Time Trembles Poem by Tom Billsborough

Time Trembles

Rating: 5.0


Time trembles and rewinds.
The past becomes the future.
Translucent Dawn
Draws up her dark blue covers
And fructifying dreams appear
In reverse order.
Memory is now experience,
Silent, without systemic echo,
Familiar pathways resonate
Emerging from the shadow.
Replies precede each question
No tampering with words,
By sleight of tongue,
To hairbrush one event.
Time trembles and rewinds
Until I find myself tucked up
In that warm womb
Where consciousness begins and ends
Before the blinding lights
And the fake tunnel of death.

Friday, November 2, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: memory
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Nika Mcguin 27 January 2019

This is beautiful Tom! This seems to describe a feeling of enlightenment - in a dream-like state. For me, it's that feeling of subconsciously knowing the answers to all of your questions about life. Overall, I love the language of this poem and I love that we as readers are left with a warm feeling. Definitely a favorite.~

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tom billsborough 13 December 2018

I've just read your poem and it filled me with joy. So many beautiful names for places, conjuring up mystery and poetry. You have composed a fine song of your heart.

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S.zaynab Kamoonpuri 13 December 2018

A bit like time travel, down memory lane, the musings about memories and all done very poetically and superbly. Kudos for this fine poem. Soo nice to read from your inking again pleez do comment/review my newest poem too, titled, Dream Holiday places

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Bri Edwards 29 November 2018

hairbrush or airbrush? ? and in line #16: don't you want to say e d up? ? ? You KNOW you want to! ! let me read another; i think this is too highbrow (not eyebrow) for me. but i got to see Pamela's photo again. i think pamela is 'calling' you OLD! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! BRi (:

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Pamela Sinicrope 18 November 2018

Beautiful poem that only someone with some years of experience can write. I've been reading the poems of Peggy Freydberg lately, who I believed lived to be 106 or 7. I love her perspectives on love and memory and loss and routine. Your imagery is beautiful, you have such a way with words and their music. Time is a touchy thing and memories...(hairbrushed!) are often a comfort. Nothing is linear nor fixed, especially the past.

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Tom Billsborough

Tom Billsborough

Preston Lancashire England
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