Freeze, time
Let no time move the hands
Of the ticking clock that counts
Down the hours of our time
Down the minutes of our lives
Let nothing disturb this bubble
Full of peace and tranquillity
The bus rumbles, so gentle
The lullaby of sleep
The soothing rhythm rocks us
Into sweet, quiet oblivion
And everyone but me
And everything but me
Are lost in the fantasy
Such peaceful, sweet fantasy
Only I am awake to recount
(Or so I think)
And reminiscence
Slumber is so rare these days
Gaze out the window and I see
A pool so deep and still
No ripples mar it's surface
Polished like clear marble
Yet deep murky green which warns
Of the unknown deep within
And the wooden soldiers about it
Trees so majestic and yet a piece
Of the serenity, a part of the scene,
Blending in to the tranquillity
Resonating in my heart
Yet this I see, outside the window
The very same window
The window of this time-space capsule
That seems to freeze time
A car, damaged perhaps
Bright in the sunlight
And people gathered about it,
But this only I see
Those others are still peacefully oblivious
Blind but happily so -
How tragic
And moving on, the scene rushing away
To a new one
Glass now reveals
So much more green
Blurring everything except grey roads
Into a gradient of green
I see, flecks of orange sitting
The green and beside,
Neon cones dismaying my sight
Reflective bests and metal machinery
Slicing these bits of imperfection
Taking nature into obedience
This, and so much more I see
My eyes opened to a whole new world
A world that I was blind to
The dust of the new cities blinding
And coating my eyes until
We are a blind species that can
No longer see the tiny details
We miss out the minute moments
Of wisdom and clarity
But alas again, all these I see
Mere words cannot describe such
Arousal of thought,
Inklings of inspiration,
Flashes of creativity and
Fantasies that exist only in minds
Such beautiful tragedy that
Time cannot halt and admire;
Time, so impatient; runs on and
My bubble bursts
YOU ARE READING
Tears Of The Rose
PoetryA. Ton. Of. Random. Poems. Just warning you. The poem that inspired the title of this book: Tears of the Rose A rose Is a prickly thing Armed with barbed thorns Stinging like thousands of merciless Bees that hover protectively Over their prize. Rose...
