Fitton's Time Machine


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21st Century Poetic License

Poems from the Heart

North of North


 Can someone tell me what’s north of north?

Not today as I venture forth

North of the blue Charles channel.

Somewhere north of Cambridge and points beyond.

Let me pierce the zenih to worlds unknown.

I’ve always wanted to go.

It’s the moment I leave the tunnel

To places I’ve never been before

It’s Pittsburgh lasered through the mountains.

Where light is not light after all.

When dreams are  most assuredly supplanted

By faceted layers of elevated phantasms.

-North of north.


Racing like a  NASCAR wannabe

To the finite shores of the reservoir

Tiptoeing above and around the surface tension.

Soaring past every instant I’ve known

-North of north


Before I’m through

My consciousness deceives me.

These worlds unknown

When day leaves night and night dribbles away.

I stand everywhere at once

-North of north.

 

One by One

 

One by one they have fallen

Across the Mother Earth

I hear the distant voices calling;

Falling before the human curse.

 

Once I cast them youthful gazes

And sought their loving faces.

Even those gods who stood so tall

Have fallen before us all.

 

One by one they have fallen

 Like leaves in cold autumn air.

With a frantic cry I gasped

As neither leaves nor gods I grasped

 Age has made us now aware

How summer’s branches suddenly go bare.

I hear the distant, beckoning sound

Of leaves reaching the frozen ground.

 

One by one they have fallen

Across the Mother Earth

Even bare cold branches have callen

To the silver sky unheard.

 

How can I seek to recapture

The river flowing through warmer pasture?

I can only mourn its course today

And those bright leaves seen just yesterday

Spread over sturdy trees- once giving

Their life sustaining force- so giving

                                                                 Shut down-

                                                                        Dead-

                                                                             Forgiven.

A Simple Prayer for the Common Man

 

 

Oh, Lord hear my prayer for the common man.

 

Calloused were once his vice grip hands.

 

He rode shotgun against the prevailing winds.

 

Stubbornness and recklessness were his sins.

 

- The common man.

 

 

  

He lived his life, sturdy and strong,

 

Sometimes right and sometimes wrong.

 

The common man thrust his fist at wealth.

 

Beholden to no one but to he, himself.

 God,  what sins won’t you forgive?

 

Do you scratch a tally sheet for the minutes we live?

 

Tis not for all of us to say.

 

How the common man spent his days.

  

Repentance and forgiveness never escape scalding embers.

 

When will the likes of him be soon remembered?

 

Never stared down by the likes of mortal men.

 

It was that stranger death that did him in.

 

They bought the box and nailed the lid until,

 

 

 

His powerful hands lay resolute and still.

 

He is the man who broke with the dawn.

 

Destined for toil from the day he was born.

 

-The common man.

 

 

 

Oh, Lord I say to you in earnest:

 

This is the mighty man who ran the mighty race.

 

He sweat, he bled, he worked at an ungodly pace.

 

A man who staggered but refused to fall.

 

The common man, he wasn’t so common after all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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