Time is red

Copyright Björn Rudberg

Copyright Björn Rudberg

Time is red
burn-rates building deficits
and draining benefits
when trains have gone
I’m left alone.
Seconds counting down
my sliding loss
in building debts
of tasks undone.

Time is red
pulsating blood
my temples strain
when cursing clocks.
Unbalanced stance
rolling on my heels
wilting embers into ash
when the time is dead.

Linked to Toads for Kerry’s flash 55 plus at toads. Also linked to PU.

March 1, 2015

63 responses to “Time is red

  1. Red is such an evocative colour – you have given it life and meaning that is so identifiable..i hope when the clock strikes twelve a little fun can come along like a white cloud..

  2. Indeed… Time might be thought to function in circles. But at the moment of loss it sure looks like a line, and our heart is certain we’ll never see the thing/person/opportunity again.

  3. I’m so glad I no longer live in that world of red clocks. Just reading this made my blood pressure spike.

  4. luv the photo you teamed this poem with; “time is red” you have sold me on this thesis, luv the images especially in Verse 2

    have a nice Sunday; thanks for stopping by my Sunday Lime

    much love…

  5. Never thught of time with a color….the red in this poem is perfect though. Pulsating, vibrant, burning, and then turning to ash, dead. There have been times I have thought of time is grey – after that red I suppose! The photo is good and works so well with this poem.

  6. I see red when time gets so pressured and when accounts run in the read–all a matter of time as red as you say. But I like the other kind of durations, which mingle with cool greens and flowers.

  7. I LOVE THIS!! Time is red is a perfect metaphor. We are always at a deficit, always needing more. The waiting, the rolling back on your heels, unsteady, building debts of talks undone, and then the anger, frustration, “seeing red.” The craftmanship lies in the econmy of words, Bjorn. Execellent poem. I am considering trying to write an antithetical poem in response.

  8. Red feels like the perfect color for time. Urgent, beating, pulsing, ticking and anxious. So many emotions come to mind. I love that.

  9. I see time being red similar to having little time to deal with what is important and needs to be done urgently. It does cause me to feel the strain too.

  10. Yes, I see it; time is red! Bright, bold, and daring, uncaring of life’s clock, it rushes on, speeds by, unstoppable, unreachable, but we continue the chase.


  11. Sometimes you feel as if there’s not enough time in the day it can leave you somewhat unsettled.

  12. “in building debts
    of tasks undone”

    brilliant turn of phrase, Björn. my debt could break a nation. {smile}

    and the photograph is amazing, as well!

  13. interesting thought in time being red…especially when that time is running out and we have much to do…i think we overpack our schedule at times leaving ourselves far too little time…

  14. Hope your not talking about overtime work Bjorn. i can definitely relate to this and it can be very frustrating, affecting life outside of work

  15. Nice 55 pair, Bjorn. I had no thought of a color for time, clever you are. Perhaps the red station clock set the tone for your thinking? It surely is a clean station, where is it? Other clean ones I’ve seen are Moscow and Washington D.C.

  16. Interesting. This set me ruminating about the various colors of time, in my life. I think, I like the color of dusk the best – though I’ll have to ponder awhile, on just what that would be.

  17. Bjorn,
    I could feel an impact as I read your words…A train coming closer with each word…Faster and faster, like the blood in veins…The tension was plausible…

  18. Classic poetry….
    Red Clock alerting the passengers…. Coming in June for a Scandinavian tour..I’d come to the station just to see this! 😉

  19. This red makes us alive…current….present….even on the dead side we need remember the vibrant opposite one…rhythm of your poem -far away from dead though… optimistic and positive….tall and sound. ~ thanks for visiting my blog in time of shift….what color is that, I wonder…

  20. Pingback: Time is Black | Not Enough Poetry·

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