Tempo Poem by Helen B. Norton
Tempo
Procrastination?
Not his game.
Repetition?
No refrains.
A restless unremitting stream
Without Intermission
You alone may say,
If he runs away
Empty or laden;
Fragmented or fruitful
The fugitive hours
From birth to mortality
Thursday, January 2, 2003
Topic(s) of this poem: birth
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Poems By Helen B. Norton
Best Poems
Best Member Poems
Best Classical Poems
New Poems
New Poets
Best Member Poets
Best Classical Poets
Explore Poems
Explore Poets
Poem Of The Day
Love Poems
Baby Poems
Death Poems
Sad Poems
Birthday Poems
Wedding Poems
Nature Poems
Sorry Poems
Hero Poems
Poetry E-Books
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
8/28/2026 7:47:35 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
