Category: Poems

I awake and try to pin this memory down with a sigh.

As some would pin and mount, a butterfly.

 Its bright wings stuck flat to the page,

At least, leaving a trace but destined to fade. 
As memories flit in and out of my half awake mind, 

At this part of my life where maturing,

I find, A growing awareness of time as it passes.

Nostalgic home movies come to me in flashes. 
In private screenings only for me, 

At the edge of my mind just half consciously, 

The loved ones gone but not lost, Play out their scenes of the past. 
What do they try to tell me, Waking me so from my sleep? 

Only to catch each moment as it drips, Heavily, like syrup, 

And savour its flavour on my lips. 
Not to struggle, panting, Through the passing tides of time, 

But to luxuriate in its warm waters, And peace, I will find. 
Press pause, breathe, observe, rewind.

Slow down, open the window, Look out at the view below.

 It’s all too beautiful to miss, For an important that, or an essential this. 
My memories are crowding around me to say, 

Live fully each instant of this new day. 

Fifty
Feels like the start of something new 
Feels pretty nifty

Fifty 
It’s  good to be here now with you 

Fifty 
Could go in for a little face lifty 
Maybe before I’m fifty two 

Fifty
Feels like I really grew 

Fifty 
It’s half a century of me and you 

Fifty 
Could be mutton dressed as lamb 
But I’m happy as I am 
Could be starting a decline 
But I’m feeling rather fine 
That could be cos of all the wine 

Fifty years of laughs and tears 
Fifty years of hopes and fears 
Fifty years of strange ideas 

Brought me up to now, to hear 

And with that i will say cheers!

 Slow down the moment, breathe it in
 See the floating filaments 
 of microscopic things.
 Taste on your lips the salt on the wind.
 Hear every sound, feel everything.

 And in the case you hit record, 
 These fleeting memories can be stored.
 How many moments passed me by in a flash?
 And what was more important, 
 than to make them last?

 But needy, greedy time absorbs you 
 in  your prime
 As a hungry hurricane, 
 destroys the hourglass,
 grain by grain,
 Flattening the days in its wake.

 Yes, time cannot be faked.
 Only, to be present in each second,
 Is a force with which it will reckon.