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.thump thump, thump thump .
One heart alone, makes but a single beat
A sound so low and incomplete
A heart all alone, waiting to be heard
Knows not the beauty or songs of singing birds
One heart all alone, knows not love or tenderness
It feels nothing, but has emptiness
A heart alone, searches for its mate
It waits, trust fate, contemplates
Until by chance another beat it hears
That sound it has longed for all these years
Like the timbre of a bass drum
It hears an answer, another thrum
Two hearts are beating, strong and true
The sound grows louder, waiting is through
Two hearts are beating, within one another
Searching is over, they have found that lover
Two hearts are beating, they grow and grow
Together forever, never wanting to go
Two hearts are beating, as the sun goes down
A love true, a love strong, both are bound
And as the sound gently fades into night
Two hearts are beating, this they know is just right
thump thump, thump thump ...

— Author: Inpa

February 19, 2008

Graphic by MamaBear

Present, Tense!

Being in the present, is not as it would seem,
For many folks spend waking hours, as if they’re in a dream,
With an idiot behind you, who drives a “mean machine”,
When you are at a red light, as soon as it turns green.

You’re living in the past, thinks he, who seeks to get around,
An obstruction in his driving two more blocks across the town.
The present is so difficult, that’s why they call it tense,
I’d like to list some items you can use in your defense.

The past is where contentment lies, as much as you have got,
For those who think the Future will bring joy, well, it may not.
We cannot know the turning that the wheels of fate may hold,
Although we know the choice of dying young, or growing old.

The things you are, are written there, those things that you have done,
Unlike the possibilities which must await another sun.
In the Future’s where you bank your hopeful dreams that are to come,
Where they will be your guides out of the past that you are from.

The middle ground is narrow, and fleeting in its flight,
From promises at morning time up to regrets at night.
With Time compressing to this point it seems unfair somehow,
That you have only got Today to get so many things done Now.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . August 4, 2004
© 2004