Hercolena Oliver (18 April 1969 / Durban South Africa)
When the time is ripe
When the time is ripe for certain things,
these'll appear as blossoms in many springs.
Humanity sought to know such as mirth
as changeable events on this earth.
In passing dissidence
are stagnant illusions of permanence.
occur as the world revolves around eclipse.
In present content
future strife came & went.
In artful purpose of setting time
wrongs & rights writes as rhyme.
Roses gathered in winter
are less likely than those of summer to wither.
In evening's mean
is evident grace of day that's been.
Yonder lies eternity throne
in passing yet another milestone.
is omnipresent in totality.
Environment change cannot be dissuaded
as many humbled unquiet dissuaded.
Time wasted in awaiting
fills memories with relating.
You instinctively know
where the dice will fall at throw.
Such is imagination
that it encourages participation.
Importance of every day's wait
is a repetition that is seldom late.
Every day life celebrated in abundace
can serve times of remorse & trouble to influence.
The clock ticks away with temperance
uncovering shallow endurance of man's perseverance.
Attachment to past
will seldom last.
Distance between this & that place
is measured as a solitary pace.
What will remain of seasons
is a myriad well-intentioned reasons.
In transient hour seek repentance
slowly towards penitance.
There is no escaping this troubled life
no more than a man plagued by a quarrelsome wife.
opt at end to be revealed.
Procratination of journeying round circle
reliquishes forever opportunities unfound.
Anticipation provides hopeful days.
Boundless perspectives can be viewed in multiple ways.
Prediction of future weather
is as ostensible as an animal's hide removed from leather.
No flower fragrance we know abides.
Earth eternally shows her various sides.
Stolen time passes anyway.
Change unwished for certainly results in dismay.
Time of finite nature
assists this fleeting world to mature.
Two puzzle pieces obsolete
placed together make puzzle complete.
Never again we see friends as they were,
as in growing old cares do deter.
One day at a time takes far too long
to call emerging matrix of melodious song.
In constant exchange
there's no holding back change.
The conscious day achieves little
for those searching to belittle.
A gloriuos season will cover with mountains
what were previously sprouting intentions
lead by fountains.
At times memories gathered do disperse,
looking backwards few events elucidate verse.
In not doing things right
is lost opportunity as it might.
As we exist through God today
destiny continues relentlessly on her way.
Discarded gems hardly diminish in value
so do not fret if someone undervalues you.
Continue to dream,
though life's as bad as it may seem.
Tempt fate until the day is done.
You have to endure shadow to appreciate the sun.
Fate may be cruel, but is also sublime
offering as present part of time.
Comments about this poem (When the time is ripe by Hercolena Oliver )
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