Father Time’s Fall

Father Time sat on a wall,

Arms moving swiftly, steadily,

Around and around.

Tick tock, tick tock,

Laboring robotically without end.


But what if one day Father Time were to fall,

Landing in pieces on the floor,

Keeping time no more?

Big Ben probably the only one broken up,

Over Father Time’s untimely death.


Without time to divide night from day,

Past from future,

Youth from age,

There’d be more time, not less…

To savor the infinite richness of the Present.


What if time were a concept,

We didn’t have to buy into?

Would Father time still rule our lives?

Just a thought to ponder,

If you can find the time!


-Gilda Patricia

The Lone Poet

Scaling the endless,

Breadth of the imagination,

And braving the solitary,

Depth of the human spirit,

With surprising grace and ease.


Capturing life’s elusive,

Inner rhythm,

Single heartedly;


The Lone Poet.


Traversing the inner landscape,

Of the human heart.

Stepping gingerly,

Through pathways and corridors,

Overgrown with richness,

And brimming with life;


Such a beautiful sight!


The Lone Poet,

Whose lines and verse,

Keep pace with humanity’s,

Brightest days,

And darkest nights,


Never really walks alone.


-Gilda Patricia