In Vino Veritas

 

Photo: WHB – Devon 2019  . . .  ©

Truth …  
In wine? 
Pull the other one. 
Stick it on me, babe 
I’ll believe it when I feel it 
 
Next you’ll be persuading me 
Love is blind 
When everyone knows 
However fickle 
It’s in the beholder’s ken 
The plaything of their whim 
Their only hope for the future 
 
Then 
You’ll be saying 
Time flies 
When we all know  
It sinks and swims 
Runs and stutters 
Can’t make its mind up 
Whether to be patient 
Or restive 
Anxious or unhurried 
 
And as for 
Life being for living 
Non sequiturs 
Don’t come better than that 
Its for laughing 
For crying 
But…. 
Above all it’s for dying 
For returning to the earth which spawned us 
For calling time on the pain of living 
 
For …  
And this we must remember …  
As the old song goes 
You can’t have one without the other. 
 
Sic transit gloria mundi 

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A Time For Laughing

 

Laughing lasses, Mirthful maids, 
Giggling girls and Merry misses.

    Life is long, Time for laughing,
    Merry moments, Chat and chaffing

 

Joyful jesters, Blissful belles, 
Fun figures and Fierce Friends.

    Life is here, but Time is passing,
    Let’s have fun, Let’s keep laughing.

 

Jolly japes for Blissful babes, 
Jocund jollies and Dizzy days.

    Let us sing and Let us dance, 
    Life is short, Let’s Time enhance. 

 

‘Tell Me’ – A Crown Cinquain

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Crown Cinquain

 

Tell me
Pretty maiden
Where have you been hiding
Lost to me all these many years
Now found

Now found
And full of hope
I am able again
To live in bright expectation
Of joy

Of joy
Of coupled love
Rekindling lost passion
Rebirth for my expiring soul
Time heals

Time heals
The wounds of hurt
Complete again with you
Able again to face my world
In peace

In peace
We start again
The slate now wiped clean
The past dissolved in history
Hope lives

 

This poem has been composed in response to Abigail Gronway’s (‘Dark Side Of The Moon’) CPC Challenge published 12/4/19.  I quote: . . .

The Crown Cinquain

Like the Cinq-Cinquain that we studied last week, the Crown Cinquain, or Cinquain Chain, is also made up of a series of exactly five Crapsey Cinquains. So what’s the difference? I’m glad you asked. The distinguishing feature of the Crown Cinquain appears in the two-syllable lines at the beginning and end of each stanza, as they are used to link one stanza to another. This process is called a forming link, a chain, or a corona (hence crown).
To be more specific, the last line of each cinquain is repeated as the first line of the next cinquain.
There is one other slight difference. In the Cinq-Cinquain, the stanza breaks are optional; but in the Crown Cinquain, they are required.

So here in summary, is the Crown Cinquain:

a series of 5 [entire] Crapsey Cinquains, 25 lines total
syllabic count: 2-8-6-4-2 in each stanza
written with breaks between stanzas
rhyme is optional
last line of the previous cinquain repeated as first line of the next cinquain

 

Time’s Reckoning

TIME’S RECKONING

As my eyes closed on yesterday,

Its half-truths and its flaws,

My thoughts then turned to triumphs past,

To nights of warm applause.

To days of plenty, youth and promise,

When all was bright and brave,

When time’s sand filled the hour glass

And life a lustre gave.

I drank the spirit of success

With eagerness and hope;

No fears of failure, dread or loss,

Marred my horoscope.

But time demands a reckoning

And optimism fades.

Life has now passed beyond its cusp,

No more the accolades.

So now I seek content in friends,

Those who remain steadfast.

To them I owe my gratitude,

They are my valued past.

Positivity – HAIKU

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HAIKU

 

The passage of time

Leads me to a second life

Wherein I flourish. 

 

Time’s Imperative

Image – courtesy of pexels.com

As time ticks on and counts the days 
Leaving my past behind, 
I notice how my history fades,
I become both deaf and blind.

Time holds its head above the crowd 
Perceiving what’s ahead,
But never looking back to see
What I have heard and said. 

Relentless in its forward tread
And ruthlessly intent
On making sure the future comes,
On certitude hell bent.

Oh, tell me then pig-headed Time,
Why this relentless pace
Cannot be paused allowing me
To stay life’s hectic race.

If I could stop your clock and cause
One single beat to sever,
I’d grasp that moment with both hands
And live in it for ever.

 

A Conundrum

Sycamore helicopter seedlings: Photo – WHB 2018

The ant that scampers from my tread,
Does it feel the fear, the dread, 
The threatened onslaught of my shoe,
Does it fear as I would do?

Does it wonder if the rest – 
His sibling brothers in the nest – 
Would miss him if he did not return
Would they show the least concern?

Or would his absence not be noted; 
Never mentioned, never quoted? 
Just another gap in time,
Neither sordid nor sublime.

I ask God in my ignorance,
What then is the difference
Between this threatened ant and me;
Which of us should cease to be? 

 

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The Detritus Of Time

 [ Wednesday Replay # 5 ] 

Previously Posted on September 6, 2016

 

TIME’S  DETRITUS

Once upon a time,
In a pool and mired in grime,
I found a body, floating high.
A desolate place to die.

A basin for a tomb;
Blue plastic for a shroud.
A watery necropolis
For beauty now anonymous.

Abandoned, left to rot,
That was to be her lot.
Discarded and bereft,
Beauty the sands of time had left.

She’s found a resting place
Without sacrament or grace.
Long ago loved but now
The victim of a broken vow.

This unseemly end
My heart did rend.
‘The detritus of time’
Will end my rhyme.

 

The photograph was taken by me in 2004 on a farm in East Devon, England.

LOVE IS . . .

 

 

LOVE is the icing on life’s cake

The sweetness added to its floury mix.

Long may it last to succour my soul’s fate,

Still caring as life’s tireless timepiece ticks.

 

 

TIME – A Sonnet

‘Head of Adam’ Copy in Pencil of Michelangelo’s painting in the Sistine Chapel. Vatican City, Rome … by WHB -1981

The dust of borrowed time 

Has settled on my soul 

Clogging my receptors, 

Taking further toll

On my retreating days 

Aware as I am now 

How limited my gaze

Which cannot tell me how

Much latitude I have

How bad will be the weather

My seasons tell my stories 

Now all have come together 

Time reaches out to garner me

I’m handing in my history’s key.