Author: Rhymesalot

Time Travels

Shuffling through the shifting sands.
Time is written in our hands.
Traversing all; sea and lands.
Around and around for second strands.
~
Looking past our treasured finds,
the future’s seen in our minds.
Collages made of all kinds,
bloods the bond that blurs and binds.
~
Legs propel for fear or fun,
the past remains; we cannot run.
Reality’s ours seek or shun,
the face is yours, the time’s begun.

~*~
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Kick Start

Mornings begin in silence.
The sun is yet to rise.
Sitting in the darkness,
I’ve no need for my disguise.
~
The black fades to purple.
The time comes into view.
Will the focus be clear,
or another shade of blue?
~
Light fills my eyes,
night escapes my head.
Thoughts invade my senses,
grays turn into dread.
~
How will I be seen today?
The mirror reflects my fright.
The clock dictates my future.
Doubts cloud my sight.
~
Daring’s at the ready,
necessity turned up high.
The door cautiously opened.
To fear I welcome good-bye.

~*~
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Just Poet

To be a poet one must only write.
And be in awe of day and night.
Inspiration abounds without refrain.
Absorb all, both pleasure and pain.
~
I didn’t ask to be me or you, you.
But to express is what we do.
Not all writes can be a song.
But no writes are ever wrong.
~
Dawn welcomes most every day.
Shadows of the dark go either way.
Sleep’s never quite enough.
Dreams fill time with better stuff.
~
And love it seems is part of the deal.
Hearts will break, to bleed we heal.
The soul burns to see the light.
To be a poet one must only write.

~*~
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Space

Penned in my head words leak out.
Even tone’s seen with never a shout.
There’s no laughter, whispers or a scream.
The sun doesn’t shine nor does the moon beam.
~
In two dimensions my thoughts do lie.
Depth filtered through one blind eye.
Torn between paper and time,
my heart beats on rhythm and rhyme.
~
Love’s too easy when inspiration’s free.
Fear’s too real when the enemy’s me.
Fantasy’s seen with a panoramic view.
Consumption’s felt when all the colors blue.
~
Life’s many a hue with every shade of gray.
But black and white’s what we read every day.
Yesterday shapes where our todays begin.
And tomorrows start when life leaks in.

~*~
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Patchwork

I woke today in a fog.
But autumn’s now in view.
There’ll be more days of sky high temps,
though fortunately just a few.
~
My body’s burned with a patchwork tan,
the grass a patchwork of brown.
Smiles await bluer skies,
but for now I’ve still a frown.
~
Perhaps today I’ll write a poem,
better than those before.
I used to say that every day,
but now I’m not so sure.
~
Like the seasons, time does change,
creativity comes and goes.
Inspiration’s all around,
but negativity grows and grows.
~
I need a cool crisp morning,
with leaf of red and gold.
Though summers can be wonderful,
this one’s getting old.
~
Maybe it’s just a fantasy,
thinking words will find their way.
Maybe the fantasy’s over,
of being joyous every day.
~
Peering up from my lap,
I see the fog starting to clear.
Though my paper is still blank,
I know a story’s near.
~
My eyes now wide open,
my pencil’s sharp and new.
Optimistically I scribble a word,
the clouds now but few.
~
One word turns to another,
a third leads to a line.
Verses soon will follow,
and again the day is mine.
~
I’m glad this patchwork is over.
And I’m sure that you are too.
I’m thankful for your time today,
my inspiration being you.

~*~
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Bibliode

*

Time conveyed one to another

Volumes built upon each other

Leather bound illuminated stacks

Timely covers, spiny backs

Rag pressed, vellum crisp

Gilt edges awe with flourish

Foxed, toned, molded or torn

Paper sheathed, all’s to cherish

Labeled leaf beckon turns

Fiction fine, truth burns

Chapter’s start, ends remain

Hours lost, worlds to gain

Drafts waft, hearts flutter

Time’s conveyed one to another

~*~

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Eon Sundries

Stages of life in our micro-sense

Evaluations of thus foretold in past-tense

Passion, conception and infancy

Childhood, adolescence and maturity

*

Individually formed randomly we conform

Collectively forged to an individual norm

Perceptions of fear dictate those to be free

Neolithic to renaissance and contemporary

*

Stages of our life’s in the macro-sense

Evaluating lucidity of generations hence

Passion’s the start, when universes collide

Conception lets the atoms decide

*

Infancy opens eyes to minds a-spark

Childhood informs our fears of the dark

Siblings diverge consistent with urge

Violence to surge with power to purge

*

The time of adolescence, fire’s conceived

Ash to the wind, a world’s perceived

Sharing thought, love and hate universally

A university of diversity in an ever-changing sea

*

Young adults craft their tools to impress

Civility’s conjured with mid-age regress

Maturity may follow, though yet to see

This micro macro juncture’s where we seem to be

*

Like time itself mankind has many stages

Dark or enlightened vary though ages

With eon sundries since time had begun

Immature conclusions foretell a sundry of one

~*~

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Shardatan

You think you know someone, then they turn.
Their actions are hurtful and cause for concern.
I know you have problems, as we all do.
I too have problems, but I wouldn’t steal from you.
~
I try not to hate, but sometimes it’s hard.
I try to find goodness, no more than a chard.
But when shards get smaller, they’re hard to find.
When shards unfound the friendship’s behind.
~
Your shard is now minuscule, as are you.
You screwed the wrong person, I know what to do.
I’ll do the right thing; that’s no match for a thief.
And when karma befalls, I’ll laugh with relief.

~*~
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Just Wood

Leaning lonely against the stand
silently awaits the touch of a hand
Heart strings needing a pluck or strum
or beating a bass note with a thumb

~

The neck longing for subtle caress
Highs and lows, notes relieve stress
Shapely bodies reverberate
Soulful vibrations stimulate

~

Anyone’s friend, they don’t segregate
whether booming volumes or sounds to sedate
A planet of harmony’s formed with six strings
Sharing their love as the whole world sings

~*~

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Give and Take

My mind is still, I know not why.
My eyes are open, I see the sky.
My ears are working, I hear the birds.
My mouth hangs open, but no words.
~
My hand fidgets with paper and pen.
Something will happen, but I know not when.
Perhaps some time is what I need.
And when it’s done more ink I’ll bleed.
~
But till then I will pursue,
all the feelings, but the blue.
I’ll live my life and I’ll dream.
I’ll have adventures, but none extreme.
~
Memories I’ll draw on a canvas bright,
stars will guide in the dark of night.
And when my thoughts again do flow,
it’s harmony I feel this I know.

~*~
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More Yore

We long for more;
those days of yore.
But not before the mall.
~
The air was clean,
stars were seen.
Masks worn at a ball.
~
Murders were less,
less guns, I guess.
Courage is earned after all.
~
The food then was real,
not freeze, nuke and peel.
Our body’s now a catchall.
~
Commercials were cheery,
now they are scary.
Someone’s going to fall.
~
Whoa! clock’s running fast,
the present’s now past.
The future’s now to befall.

~’~
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Ticks

Time for a fix, my daily need.
It’s not booze, powder or weed.
It’s just words, but they won’t flow.
The sun’s high and I want to go!
~
Just a drop to get me through.
The lines ready and my pencil too.
My grass is bagged; I need a light.
The spark’s gone where once was light.
~
Wants wanting and desires to fulfill.
Caffeine’s pumping, sugar’s my pill.
Jone’s are calling, it’s time to split.
Habits habitual, mine’s now lit.

~*~
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