caryopsis, a poem

caryopsis
Time pulls me
from my shell
and spreads me out
to dry
by the numbers.

4 Comments Filed Under: poem

Comments

  1. Old 333 says:
    May 22, 2011 at 10:00 pm

    Owch! I like to stay in my mortal cowrie, curled up around finality.

    Reply
  2. Barb says:
    May 23, 2011 at 1:08 pm

    Husk and seed as one – time does tend to dry us out, doesn’t it? Sometimes I look in the mirror and am surprised by my age. (Other times, I feel it…) Your poem is the starting point for my own thoughts.

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  3. Wine and Words says:
    May 23, 2011 at 11:23 pm

    I’m thinking of the work day…how, in my position, I must be “on”, smiling, meeting the public, working a room. It is not the natural me. I would be still in my pajamas, in the shell of my home, with coffee, a book, a camera. But the clock does lay me out in numeral sequence where I wither for a time while blooming in public. It sucks me dry from the inside out until I am home again happily shelled.

    Reply
  4. matt says:
    May 31, 2011 at 9:43 pm

    Peter, yes … if only time would let us! ;)

    Barb, age … I still feel a boy, I look in the mirror and wonder about the older fellow looking back at me.

    Annie, yeah, I think that’s why I came to Japan, I couldn’t handle the routine … but then I found it’s hard to run from! ;)

    Thank you for the comments! :)

    Reply

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