Inspiration outward bound
to sleep surrenders when the wheel
of fate turns luckless, still will reel,
like film slow motion stripped of sound,
as spirit tries to hold its ground.
Time and distance some say heal
aching heart with silent seal.
Distance, time, retain rebound
when someone else’s acts are found
too harsh. Time rarely will reveal
true cure for pain till Death’s cards deal
a last laugh rictus to confound
harsh stricture structures most invent
to soften life’s predicament.
What first seemed wonder hazy turned
as generations went their way,
while meanings lost through time, decay,
wheeled to new weal to wield well earned
admiration seldom spurned.
Revered turns dog-eared, what seemed ray
divine's soon tarnished, as men say
'has had it's day', to dust returned.
Thus time and distance cycles churned
amaze then maze, truth seldom stays
in clear perspective, interplays
'O tempora, O mores' - urned.
Rumble crumbles humbled by
R.I.P. bye line: Time does fly!
'O tempora, O mores' Cicero's First Oration against Catiline... mores pronounced with two syllables O what times! Oh what customs!
bye line: bye bye byline
1 June 2000 slightly revised with second sonnet added 12 August 2009
robi03_0908_robi03_0000 SXX DZX
for previous version see below
Time and Distance
Inspiration outward bound
to sleep surrenders when the wheel
of fate turns luckless, still will reel,
like film slow motion stripped of sound,
as spirit tries to hold its ground.
Time and distance some say heal
aching heart with silent seal.
Distance, time, retain rebound
when someone else’s acts are found
too harsh. Time rarely will reveal
true cure for pain till Death’s cards deal
a last laugh rictus to confound
the stricture structures most invent
to soften life’s predicament...
1 June 2000
Time and Distance Poem © Jonathan Robin
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem