Time

Time is never an issue
when forgetfulness
reigns in all aspects.

Repetition is all one meets
at the market of old sins,
mistakes irretraceable,
pains without remedy or
further ado
hovers and whisper
whenever impression halts.

Flow you deed of no relief,
you misguided, yet sincere
act of visionary belief.

Arbitrary is belief and faith,
their names the dust
of TNT and dirty bombs.

Suppression is restricted
to impressions of violence
and wild pictures of heaven.

No bomb belt can halt
expiration and its beginning.

No rabid priest, or madman,
burning yet another faith,
can halt the night.




Poetry by Bob
Read 449 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2011-04-14 at 23:13

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
This text has been chosen to be featured on the front page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting it on our poetry web site.
2011-04-18



It's true. Despite good intentions and bad, night seems to keep on a-coming. Perhaps we should relax a little and maybe the rabid priests and madman will fade into the darkness.

I've enjoyed your poems today.

cheers.
2011-04-16