Times a river passed

Time is less a moment than a river passed,
it’s the past and present, it’s the dreams of
what to be. It’s both the screams on streets
just after the suicide-bomber has pulled his
fuse and smell of roses in the old asylum.
Time is footsteps on the beach the waves
will wash away, it’s runes that’s carved in
granite, infinity and nought. Time is waves,
the wind and trees, an antipode of draught.
It’s rivulets and streams, it’s cascading joy,
a sluggish river filled with silt, but time will
always die, as stagnant water in a marsh.

Forest river by Ivan Shishkin

Forest river by Ivan Shishkin

A second offering on time for Lillian at dVerse Poetics

December 13, 2016

12 responses to “Times a river passed

  1. Twosies today! 🙂 Well, I much prefer the cascading joy to the stagnant water in the marsh. Time as movement…..invisible or as seen in rivulets, zig zags of lightning, screams heard and gone, footsteps deep then washed away….I like the idea of time as movement that we recognize in what we see —- hmmm, that would be wrinkles and greying hair too!

  2. Time is movement indeed. You’ve nailed it on the head. What happens is a result of the action therein. I like the smell of roses in the old asylum; like a still life portrait.

  3. I love the time capture in moments, waves and stillness in the rivers~
    This is my favorite part:
    Time is footsteps on the beach the waves
    will wash away, it’s runes that’s carved in
    granite, infinity and nought.

  4. Marvellously evoked moments that capture time…roses in the old asylum struck a chord with abandoned and decayed ruin-loving me

  5. Wow, Bjorn….this is quite the ‘soulful’ poem…and I agree…it’s more the meditation…which for me….is of a higher calling. Love all of this.

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