Chasing Significant Amounts

There goes a second – whoosh!

and a minute

and an hour

and a day

and a week

and a month

there goes time

in all its incrementals

haven’t counted

but I have a hunch

that time spent in counting

would be a dreadful waste

what with how counting

just goes on

and on

and on

very much like time

in the infinite of space

it keeps tocking

while I’m singing my own song

it delves along

through the worm holes

and the black

it delivers and recovers

whether I am here

or there or not

time in all its measurements

regardless of how long

keeps on marching

even while I seem to stay on spot

noticed how the time goes

when I’m busy

and I work

I stop to look

and wonder

where it went

up to my eyeballs

barely stopped to see

but I know wherein

my time has all been spent


goes another

of Chronos’ little blocks

as I write

before returning

to my tasks

no time to explain

what is taking all my time

you’d be sorry

if you took the time to ask

I have a scythe

and I’m cutting

up a storm


my chores

into haystacks

crop’s almost harvested

blade is nearly blunt

the bearded bloke that lent it

wants it back

once it’s been milled

and we’re both returned

to sharp

I’ll be counting


stilled on pause

grey-beard guy will laugh

at my efforts to control

while I acknowledge

every past imperfect clause

stopped for a breath

and a fag

and a break

and some caffeine

to fill

my time cup full

ticky, ticky, tocky,

it’s passing while I talky

got to rush now

against the time-held rule

back in a while

note the use of while


notation none

to govern

or account

see you in a spell

sooner, later, all is well

just chasing time

in significant amounts.


only one eye knows the difference

but it shuts to see

oculus of moon’s reflections

nights that set it free

only one eye needs to notice

all that dark decrees

assimilated in observing

oracle that heeds

only one eye must to listen

other senses flee

cusping arcs of sight concession

one eye to truly see


Crystal Visions

He had the look of sailor

Bushy trim, inbled ink

Lips to liquid elegance

Gave me cause to think

I saw his soul

People passed in passing

As they passed and passed on by

I was caught from passing

By reflections in his eye

I saw his soul

In vino told his verity

Crystal goblet crimson stained

Identity invisible

Absent but for pain

I saw his soul

He mused of distant lands, he spoke

Of places he had been

Of service, home, his children

And a wife he’d hardly seen

I saw his soul

He told of losing hope and faith

Of wishing death’s release

Of deepest well he’d ever known

Of falling to his knees

I saw his soul

I asked him frankest questions

And he did not balk from truth

He analysed and after thought

Depicted foolish youth

I saw his soul

He did not ask, I never said

His wine was eloquent

I lived a little of his life’s

Redemptive glass, a gent,

I saw his soul

He gave me food for future

In the telling of his tale

I gave him gloves and scarf, a coin

And wished him fair thee well

I saw it all

‘Mankind Limited’


This book  ⇑⇑⇑ should be a movie. Somewhere in Hollywood right now there are actors waiting for their agents to deliver this story in script format to them. The makings of all action-packed adventure films is here. I can see the film in my mind’s eye.

But this one is different.

It’s not fast-paced for the thrill of it alone. It needs to be to get the message across. Mankind could be on the threshold of just such a future. Time is racing.

This one could be us.

Maybe a few years down the line yet, maybe already almost there in some similar format. Change a few details. Replace one group for another. Look behind the motives in politics and corporations. Stretch the reality just a little. Ask ourselves questions looking through the light of a different lens.

It feels like us, it acts like us, it may very well come to be.

It could be The Secret we all hold and may one day need.

The future may be closer than we think.

It only takes a small leap of imagination to take us from where we are now to Mankind Limited.

Scott Bailey is a writer I follow here on WordPress.

I downloaded his book a few weeks ago after reading an excerpt from it on his blog. It wasn’t until this week that I finally had the chance to read the book.  I like a good action-packed adventure as much as the next one but I liked, even more, what Scott communicated in the story.

I believe there is more to follow and I’ll be waiting. If we have time and I’m still aware…


Scott’s book is available through Amazon.

His blog can be found here.



dust of seemed swallow secured on grey slate

risen dessication its fate

forever entranced, disabled by time

flightless now ever in state

dust of arced angel arrested alone

ached by stillness in stone

nary the one nor other may move

struck in time, brief and long gone

impressions imprinted, immobilised

impossible gifts to new eyes

cast by creation then clefted to wait

separated from life ‘mid soft sighs

Dredging In The Zone

lost leviathan


amid clouds

seeking home

puffs dispersed

she looked upon me

blinked the briefest wink

and she was gone

left behind the promise

ovoid birthrights

devoid dragon

glimpsed alone

humoured by the sky

and deepest waters

untethered for a spell

met in the zone

In Moderation

Comments missed,

though unintended,

Default settings changed

to ease the strain,

Unmoderated, means

some got right by me,

Mortified I might

do this again.

Twiddled with the knobs,

reset the buttons,

Moderating so that

I won’t miss,

Always much appreciated, kindly,

take this poem as a virtual kiss.

This does mean, however,

that you’re pending,

And time is rarely seen

as my best friend

But I’d rather take the time

to answer always

Than risk the chance of

doing that again.

Apologies to kindly readers,

Don’t now know how many may have sneaked on by,

I’m trusting I can keep up, beg your patience,

Enemied by time but I will try.



The Artists

They came one day, you know, to restless spirits,

Strangers from a land far distant than we’d known,

Turned the tide of thinking, conquered limits,

Listened we, while learning what was shown.

They took all paintings, turned the easels sideways,

Abstracted truths from angles we had drawn,

Drew artistic from most basic wonders,

Revealed to us where sketches had gone wrong.

They painted beauty from a palette given

From worlds away we hoped one day to be,

Rainbow-hued with every nuance woven,

Brights and delicates we could not see.

Works of art they held up for our wonder,

Turned us upside down then set us straight,

Silent seconds, time stood still to ponder,

Patiently they tuned in to debate.

Revelations flashed amid our teardrops,

Teardrops fell and flooded, tinted shades

Every picture seen, a brand new story,

Colour-washed but clearer by the fade.

They left, you know, and we there standing, staring,

Gazing into past and future days,

Breathed new life, they did, unto the present,

Departed now in starry-brilliant haze.