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The Times Are Spaced By Glacial Drifts

April 3, 2015

A long, long time ago I was a budding poet in Southern California. I managed to turn my talents as a bard into a living writing songs in the 1970s. On the eve of my transition into song writing, I wrote a few last serious poems as sort of an epilogue to my past efforts. One of these was a poem entitled The Times Are Spaced By Glacial Drifts. Years later I decided to include this in a published anthology of my poetry titled Prescriptions from the Rhyme Doctor (Amazon.com) I am featuring this bit of poetry from the past in this week’s post as sort of an homage to all of us from the 1960s and 1970s who struggled to keep our craft alive. It was a hard task indeed.

The Times Are Spaced By Glacial Drifts
©1974 Allen E. Rizzi

There’s a surging in my gut
And a ripple in my heart
Every time I just lay a day and think:

The times are spaced by glacial drifts
And it all seems so far away
And worst of all, incomplete.

For years, I couldn’t drink enough;
For years, I couldn’t love enough;
For years, for years, for years!

When I think of lonesome nights
And driving in my car,
Looking for another piece to call my own,
It all seems so vivid, like a phosphorescent dream.
Then suddenly it bursts!

The times are spaced by glacial drifts
And it all seems so far away
And worst of all, incomplete.

I was the best, or so it seems,
At every joust or jest;
For I shot stick so fluidly
And was the undisputed king of waves.
When it came to wit, I was always first;
I had the confidence to make it work;
I possessed that heavy-chested feeling
That splits the ego into shades of restfulness.

The times are spaced by glacial drifts
And it all seems so far away
And worst of all, incomplete.

This poem and many others can be found in the anthology titled Prescriptions from the Rhyme Doctor.

Read author Allen E. Rizzi’s latest books available at Amazon.com

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From → Books, Poetry, Writing

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