Watch Me

Both now…and then, I set the pace
I’m time itself. I am the truth
My arms reach wide, there’s no escape
I give you age, but rob thy youth

Each moment spent, I waste on those
Who’d squander minutes, rape its hour
I raise the sun, I draw its warmth
I trace its path, then track its power

Just watch me now, I come and go
Alarms ring loud whenever I’m near
My heart runs wild, yet beats for none
Your soul on fire, I sense its fear

How cruel is fate? In time, we’ll know

poem by James Papastamos
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The Nursing Home

The Nursing Home
by James Alexandros Papastamos
I
Imprisoned by such hands of time
That rape, incest, and so infect
The body, mind, perhaps the soul
Of those whose crime was age…at best
II
Each wrinkle drew to map their world
When they were young, its mountains rose
But seas would drown in shallow pools
Of joy, reflection, guilt, remorse

III
Though age, itself, is not so bad
The windows come to those who’ve seen
The best of all and worse to come
May those who’ve aged live on…in dreams

IV

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poem by James Papastamos
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Where the Winds Hath Blown

A rose, a single rose, slowly but
surely bled to death, by thorns,
merciless in their cruelty,
merry with passion, feasting on my garden’s
inability to brave its mighty current

Winds whistled while they wined...and
dined, as blades of grass bowed in recognition and
much respect

A rose, perhaps another, now
dead, once bled with such profanity, at having
lost its crimson glow. But the
wind, however, was colorless, no less, and
careless, as the guilty are oft as
blameless

The wind whistles, if not
weeps...and hauntingly so, while it
waits for its next intended

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poem by James Papastamos
Added by Poetry Lover
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