Thursday, 7 August 2014

Extracts from an Autobiography of Time


It was 1964 when I first heard Pete Seeger sing Where Have All The Flowers Gone?  I was 17 years-old and moved to tears. I told my mother, adding that I felt such a fool.

‘Never regret tears,’ she said. ‘Only fools never cry. It’s tears that oil the wheels of Time, and without Time there would be no way of carrying our memories to a safe place where we can access them whenever we feel the need…’

'That's daft,' I said.

'No, dear,' she said, 'that's history...'

This poem is a villanelle:

EXTRACTS FROM AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF TIME

Where time, it passes us on,
so we pass on in time
like a flower, its season gone

No wintry world ever reborn
in love’s springtime
where time, it passes us on

Find peace on Earth forsworn,
(poetry forsaking rhyme)
like a flower, its season gone

Find all sacred songs written
to give God a name…
where time, it passes us on

On its battlefields dearly won,
glory buries its crime
like a flower, its season gone

Be it a molehill or mountain
may the human spirit climb
where time, it passes us on…
like a flower, its season gone

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008; 2014

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