I hereby revoke
time’s untimely yoke
and assert that time travel
is mine to invoke.
If clocks can be set
back or forward, I bet
I could set a calendar
without much regret.
And the time that I choose
would be mine to reuse
or rethink, or relive,
to gain or to lose.
A million years will go by
past the day that I die
and I’ll meet myself travelling
and ask for the time.
#201
“This is home now” middle-age tells age
“No, this is not home,” age replies, “and I will not stay.”
“Yes, you must. Give it a chance and you’ll find you like it here.”
“No, I won’t.“
“But you can’t live alone.”
“Says who?”
“You know you can’t. What if you fall?”
“What if a meteorite hit this place?”
Middle-age sighs.
“Is this because I wouldn’t let you have a pony?” Age asks.
“What?”
“We lived in town, we couldn’t have livestock in town.”
“No, it isn’t about that. I’ll help you unpack.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll be going back home tomorrow.”
“No, Mom, you won’t.”
“Stop treating me like a child.”
……………………….
“I moved grandma today,” says middle-age.
“Was that today?” says youth.
“You know damned well it was. I could have used your help.”
Youth sighs.
Middle-age knows the eyes are rolling even with her back turned.
“I bet Gramma was pissed.”
“Go do your homework.”
“Stop treating me like a child.”
…………………………….
Alone, middle age looks into her mirror.
“I wish someone would treat me like a child” she whispers.
#172
I admit my addiction to minutes and hours,
my passive submission to time’s evil powers.
Clocks are the scourge of all civilization.
I try to ignore them when I’m on vacation.
But when I’m at home I check with the clock
before eating or sleeping or going for walks.
At work there’s a clock that thinks it controls
my every move, my heart and my soul.
At least where I live we don’t pander to time
by forwarding backwards in reasonless rhyme.
Most disappointments in life can be laid
in the hands of a clock that cold heartedly said,
“Sorry, no time left to do what you want to.”
Ticking and tocking and tolling they taunt you.
To Hell with this ‘saving time’, daylight or not.
I say pull the plug and let ’em all rot!
#79
Linda Studley 