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Open Poetry #48
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Professor Gloom
Member Elite
since 2000-07-23
Posts 3082
of Depression

0 posted 2013-01-18 07:12 AM



I notice their passing,
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday,
But barely, for they speed by,
Each added year it’s faster I can’t deny,
Days are events beyond the sun,
Lost in a haze continually spun.
Monday, Tuesday, Weday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday,
I’d like to mark each spin with joy,
But that never was this boy,
So I watch the passing from my room,
Till traded for the peace of the tomb
I continue in poverty and pain,
I continue in a modest gain.
Monday, Tuesday, Weday, Thursday, day, Saturday, Sunday,
I proceed with clock and calendar,
Always the underdog challenger,
Barely noticing those around me
Content if just let be.
Monday, day, Weday, Thursday, day, Sunday,
And if I find things that I’ve forgot
I blame it all on the speeding clock,
When I cannot do things done before
I blame that creeping calendar
With the vanishing years
Forgotten tears
And vague memories of passing days,
Day, Day, Day, Day,

Gloom


© Copyright 2013 Aszard Drazlom - All Rights Reserved
Victoria
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Ascendant
since 2000-08-12
Posts 5869

1 posted 2013-01-18 09:32 AM


And if I find things that I’ve forgot
I blame it all on the speeding clock,
When I cannot do things done before
I blame that creeping calendar

Nice writing Professor.Enjoyed reading your words again.

~Victoria

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
William Shakespeare

nakdthoughts
Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200
Between the Lines
2 posted 2013-01-30 10:42 AM


Yes, the passing of time  and  that which does not come to fruition does make for some dark days and  sometimes even forgetting which day it is.

M

jwesley
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-04-30
Posts 7563
Spring, Texas
3 posted 2013-01-30 11:56 AM


nicely done, prof!  Good rendering of the passing of time.

j.

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