And it occurred to me
That these are the days
Each 24 hours long
(As decided by some surmising doing being some thousand years ago)
These are the days
Through which we rush headlong
Like children hounded by bells
School is out
It is in
Lessons in session
Heads down we forge ahead
Fall behind
This school of life
Constantly honing us at the crucible of strife and dissatisfaction
We pay our taxes
And are swallowed by the worry beast
It spits us out
There goes the bell again
We appear
Dishevelled, our shoes on the wrong feet
Trying
Striving
Pushing for peak performance
Standing on stages
We have reached through tripping up stairs, hearts knocking in chests that are crushed too often in defeat
Drinking coffee in copious throw away cups
Consuming everything around us in an attempt to satisfy that empty feeling that whispers
We are still not enough
Still not enough
Yet this is all there is of us
These 24 hours that we stuff with stuff and then throw away in our morning paper cups
Piles of rubbish
Like burrows dug
Rising out there – at the town dump – where we cannot see our shameful leavings of broken pieces
Constantly discarding
Shedding and losing sense of any direction in which we could be heading
North?
Ahh yes but it depends which way your standing
Direction is so
Personal
Direction
Is so pertinent
Yet systems and facilities
Governments and legislation
Pushing compass needles into clocks
Chaining and subduing every wild thought by virtue of
Reports and graphs that weigh mightily on the mind and must be returned by June O’clock deadlines
So we wait in queues
On phonelines to someone who may answer or not
Barely human – they sit tied to another compass clock
Perhaps in one of those other directionless countries
And we spend our time
With gold dollar coins that have lost any value and certainly all shine
doodling in nearby notebooks that fill up pages with ever broadening and bewildering circles
In stuttering attempts to find meaning in who we are
What we came here for…
As if any of it matters
We are life itself
In all it’s glory
But we have snapped our huge potential into so many little pieces
Enormous trees
Reduced to matchsticks
Strike and burn
Toss and yearn
Look though here, you runaway child
Stop
Yes I too can hear the bell
Block your ears!
Don’t heed it, it rings from hell
It will ring
And ring
And somewhere work will begin again
Stop
Look
Oh runaway child
24 hours is not what it seems
You are bleeding from those scuffed up knees
And that suitcase of things
That you’re dragging
Is sitting on your heartfelt dreams
Crushing your chest
These hours
They are all that we have
Our lives pinned like flies
To calenders
Stored in electrical devices
That ping and prompt
And someone forgot
To tell us
Not
To throw them away
Unpin the day
The hour
Release them from time
They are all we get
Precious time indeed
Flies
These hours and days and weeks and years and moments
So fleeting
They reduce me to tears
Sliding down the cheek to set in stone
The writing it spoke to me as it sealed all those tombs
Rest In Peace
And after so much running
I guess they did
Whom?
Well it really isn’t relevant – they’ve left this sliding room
Tipped out the trapdoor at the bottom of the chute
Yet we forget
And forget
Despite bodies of evidence
That these hours we wake into
Are all we get
So when you ask “where did it all go?”
That time, it just went
It just went
And there goes that damn bell again
But before you hark and bow to the sound
Look behind it – to the moon still going down
In the vast ink black sky full of dying stars
They are already dead too you know
Out there
They died perhaps a thousand years prior
Yet we see their ghost lights if we look up
Fleeting little ghost lights
That’s all we are
Good luck
And may those running feet for just one moment today
Walk on earth that is real
And not in your head
Lest we forget
Rest In Peace
It’s the things etched in stone
That make you think and forget
But what would I know
I’ve only been here for a blink
And all those humans
Thinking
Running
Sifting
Time
Ever shifting
Swallowing stars
They’re gone
We all go
There are plenty of ways to beat time and muffle the bell – so many and I’m still finding them – hiking, photography, meditation, yoga, strolling with dogs (have you noticed how immersed the wise hound is in their surroundings?)
