Old Poem

I've been meaning to start writing poetry again. I used to write regularly in middle and high school but ever since college I've all but completely quit. Not out of wanting to, particularly, but out of simple lack of action. In other words, I just didn't do it. Well here's my first step towards trying. Incited by some friends, I'm going to publish one of my old poems here, completely unedited (though I was tempted to do so). Hopefully this'll be a step in the direction towards writing more. Perhaps I'll occasionally cherry-pick some of the haiku I write at work and put those up because those are as contemporary me as possible. So here we go, a poem called Time.

Time, the unstoppable giant
Has gotten in my way once again.
Every short breath, a tick
Every long step, a year
His eyes, so full of age
His arms, as heavy as gravity
His chest, heaving a rhythmic heart
A heart that beats a sunrise,
And pulsates change,
And bleeds with memory.

That giant is in my way again
And I try to go against him,
Knowing that a loss is a certainty.

So I unsheathe my weapon
A blade called haste
And I pull over me a cover
A shield called patience
And I run, swinging haste to and fro
Inciting at least a reaction,
If anything at all
From the oblivious giant.

Yet without knowing
Through the field of eternity
As time walks, ever so slowly,
Creeping like a sloth
I run through and into a field of thorns
One I had only heard called regret
So with patience,
I try to help feeling the sting of regret.

Something changes
I start mending my suit
And I use the thread: idleness
And with not a moment to spare,
Arms heavy, eyes old
Wings spread and open and ready
And Time takes flight.

© Emilio Gandara 2008 (is this really necessary?)

And so with that, I'll hopefully leave a floating note waiting to be played, constantly reminding myself that I want to play it.