Time never finds time to linger on bright lights
from your finest stars,
nor time never offers time to reverse the darkest hours
of travel within your void.
Time never allows enough time to watch every slow motion
bloom of a child in your orchard,
and time always denies time to fully heal from the falls
caused by gravity’s constant tugging on your skin.
Yet, just when time seemed to erase the murkiness
from a morning sky,
under the eyelashes of sunflowers are still black pupils
where the seeds hide…
and just when time seemed to pull out colors
from a rising sun,
midnight remains seized by splotches of invisible ice
on the asphalt.
Time is now a revitalized trend of wearing designer hats and stylish wigs
to blanket a barren scalp that suddenly
dropped your signature maple leaves…
time now comes to alleviate any photogenic personality
from your eyebrows that always
balanced your face, accented your smile…
and time now sustains the chemical waiting game that toggles
hope and despair within your civil war as told by
the many closed door days your office displays.
This kind of time though, elevates you higher than
any other time of your life,
for you can look through a coin operated telescope
and see magnified before you beginning and end
sharing the same horizon,
then come to peace with understanding
how time is always irrelevant,
KEN WOODALL has been writing poetry for over 30 years, beginning with creative writing in high school, and minored in English at UW-Milwaukee with emphasis on creative writing.
During college, he was introduced to open mic reading at a number of venues in Milwaukee. He was featured at a popular local venue for the first time in 2006, and has been featured annually since.
In 2007, he began an open “mic-less” night at a coffee house, and in 2009 shifted to another coffee house where he continues to host the venue.
-TWITTERIZATION NATION: 8-31-2017