You won’t get an award for any of this and some will scoff and say you are wasting time …
Those people need a big hug – truly they’re just a wreck beneath that shiny bonnet of a brand new car to nowhere they are driving …
Enjoy the day
The hours and minutes
The ups and downs and everything in it
Truly – this is our life bad if we start dividing up piles in to the bits we like and the bits we don’t
Well,
More bean counting and hair splitting and wasting of precious commodities
A fragile piece of string – uncertain of its own length and left hanging around like the balloons already deflating that marked a child’s party
Right here perhaps – that is the only place it can ever be
But despite all the reminders I still forget – so thought I would write it down
Thanks for reading
What I like about your poetry is the stream of consciousness, the way it meanders from one impression to another. Almost like being pulled through a series of psychological inkblots. I can tell you are in fall there. Not winter yet?? Always the most poignant time of the year, I think. Your kids go to school in fall and winter there like we do here? I presume. But I loved school and then I was a teacher, so that seemed the time I was most emotionally turbulent, even though I wasn’t fond of deep winter. I loved the fall through Christmas. What is your weather like at Christmas time?
Hi Lyn lovely to hear from you. No, it is descending into deeper winter here now but we live in Queensland so it never snows but we do get heavy frosts at time and it’s certainly cold. For us anyway. Someone from England would probably still be swimming 😬. Christmas is usually hot, we still have a traditional roast mostly but have the aircon blasting and carols singing about snow and chestnuts playing the background 😁 I don’t mind the cold of winter but when grey clouds cover the sun and you can’t get warm – I have the inclination to go hibernate under the covers – the fireplace is lovely though.
I was thinking maybe winter…wasn’t sure. Hard to feature. Totally opposite from here? Air conditioning and prime rib? That still works for me. What do you have with it? I’m half English and roast beef and Yorkshire pudding still our tradition. I like the winter for a while. Here until mid-Feb. then I want to go somewhere warm a month or so. I do like the fireplace.
Traditional to the family is three roasts, ham, veges, cream potatoes, greens – I have my own things that I eat as rarely a meat eater anymore but I happily cook it for others and the smells of the kitchen are cognisant with childhood. I don’t do as many desserts. We used to have massive mains then a huge array of desserts when I was a kid – all the aunts would do their specialities. Things are smaller now I guess and I think as humans we are a little less large too – probably just my perspective has changed so much since childhood. Like when you go back to the family home and think “I’m sure everything was bigger” but you’re just taller. Wow that was a ramble sorry. I never noticed before social media how once side of the world was experiencing different weather – my gram feed is full of summer and beaches while I’m rugged up – kind of cool really how we get an insight into other worlds.
Yep, it’s really been cool on WordPress to get glimpses of those other worlds! THREE roasts? Wow. Sounds like a lovely feast.
That was beautiful 💙. I love the bell metaphor…that constant nag of artificial pressure imposed by modern life…
There is so many bells – silent or loud or just annoyingly announcing: the end of the dishwashing cycle, your meal is cooked, your clothes are washed, the car speaks, the phone beeps, and here I am whinging about every little convenience 😂
But were the lives of previous generations happier, without our conveniences?
Reminds me of the saying: when the phone was chained (i.e. corded) people were free.
It’s such a great saving and so very true – the more time we have the more we fill – it just speeds everything up. I think we need to go back to leaving the phone at home and washing the dishes by hand. No the clothes though…those washing machines are a marvellous invention 😁
I could read this over and over. There are so many layers of truth, so beautifully told.
“Those people need a big hug – truly they’re just a wreck beneath that shiny bonnet of a brand new car to nowhere they are driving …”…the great pursuit of the meaning of life all wrapped up in metal. And things. Disposable things. Everything based on the shininess of the gold-that holds no eternal value. The bells ring and we robotically obey its signaling. For some, these routines balance their bravery. For others, they proceed without passion of anything outside a screen or 4 walls. It’s so liberating to find freedom in the soul. You’re a light in this world my friend. ❤🤍💚
I think we think along the same lines Karla and have a similar vibration. I love reading your posts too. 💕
I’ve thought that too since I first found you here. I think heart and mind connections are so real. I appreciate your friendship and support so much. ❤️💕
Me too x