Sunday, 7 April 2013

Poem: Shadow of our lives

the stones we gathered have disappeared
crystal air-bubbles invading through the hourglass
escaping through the oceans with no memories
          of our precious minutes
in the room where clocks keep on ticking
          I see it clearly now –
our lives are plays displayed on our dashboards
if I write a story, would you play a role for me?
- touch me deeper than myself, for I am not a fragile bird
or would that be totally inappropriate?
           among twenty-seven versions of us,
we write down the one designed by time and space
I searched for a definition of myself in your words
as if your eyes have a better understanding of myself
now we don't seem to care if the other lives of dies
we painted on the walls of our parents house
writing down stories of the faces we found on the ceiling
          - not giving much care to the one we were living
we carelessly ran away from things – not knowing they always ran after us
we knew that when we grow tall our feet will fit in the grown-ups' shoes
and we'll take longer and more important steps
little did we know our faces will change their colour
and we'll abandon the games we used to play
but the manner with which we'll do things, will stay the same
we had today, but today turned into yesterday
and yesterday clings in the back of our minds
like a faded memory and now we're questioning its existence
for everything has an expiration date
        we were never kids first,
always trying to put ourselves in the roles only adults were allowed to play
from primary school, to a college, to a job, to a house, to a home...
years later we forget how to keep wonder
where is the force that glued our hearts together?
words of freedom hang on the wire through wind and snow
birds whispering their songs at sundown
the winter of our hearts has passed
many people have left the train
many love stories never reached a beginning
         or have lost their spark
many new lives have begun while others have lost their writer
remaining ones searching for a sound mind and a place to hide
as the time capsule swallows us into its depths
         are we out of our minds?
future us dropping past into the sea
the dead town stealing away tomorrows
slaves refusing revolution for comfort and injustice
who's driving this train anyway?
there's a promise of a treasure on a map
we're running like mad men to the hills
so we can fight for the little we managed to hide as our own
in a seemingly small playground we are building future
not out of rocks and stones, but with hearts and bones
and we wonder what kind of shadow our lives will cast behind


  1. We were never kids first...Now this is a piece that tells me you have really had a good think about the subject before writing. I like what you say here

    1. it was a long time in the making... and the feelings when I wrote this are still vivid in my heart.

  2. Very well thought out poem.....I was struck by many parts of it, but this above all:

    " we carelessly ran away from things – not knowing they always ran after us " -- so very true.
    " many new lives have begun, but others have lost their writer" -- that is a wonderfully penned phrase.

    Actually as I read your poem I find many small parts that perhaps deserve their own poem, expanding on the thought, You could 'mine' this poem for thoughts to write about for many poems to come. Very thoughtful writing here.

    1. thank you for the idea, I didn't actually thought of developing something new out of it.. since I don't want to repeat myself too often..but maybe. i do see this poem as having at least three parts. thank you mary! :)

  3. he dead town stealing away tomorrows
    slaves refusing revolution for comfort and injustice
    who's driving this train anyway?

    dang...those lines...there is a truth that resonates throughout this...sad we have to grow up so fast and so many kids are put in a place they have to take the roles adults should keep....def so much here...that is what caught me this read...

  4. I loved this. Yes, as children we yearn to be make our own decisions, craft our own lives...and when we arrive there...well, it's not all its cracked up to be.

    This was a beautiful and thoughtful poem. It will linger with me...

    1. indeed..and thank you.. it's kind of strange what poetry can do.. :)

  5. a thoughtful and lovely poem, so much to ponder. i do agree with Mary. There are many parts in the poem that can stand alone or expanded into another poem, such is the beauty and intricacy of the work.
    and a question, if you don't mind. why are there " twenty-seven versions of us". ? :)

    1. thank you.. yes, I actually put two poems together, cause I thought they make more sense together and they entwined.
      huh... twenty-seven seemed like an appropriate number :) but there seem so many, I may be wrong ;)

  6. We build our future with hearts and bones---beautiful piece of writing---and like Talon, I think this one will linger

    1. thank you audrey :) (and if I'd had to choose, that would be my favourite line in the poem).

  7. I love those closing line, this is a subject I have reflected on often. I can definitely see that as an adult I have given up on certain dreams and that I seek comfort more than adventure. It saddens me how we grow apart from family and friends as well.

    1. true.. and sometimes it saddens me even more, when I don't know why it happened so.. and what a waste of our lives, if we can't be with our friends and really be with each other, not just co-exist.

  8. What a fabulous rich read this is! So many great lines......"among twenty seven versions of us"...."we forget how to keep wonder".....and "the winter of our hearts has passed" especially resonate. Great write! Loved it!

  9. your writing is special. Truly.

  10. This is an excellent piece touching so many areas of thought and living, thanks for sharing.

  11. Beautifully constructed poem. Meanings you offer are purely brilliant. A wide spectrum of feelings have been touched and an even wider view of the world has been pointed out. I enjoyed reading it. Thanks for sharing. :)

  12. Wonderful reading. In places it is crisp and clear.