Days go by
Churning churning
And I can’t stop them
Turning turning.
It’s like riding rapids
Down a precipitous gorge
And I just can’t stop
Going with the flow.
They are sewn together
These ceaseless days -
Fluttering like Tibetan flags
Dancing in the Himalayan wind
Or so it seems to me
As I withstand
Their endless flapping
Signalling messages
I struggle to decipher.
Yearning, yearning
For still waters
In which to pause a while
Discerning
Semaphoric meanings in
The passage
Of days.
Do I sense a note of despair in there? A wish that things could be more peaceful? An excellent poem.
ReplyDeleteI think that the majority of humans harbour a feeling of despair as we tumble on, days passing by - unable to hang on.
DeleteA good and philosophical poem YP. " Days" by Kirst Mcoll comes to mind.
ReplyDeleteThanks for bothering to read it Dave. I am not familiar with that song. I will seek it out.
DeleteWell, that cheered me up no end. However, I will say it nicely written and expressed.
ReplyDeleteThe first lines just emerged from me the other night so I ran with them.
DeleteI don't think there are any messages on the flags. I think we write our own.
ReplyDeletei like this poem, the way it is a little bit like prose and a little bit classically poetic.
They are prayer flags. Thank you for reading and reflecting upon the poem Kylie.
DeleteAh the Alpine Mountains of Yorkshire in the photo?
ReplyDeleteNo. That is The Himalayas David.
DeleteA good poem - but this sounds like a cry of despair YP. I feel a sense of things beyond your control.
ReplyDeleteThe poem is not about me.
DeleteA good poem, YP, with an excellent photo to go with it.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading it Mary.
DeleteIt's a fast paced world out there and old people can't slow it down.
ReplyDeleteI think you grasp what I was getting at here Red. Thank you.
DeleteA lovely poem and a lovely photo.
ReplyDeleteThanks Kelly.
DeleteTime does seem rather relentless sometimes, a cascade, and it only gets more so as we get older!
ReplyDeleteIt seems to accelerate. I am in a racing car now.
DeleteI like the short lines, they convey the message. You can't stop Old Father Time but you can stop and sit for awhile.
ReplyDeleteYes. The contemplation may slow the hurtling.
DeleteI like it!
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading it Bruce.
DeleteLovely poem, a reminder to take time to stop and smell the roses.
ReplyDeleteI like your interpretation.
DeleteWhat's with the (not in the picture) semaphore? Does the abominable snowman wave the flags?
ReplyDeletePoem brought to mind what I thought of as your previous observation (I have been unable to trace it just now) that you are on the bus until you aren't. Maybe I'm misattributing it to you.
PS: not presently drunk.
Interesting response.
Delete