time passes or maybe not
the tower clock
looking at the past
old photographs and films
– bright illusions
where is yesterday
a leaf falling
even for the mean
there will be a reckoning
and their spiteful deeds
will be opened to the sun
the past will catch them
and all their wormy sickness
soon everyone will see
what bides behind illusions
of false honeyed words
but eventually they fall
these self-proclaimed holy men
an empty illusion
life a passing dream
infamy – senseless egos
caught up in samsara
Time is of course something we use to mark the passing of our presence on Earth. Is time actually a reality. It would seem that some people give more importance to time than others. It would also seem that time can be a cultural affair to be interpreted wherever one happens to be. Perhaps what we call time, which more often than not is just how we organize our social affairs, is just a man-made invention and has nothing to do with the universe. Where is the reality of yesterday? Can you touch it, smell it – what colour is it. Where is the reality of tomorrow? Five seconds ago is already out of our reach and five minutes from now unattainable. The reality is that my conscious self is here now – and now it’s gone.
here and now
© G.s.k. ‘16
As the men shoveled in the spoonfuls of pasta, it was obvious that they could take no more. The contest had been organized to raise funds for a local orphanage.
Meredith looked on, looked around and finally walked away. Somehow, the contest reminded her of the film, “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?”. Maybe, this was all for a good cause, and maybe Mae West would have been justified in saying this was a wonderful example of too much of a good thing, but …
going to extremes for love
Too much of a good thing can be wonderful. – Mae West
Ligo Haibun Quote Prompt
Walking down fields at the end of October is a somber experience.
Just a few short months before, the first tender green sprouts of wheat showed their heads. The blackbirds sang at dawn. The first swallows appeared. Continue reading
Walking down the lonely country path, dark and drear
Though the flowers hinted that summer was not gone
My heart was heavy for my lost true love, dear
Off to war he’d been sent and was now passed-on
The face that I saw in my mind’s eye so clear
No consolation gave to me thus withdrawn…
I heard blackbird singing, so late in the year
Knew I then, that there would be a future dawn.
A change on Bastet and Sekhmet’s Library…the Sunday Walk will be a literary walk…the photographic walk is over at Through the Eye of Bastet!
The Sicilian octave (Italian: ottava siciliana or ottava napoletana, lit. “Neapolitan octave”) is a verse form consisting of eight lines of eleven syllables each, called a hendecasyllable. The form is common in late medieval Italian poetry. The form has a prescribed rhyme scheme: (A-B-A-B-A-B-A-B)
“Not only the thirsty seek the water, the water as well seeks the thirsty.” – Rumi
Walking down the path near the lake, contemplating the early morning silence, glad to be alone.
Sitting on a bench was a young women. She looked sad. Suddenly our eyes met and I could have been peering into a 40 years younger me in a mirror. I recognized the tell-tale signs of the aftermath of an argument, the search for reasons behind unreasonable situations. How often, then, I’d wished for someone to be there, just be present so I didn’t feel so alone. We smiled. I hesitated only for a moment and went over to her.
“How about a cup of coffee?” I smiled.
“Yes, that would be great!” She replied.
Written for Ligo Haibun Challenge: Persian Words