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Time Is A River
Time is a river that flows endlessly, with no beginning and no end. It breathes and grows minute by minute, unstoppable, a small trickle that expands into a raging flood time and again and there's no halting it.
It marches on in a slow, steady rhythm, ticks away like a bomb ready to detonate and cannot be disarmed, dismantled, or swayed from it's course.
Life is a set of dominoes laid out in an intricate pattern, the first indrawn breath setting in motion a series of events that unfold and it's unstoppable as well. One action leads to another, and another.
And another, and before you know it, you're grasping, wishing for things that can never be, wanting the impossible, wishing you'd done a million things a million different ways and there's that one small word.
As her tear-stained face raises, she thinks it's the word she hates the most in this world or any other.
Character poems I wrote for the Poetry Corner at Bronze-Beta
Petals as soft as silk against his skin Perfume so heady it smells of sin Prickle of pain as thorns pierce flesh He sees roses and hopes Darla is at rest
The yellow center reminds him of the sun Watching from the shadows as they had fun Longing for things that would never be Wishing back then he'd been able to see How bad things would turn out, who would be lost Because the loss really wasn't worth what it cost His heart might have gained a peaceful new beat But the price lies heavy, like the daisey crushed at his feet
Tiny insignificant tufts of power Hardly big enough to call a flower They don't even have a scent Yet seem to be very important Placed within every bouquet Against even a single rose they play Amazing and sweet in their simple charm For some reason they remind him of Dawn
Perfume that's airy and light Color that's not too bright That about sums up her head Even after she was dead
He still admires her beautiful hair Smiles when she calls him blondie bear Fresh lilacs are on her desk every day She wonders who sent them her way
He'll never tell her they come from him She wouldn't get why he's sending them Saying you're sorry is kind of hard to do Since it's something that's just not you
Roses dead and violets so blue Hers was the only love pure and true Her heart was never lead astray Even after she moved away Magic and charms weren't enough to save A beautiful heart from an early grave
He drove in Los Angeles on a fancy bike In a pair of leather pants that were very tight He wanted to appear rough, tough and manly Yet every time he moved, it was very painfully He was more grateful than words could say When Angel finally invited him to stay In the years that followed, he changed the most And did what he had to, no matter who it hurt worst When the bottom line is, you do what you can Wesley learned and grew, became quite the man He might have arrived in town snazzed out and fancy But the way he went out proved his arse was not pansy
Melodious sounds falling from that perfect mouth Angel wonders why he tries to hide he's from the South The smell of honeysuckle clings to Lindsey like a second skin The aroma surrounding the boy makes him want to revel in sin Rich, deep and sultry, quite like the heady tone of his voice The vampire hopes tomorrow the lawyer makes the right choice
Cute colorful flowers that make her thoughts breed And she recalls him dressed in a suit of tweed He smiled really pretty, and made some funny jokes And he never once reached for his pack of smokes She often thinks it would have been nice and handy If the spell hadn't worn off and he'd remained Randy
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