“Oh, when will autumn moon…

“Oh when will autumn moon and spring flowers end?
How many past events I’ve known.
The east wind buffeted my room again last night,
I cannot bear to remember the bright moon of the old country.
The marble steps and carved balustrades must still be there,
The people’s rosy cheeks are all that’s changed.
How much sorrow can one man have to bear?
As much as a river of spring water flowing east.


how long fall moon and spring bloom shall last?
how many happenings of life have passed?
a northwest wind rattled my window last night
i’ve forgotten how summer moon glows full-bright
old stairway and front porch of home still there
how many memories must bereaved woman bear?
faded are rosy cheeks of my childhood
as river of time flows through tears’ wildwood



Laura Bloomsbury invites us to imitate Chinese-style poetry at dVerse poetics. First stanza is a translation from Chinese, second is my interpretation with added rhyme.

reality check

Time for us to admit that life is not happily ever after.

time winds down

Challenge at CDHK to “distill” the following poem by Tagore:

Time is endless in thy hands, my lord [LORD].
There is none to count thy minutes.

Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers.
Thou knowest how to wait.

Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.

We have no time to lose,
and having no time we must scramble for a chance.
We are too poor to be late.

And thus it is that time goes by
while I give it to every querulous man who claims it,
and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last.

At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut;
but I find that yet there is time.

© Rabindranath Tagore, Endless Time

(see my “distillation” below in tanka form)

endless time

“Endless Time”

trace curved flow of hours

marked by celestial bodies

— our minutes’ limits —

seek face of eternal LORD

above / beyond track of time


© lynn__




above & beyond

Lillian at dVerse Poets invites us to “look up” and marvel at pictures from Hubble Space Telescope…

Artist's concept of exoplanet orbiting Fomalhaut

Credit: ESA, NASA and L. Calçada (ESO); ESA/Hubble


You, who spins
planets in place
calls stars by name
speaks light into
hot existence

You, whose wisdom
births bright galaxies
weighs gravity’s laws
measures our time
expands space

You alone are
worthy of worship

we, who spin
on watery planet
stare at your stars
depend on light
of dying sun

we, whose
reflects your image
yet live limited by
gravity, time, space

we bow in awe at
Your cosmic beauty!



i still do…do you?


Screen Shot 2017-06-04 at 9.49.51 PM


You can play magnetic poetry online here


it’s later than we think


twice every year

daylight savings time

messes with my inner clock

an insomniac’s seasonal nightmare

hard to say which is harder

on mind and body:

to spring ahead or fall back

why do we try to

interfere when time

doesn’t wish to be saved?


Time for quadrille #28 at dVerse Poets Pub this week!

inexorable time

In response to Carpe Diem Haiku Kai “Road to Santiago” word:  time


where will journey lead?

wisdom contemplates life’s end

we return to dust


photo by lynn – Floyd Cemetery, Sioux City

time is a friend


time ripens good seed

farmer waits ever patient

harvest fruit will come

time passages

Linking to Carpe Diem’s time glass challengedancing leaves

leaves let go of fear

fall free, float on air, swirl down

celebrate changes.


letting go self-consciousness,

we can twirl life’s dance with joy!

what time is it?


man knows not his,

yet, by tracking time,

we try to master it.


shadows on sundials,

changing of calendars,

watching the clocks.


time is cosmic order:

spheres circling suns

moons orbiting planets.


from cradle to grave,

out of crib into coffin,

time carries us away.


memories of childhood,

youth’s fond dreams, our

strength and beauty fade.


we cannot stop time

but perhaps we can

slow it by sabbath;


pause to pray, praise

give thanks for grace,

we rest, he restores!



Inspired by Jan.11, 2015  sermon by Pastor John Lee on Ecclesiastes 3:1-15

tides of time



of water,



of time

collected into

myriad foaming


of salty brine

spraying wildly

off crests

of rolling


incessant waves,

pounding out


upon the shore.


an ocean



sands of


in wrinkling

imprint on

beaches strand,

leaving us

with shiny


bits & pieces,

of shells;





we pick up

the pretty



these over

in our hands

to take home

for display

in pint jars

upon shelves,

but best to

leave slimy

clumps of


to dry to


with the


of time.




Response to Claudia’s  metaphor challenge and Mary’s earlier poetics on “time”.


this present moment

There will always be enough time to do exactly what you should do.

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