another year is coming to an end
long forgotten songs venture forth
from depths of stagnant memories

if time could be kept in a bottle
must needs ask where was my heart
please release me and let me go

some day you’ll call my name
still nothing more than a game
embers beneath a fading flame

another holiday comes upon us
will all my children finally call
how many will visit this year

our generation was lost in space
no time left to start over again
glass ceiling has finally flown away

even though I reach out for more
being born under a wandering star
hurts more than spoken words tell

should one become more beautiful
what happens when we meet again
causing that last teardrop to fall

River of Time

A soft rustle from leaves
making their way earthward
on their yearly pilgrimage
brings forth idle thoughts
of summer’s oppressive heat
when I once stood staring
at some scattered raindrops

not seeing my own coming storm
I remove my hat and wipe sweat
from my brow then return
to an ever growing pile of wood
meant to feed a hungry winter’s fire
Lord, please guide me gently down
this slow flowing river of time

HEAVEN: a villanelle

often we hear of this place called Heaven
much time we spend dreaming to be there
yet, when all is said and done we walk away

what should we expect on that final day?
would one want to give up this home so fair?
how sad a plight for one to miss Heaven

man struggles to make his own heaven
refusing to admit his ways will not spare
when deeds we have done turn us away

as sadness falls much too heavy to weigh
none is there with which we could share
this bitter taste of using a Pharisee’s leaven

false security that provides no safe haven
takes away all from those who would care
enough not to turn and walk away

a promise is given to all who wish to stay
in a beautiful Book written for all where
we read of this wonderful place called Heaven
missed by all who turn and walk away

A Dusting of Time

A person can get into trouble
waiting, waiting and waiting longer
time will creep into a sluggard life
that stands far back beyond fading years

words held beneath a dusting of time
unread through those calendar pages
turning, turning and turning longer
crying for release, vile dust of time

…..Jerry Marks


The past is not so far back as it might seem
Time cannot be bound in long forgotten ages
Yet it was yesterday we met in our dream

True, the years go by in a steady stream
While life stumbles along in awkward stages
The past is not so far back as it might seem

Years flow past and vanish much like steam
From a kettle while the boiling water rages
But it was yesterday we met in our dream

These written words are just an empty scream
Of frustration over all those wasted voyages
The past is not so far back as it might seem

We travelled together until the years should deem
It necessary to free us from cold tarnished cages
Yes, it was yesterday we met in our dream

We, as moths are drawn to that distant flame
Until it is time to ride our curtained carriages
The past is not so far back as it might seem
And it was yesterday we met in our dream

~~~~~~Jerry Marks