember-when’
So I close my eyes and let go
Savor every dum-de-dum
Before ink captures its echo
Past-immortal in a poem

© Janet Martin

Reading posts  like this one  reminds me anew of the fleeting preciousness of it all.

What is it? he asked softly and I like-soft replied, 'hoar-frost’ though I wanted to say 'Time'.

So we stood there,
Strangers with kindred souls,
Drinking silver silence
Out of a glass-colored world

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