There are many great thoughts in this poem submitted last week by Paul Robert Dinwiddie. This is his fifth accepted contribution in just a few weeks. - poetheart 04/23/02
Time, what a precious commodity;
And something of an oddity.
Always sought but never found;
Always written and never bound.
Tomorrow never comes, yesterday is past;
it goes too slow, it moves too fast.
Seasons change and children grow.
It trickles by. Where does it go?Time, what a precious commodity;
and something of an oddity.
Rivers turn and mountains crumble,
forests burn, volcanoes rumble.
Lilies wilt and roses bloom;
frogs do leap and crickets croon.
All these things do change all around us;
it seems that time is here to confound us.Time, what a precious commodity;
and something of an oddity.
The hustle and bustle of big city life;
often lead us to internal strife.
Jobs and cars, family and friends;
we hurry to and fro, knowing it will end.
The things that we miss are at most, I can guess;
are those that for which we partake of this quest.Time, what a precious commodity;
and something of an oddity.
In the nick of time we say with a smile;
what's a nick? Is it less than a mile?
We keep it and beep it, we measure and treasure it;
we stop it and clock it, we share it and wear it.
We claim to own it as we slip off to bed;
but I think it's time that owns us instead.Time, what a precious commodity;
and something of an oddity.
We write about it, we fight about it;
we think about it, we drink about it.
Look to the future, it always seems bright;
I say the present is here and it's right.
Learn from your past, we are taught in our schools;
some say the past is the realm of the fools.Time, what a precious commodity;
and something of an oddity.
Always we are measuring, and never are we treasuring;
sometimes pleasuring, but still, we are measuring.
We do not stop and bend our nose;
there is no time to smell the rose.
Instead we spray - that's good, I suppose,
perhaps, I say, I'll get me one of those.Time, what a precious commodity;
and something of an oddity.
We always watch clocks - even when taking walks;
Geese speak in flocks, we ignore them, a goose never talks.
A chipmunk will perk it's tiny little head,
some will toss it a crust from their bread;
Others will shy from it, filled with their dread;
the rest will walk by it and ignore it instead.Time, what a precious commodity;
and something of an oddity.
It's measures by ticks and tocks in clocks;
even in nature, it's measured by rocks.
From whence time began, we've grabbed all we can;
from hence time will go, no one can know.
From cradle to grave, the circle complete;
Time is the one thing even death can't defeat.
by Paul Robert Dinwiddie