[Richten Me13]

REASON,,,RHYME,,,TIME

What do you do when the world seems to be closing in on you. What do you do when your days no longer shine.
You find your world is left behind, and there's nothing you can do. you'll never find it again my friend, Those days
that went by you. You know you can't bring the days back to where they used to be, The days of youth are left behind, in the
hollows of your mind. That's where you'll find those haunting things that we call memories.
Each day comes and goes in it's own time, and you'll always be one step behind. And whataya gonna
do, when you see it's caught up to you. There's no reason or rhyme, in the echoes of your mind.
How long did it take before you looked back and realized it had all slipped away,
The day,,The time ,,The youth,, All of yesterday.
Where does it go when it all passes thru and lets you starring back at you. There's no place,, no region,,no little place in time,
where we can go to get back the days that used to be yours' and mine. We have no choice in
what we do, but to add each day of this life, on to me and you. They gather on as years, and change each part of you,
be it good, or be it bad, there's nothing you can do. So we wait until they've gathered, One by one, Then finally you'll have enough
and your life will be done. No days, No weeks, Nothing more to pass by, Your days have gathered
you've reached that time, when days are no longer,, any reason or rhyme.

CLS > Feb. 2012

[guitarczar]

If I may make a suggestion, your poem would be easier to read if you took some of the longer lines and put them more into a stanza format. As it is, you do use the stanza format, but because you have sometimes two sentences in the same line, it looks more like prose.

I like the idea of a sort of chaos of the past, no reason or rhyme to it, only memories that haunt us. And then at the end, are reason and rhyme--which presumably wear us down--suppose to dissolve when something better arrives?

I like that the content is philosophical. There are some great poems written on time ("Burnt Norton" by T.S. Eliot comes to mind).