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Array ( [sid] => 155789 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Of Change and Timeless Treasure [time] => 2009-12-09 20:06:08 [hometext] => [bodytext] => But I am too full
to swallow more ifs
and might-have-beens.

I took my bowl without complaint
and I will save the rest for later.
Is your bowl truly forged of steel?
Mine is made of gold -
It is soft and will not rust.
I shape it as you shape your swords.

And as you hoard your glass figurines
I collect abstract thoughts,
I try to keep them polished
so that they glimmer in the moonlight.

Time isn't so precious, really,
not when you have a pen in hand
and a keen eye trained
to watch for wilted rainbows.

I spent too many hours
trying to capture sunshine
on a cloudy day.
Too long I worshipped
what I should have loved.

I walk now -
I was too impatient to run.

Here and there I cross a bridge
and toss aside another
rigid set of rules
I break -
and recreate -
and take my time,
it is not too late.

And every time I have tried
to hide in the corner,
sensical things get in the way;
brooms sweep me out
and spin me around
towards fate
and away from destiny.

As of late
the mirror behind your eyes
has become a glass window.
Time was on my side,
and time was all it took
to realize that
only your words are blades,
and even they have dulled.

So now I give my bowl without complaint;
I took it with water,
perhaps I will fill it with sweet nectar
before I pass it down
to another of the faceless.

One day my hair
will be as silver as your sword,
but I will not rust away. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 211 [topic] => 73 [informant] => cetblue [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 20 [ratings] => 4 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )

Of Change and Timeless Treasure

Contributed by cetblue on Wednesday, 9th December 2009 @ 08:06:08 PM in AEST
Topic: abstract

But I am too full
to swallow more ifs
and might-have-beens.

I took my bowl without complaint
and I will save the rest for later.
Is your bowl truly forged of steel?
Mine is made of gold -
It is soft and will not rust.
I shape it as you shape your swords.

And as you hoard your glass figurines
I collect abstract thoughts,
I try to keep them polished
so that they glimmer in the moonlight.

Time isn't so precious, really,
not when you have a pen in hand
and a keen eye trained
to watch for wilted rainbows.

I spent too many hours
trying to capture sunshine
on a cloudy day.
Too long I worshipped
what I should have loved.

I walk now -
I was too impatient to run.

Here and there I cross a bridge
and toss aside another
rigid set of rules
I break -
and recreate -
and take my time,
it is not too late.

And every time I have tried
to hide in the corner,
sensical things get in the way;
brooms sweep me out
and spin me around
towards fate
and away from destiny.

As of late
the mirror behind your eyes
has become a glass window.
Time was on my side,
and time was all it took
to realize that
only your words are blades,
and even they have dulled.

So now I give my bowl without complaint;
I took it with water,
perhaps I will fill it with sweet nectar
before I pass it down
to another of the faceless.

One day my hair
will be as silver as your sword,
but I will not rust away.

Copyright © cetblue ... [ 2009-12-09 20:06:08]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Of Change and Timeless Treasure (User Rating: 1 )
by myheartsvoice on Thursday, 10th December 2009 @ 06:27:31 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

The tittle is epic, i could

not pass this poem by if

i were blind cause of it's

insistance to be read . . .

" One day my hair will be

as silver as your sword,

but I will not rust away. " . . .

What style, what insight,

what magnificence in this

poem, the last verse did

it for me, such power in it's

reflection and irony . . .

Ben . . .

Re: Of Change and Timeless Treasure (User Rating: 1 )
by Aspirant on Thursday, 10th December 2009 @ 07:22:15 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

This is my favourite poem on this site so far. You did a fantastic job balancing deep insight with simple language. The poem as a whole feels complete in a way that very few do.

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