Poem Series: Time: the time is over

The time started,
the time passed,
the time is over.

You can look back,
and see what was.

You can look here,
and see what is.

You can’t look forward though,
because it hasn’t happened.

The time was spent,
and words of time were written,
the time was spent,
and words of time were read.

The time started,
with some direction,
but if the journey led,
to any particular place,
is something that can be known,
only after some time.

Thank you,
for your time.


Poem Series: Time: As time goes

As time goes,
there’s an understanding,
that despite the appearance,
little changes,
as time goes.

As time goes,
having seen more time,
there’s a clarity,
that time repeats,
as time goes.

As time goes,
little impresses,
for though ‘everything changes’,
it doesn’t really,
as time goes.

As time goes,
there’s a realization,
that time goes,
despite the path,
as time goes.

Poem Series: Time: First Try anniversary

Four years ago,
M. Sakran’s collection of poetry,
First Try,
was published.

M. Sakran,
would like to take this time,
to thank all,
who have purchased a copy.

you haven’t purchased a copy,
this anniversary,
would be a good time.

you have the time,
you can read,
the first six poems,
of the book,
on this blog,
(scroll past,
the first post,
on that page,
to read,
the poems).

Thank you,
for your time.

Poem Series: Time: the melodramatic agony of being late for doughnuts in the breakroom

A desert
a wasteland
a place of bareness

a town of ghosts does dwell
the scent of a mirage does linger

with no respite
as emptiness grows inside

the time was wasted
the chance was wasted
the starkness speaks
with silent words

with what could have been
there hollowness
in the desert


P. S. If you like poems with melodramatic agony, there is another one on the blog. It was from March 14, 2018.

Poem Series: Time: Please take some time and read the words

It is Independence Day.
Please take some time,
read the words that were declared
all those years ago this day
and think of what they mean.

Note: This poem uses the experimental poetry form American Independence Day.

P. S. There is a new set of photography, artwork, poetry and fiction on MSakran.com.

P. S. S. Happy Independence Day.

Poem Series: Time: surgical waiting room

There are those
who speak of relativity
that it changes
by how you go.

Though they speak
of speed
they should speak
of stillness.

Sitting there
the hands moving
surrounded by stillness
it moves strangely.

It starts and stops
it jumps
it leaps
and falls.

The door opens
does death walk through?

The door opens
is there nothing there?

Though its passage
is wanted
its reversal
is more so.

To have it move
to have it run
to have it leap
and know the answer.

To have it move
to have it run
to have it leap
and know the truth.

The hands move
the door opens
the hands stop
the heart stops.

In a moment
of countless hours
signs and signals
are confusedly read.

After the moment
of countless seconds
everything falls
or lifts to the sky.

The truth
of relativity
is known not in space
but in the waiting room.

Poem Series: Time: sepia tones

You paint a picture
of your past
with sepia tones
and vintage clothes

but back then
in that time
the tones were clear
the clothes were new

there was no culture
no sense of era
no sense of things
now so easily defined

it wasn’t romantic
or nostalgic
it wasn’t a story
a movie in a listener’s mind

it wasn’t a story
something with music
no voiceover spoke
to add emotion

it wasn’t an image
some mysterious place
some far away
seen through a glass

it was real like this
it was solid like this
there was noise like this
there was dirt like this

it wasn’t history
something lived
thinking how the world
would look back

it wasn’t uniform
it wasn’t a decade
it wasn’t defined
by a song

it was real like this
it was solid like this
there was life like this
there was sense like this

but the stories are told
and the pictures are shown
and eyes look up
and imagine the tones

the black and white
with a sepia tint
of still photographs
and movie reels

the fedora hats
and tailored suits
seem ever present
no matter the time

and despite the knowledge
that all was real
the pictures are shown
with sepia tones

Poem Series: Time

It has been a while since there has been a poem series on this blog.  The last one appears to be the poem series: Dogs, which started on January 27, 2016 and ended February 9, 2016.  You can read the poems in that series, as well as in the ones before it, here: poem series.

Today will be the start of a new poem series.  The subject of the poem series will be time.

The series will consist of ten poems.  The poems will be posted in the next nine posts plus this post (for a total of ten), unless some event occurs to supersede the series, in which case the series will continue after the superseding.

Please enjoy the Time poem series.

Here is the first poem:

Looking back,
there’s the thought,
of all the different decisions,
that would be made.

Looking forward,
there’s the thought,
that one day,
will there be looking back,
with the thought,
of all the different decisions,
that would be made?

But in the present,
looking forward,
it’s hard to know,
what looking back,
will see.