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June 15, 2017


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It's Time Snipers!

The Time Snipers

Where does the time go?
Each minute slips past me
On tip toe, like mice past a sleeping cat
I could catch one if I tried,
And put it to work on my treadmill
But other beings are out to catch them too

On the battlements of the library
High up in the dusty air
Snipers on the lookout
for a wandering minute
Innocently slipping past
Looking for somewhere to go

The snipers, with time in their cross-wires
Ready to fire their ammunition
Of melting softness.
A chocolate here, a day dream there
Killing time swiftly
With a velvet garrotte.

Or if it avoids them
There are the marauders who lurk
Low down in the floor boards
Waiting ready to bundle it into their dark coats
From whose depths,
Not one second can escape.

The time thieves wear afghan coats.
Soft and weathered with age,
Warm , inviting as sleep.
Once inside, the time is muffled
And silently suffocated
Its body as transient as dust

So how can I win
Against these cunning rivals?
Each second I snatch is a victory,
A moment saved from the snipers
And the time-thieves
Who lurk, ever watchful,
Waiting to pounce.

A poem I wrote that found it's way somehow onto someone's geocities page of favourite poems.

I enjoyed this theory very much and will be looking for more evidence of this creature's existence.

I have met the octopus, oh yes.

His nefarious cousin haunts places like the Reading Terminal Market in Philadelphia, where many an unwary grad student/shopper in search of a few basic veggies has emerged days later with bags full of fish, herbs, sides of beef, exotic cheeses...and delusions of cookery.

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