Poem: Time, In a Sense

I had a long break due to some writing, work, and chaos. A little bit of everything. A poem to register my presence that reflects my current mindset.

Poem: Eternal Present

Is time an illusion?
I want time to stop.
The indefatigable clock shall rest.
Its hands should stop and
the tik-tok sound shall cease.
The reality of stillness and silence.
The woods shall become the trees
And no winds, I pray, shall blow.

The tingling in my neck anticipating
The proverbial Damocles sword behind.
That I don’t want to turn back and see.
The infinite potholes and pitfalls ahead.
That I certainly don’t look forward to.
In the depths of my gut, something stirs.
My breath is haggard, my senses alert.
Like a prey, anticipating a predator.

Tomorrow — the future — is my predator.
For that, I have become the prey today.
I have seen these types of tomorrows,
Almost every day, in the past.
That is why I feel safe today, for now.
In the shades of the present.
For now, the trees are still and silent.
And no winds, I pray, shall blow.

I want to stay in this moment.
Now I believe time is real.
The truth and the only truth.
I surrender to this truth, now — so
For my sake, I want time to stop.
The indefatigable clock shall rest.
Its hands should stop and
The tik-tok sound shall cease.
The truth of stillness and silence.

In this moment of reality and truth —
Dear Time — We shall both abandon this race.
A race where there is only my finishing line.
And I know, even if trees want to be silent
Nobody can stop the winds from blowing.
If I could only stop the winds of time -
The now shall become my eternity.
That would be my eternal present.

~Ashok Subramanian © 2025

Priya, my friend, where have you been all these days? You always seem to appear at my lows, almost like it’s on cue. I’m surprised you refer to me as your inspiration.

Poem: Seedling 🌱

Years ago, when I was a younger
version of the poet I am today,
the winds blew;
the trees became woods,
and you found me
I was just a seedling then,
un-nurtured by the words
I so desperately needed to bloom
Time did not stand still that day
I felt you in the breeze,
then again in the clouds,
and finally in the cool raindrops
of words that overflowed
in a downpour of encouragement,
that cemented not only our friendship,
but also the title of poet …

~ ©️ Priya Patel 2/24/25 🕉
for Ashok Subramanian

Again, the tango starts. This time, too good, I think. Time and love unite in poetry. Here you go, Priya Patel.

Poem: Slave of Time

Inside the deep dark cavern
Above, below, and on my sides
Buried, perhaps, forever
There is no time here -
The days and nights don’t exist
Did even time abandon me?
Ah, now that feeling of immortality
Divorced of time and its meanings
Such is the power of darkness and silence
That I am part of some permanence

Then… I hear the whispers of your words
Beautiful, naive… soft … and warm
Just warm enough to melt my heart
The closed cavern just cracked open enough
To let in the glint of your sunshine
Maybe, that is how seedlings grow
A few whispers from the hearts

And time, my friend becomes alive again
The days and nights appear too
The warm summer and the frigid winter
The spritely spring and the autumn colors
Just with a few verses of love
You made me, my friend,
A slave to time again.

~Ashok Subramanian © 2025

“Words are timeless. You should utter them or write them with a knowledge of their timelessness.”
— Kahlil Gibran