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The fabric of time breathes
Pulling us this way

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From time, to time

All the more
they say,
I switch back
in time ..

To times,
I have been on a high
with all the love
poured with joy..

Towers

The towers, though goliath and glinting
all look the same, with four sides, four thousand windows,
four hundred workers all at their desks, clattering, and stretching

Take an easier path at times..!

The very day
I thought I had
all the time,
I actually had
none..

And now
when I forsee
the upcoming 
wave of moments,
the ticking clock
is already through
and done..

HAIKU: GIVEN THE SAME GIFT

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Given the same gift

That’s all

Two legs, that are columns, your roof of bone, blood, sinew,
housing your pantheon, your gods that were born from burnt meals,
falls off your bicycle, windows you leapt from, drainpipes
slid down, hearts your broke with unkind words, papers you tore
and launched off bridges you walked
in the night.

HAIKU: TRUE HAPPINESS

By Charles Robert Lindholm

MY HAIKU FOR YOU

LIFE’S TOO SHORT FOR ANYTHING

Gone Forever

Washing my laundry, I thought—
The time I have wasted.
I should have invested it

Where Are The Clocks?

Where have all the clocks gone?
I cannot tell the time,

not without one strapped to my wrist,
or that rectangular block
producing radiation by my thigh.

A test of time

Against the blue the old Town Hall
with yellow ochre walls
Declares aloud his history
from ageing hallowed halls
In Brighton now amidst the new
it stands aloof to change
Whilst all around the architects
make plans to rearrange

Welcome To The Encore

PAST

Past
Haunts me more
Than it ever did before
For it has a longer history to pour

Haunted
I stick to myself
Holding tight I wonder
More about the consequences
That could have been well mended

My Favorite Time of Day

I like the time of day when all is still,
The early morning crisp and cool and wet;

Time, A Marble

time, a marble

in our tender hands

hands held enough, to hold

It’s about Time

How could you?
How could you treat me so badly?

I NEED LONGER DAYS

By Charles Robert Lindholm

I need

longer days

to spend

with You

THOUGHTS

By Pratishruti Mohanty, Gina Gallyot and Charles Robert Lindholm

 

The past

was back to haunt her

with shadows

that bent over

and whispered your name

Counting the days

And I am watching time
I’m counting off the days
when I can tread those chalky paths
down hidden Downland ways

Spiralling

And so another weekend
and another week to come
Life continues, spiralling
with work and play and fun
And time continues marching
though at times I am bemused
as it can go slow or fast or even
backwards! I’m confused.

Nest of Wonder

fires, they gleam in rings

on your fingers, molten in amber

winds, they clasp as chains
on your eyes, in hollowed homes

snowfall, dance in buried silence

your feet, dream of voices to hold

waters, they clink as fireflies do

your heart, drip thoughts in the dark

Connected

If there’s a way from x to y
The space in which points live and die
Is more or less connected.

Happy New Year 2017

Poetry challenge: new  year poem.

.

A clock is very useful.
It marks away the past
With little jumps that we can count.
We know how long stuff lasts.

Christmas Present(s) Haiku

 

Christmas coming fast;
Soon the day will join the past.
Plan for the present(s).

 

(Image from here: https://pixabay.com/en/christmas-presents-gifts-red-1748347/. Labeled for noncommercial reuse.)

There Isn’t Time

I hope you realise before it’s already too late.. that there isn’t time.

There isn’t time for you to feel worthless,
There isn’t time for you to feel sorry for yourself,

There isn’t time to sink into the waters of the past,
There isn’t time to recount the failures of yesterday,
There isn’t time to dwell on relationships that didn’t last,
There isn’t time to repress the words you always wanted to say..

Saturn Peering through His Ring, Dreaming in the Dark

Ten thousand one wings in the lion’s ring,
Holy and houndish in pursuit from mountain;
Trembling are the shadows of the dogdayed age,
Widowed from the Summerland, adieu.

The Ancients

.

Wisdom Spanning countless Ages,

Witness to a thousand Dreams,

Watching from the Depths of Twilight,

Where Illusion masks more than it Seems.

A fall from grace II

Sadly now the Bridgewater Canal
a shadow of its glory days
is almost forgotten and hidden from view
in Manchester’s streets and broadways
Now twenty-first century pubs and bars
vie for trade where once it was steel
Nightlife and partying along its towpath
hide a wound that time cannot heal

Quintessence

.

Sleek and Unending

This river of Complexity

Heart and Soul

Seeking

Being

All that ever was and ever shall be