Prisoners of Time

Posted on January 4, 2019 by

37 Comments

We are all virtual prisoners of time
guarded by ticking hands of the clock
trapped in flashbacks gnawing at our minds
that feed our fears as we take useless stock


A vapid predator in the night they stalk
when we are most vulnerable and weak
under cloak of darkness with stealth they walk
in the mid-watch hours when all seems bleak


Into our quagmire of self-doubt they creep
prodding at the tenderest pink scars
in a whining voice they ardently speak
preying on our imagined horrors


Once we’ve spent endless nights fighting our demons
They intrude on our days, and manifest in our feelings.

©2021 Linda Lee Lyberg

dVerse: https://dversepoets.com/2019/01/03/poetry-forms-the-sonnet/

Category: PoetryTags: , ,

37 Comments on “Prisoners of Time”

  2. It is terrible. Ai believe foreign women have experienced what aI believe Norwegian women have experienced, and the set back is not only devastating, it is horrible by Satan’s pursuit. Ai love your poem, by which you point at the essential thing: There is time (refer Salomon), and there is stupidity. Ai wish for you, as aI wish for every nation, the re-capturing of man. Be it a cowboy, be it a sailor, be it a sheriff, be it a lawyer, though, be it a man. Ai love America, and things will pass.

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      • One of the things I notice for many novices (and I’m still one) is that we struggle against the rhymes instead of letting the word flow with the rhymes … when writing sonnets I sometimes let the subject change a bit to make it smoother around the rhymes.

        You can also change the perfect rhymes to slanted ones if you want to…

        The meter can be hard… you have to feel it by forming the words around the rhythm…

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  5. I very much enjoy the vivid and cloying atmosphere you’ve created. Stalking, feeding fears. Love the “prodding at the tenderest pink scars”.

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  8. This is beautiful. Above the waterline or below, still inside the same bubble – one just comes with a greater illusion of control.

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  11. I really like what you’ve written here… as others have as well. A suggestion that will be painful and bloody. (This is how we all grow as poets… murdering our babies.) My suggestion: create a resolution to the dilemma for the final couplet. Don’t destroy this version… but create a second version with resolution and post it here as well.

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