Time is not a river.
It’s a feral thing,
half-mutt, half-mystic,
living under your porch.
It chews through calendars
with milk teeth,
leaves the bones of old plans
scattered by the door.
You cannot tame it.
It won’t come when you call.
It sleeps in the sun some days,
and on others
it runs its teeth along your spine
to remind you you’re edible.
We wear clocks like collars,
pretending we’re the owners.
But make no mistake,
we are walked.
And in rare moments,
if you’re still enough,
you’ll hear it panting behind you,
warm breath on your neck,
and you’ll realize:
Every story you tell yourself
is just a leash you fashioned
out of words.
And it frays.
Don’t waste the afternoons
feeding ghosts.
Time doesn’t mourn.
It only moves.
Be wild when you can.
Lie in the tall grass
with the creature.
Feel its pulse.
Let it gnaw what it must.
This poem has a brilliant central metaphor of time as a feral creature that completely reframes our relationship with temporality. Lines like "We wear clocks like collars, pretending we're the owners. But make no mistake, we are walked" are genuinely stunning reversals. The imagery is visceral and the philosophical depth is impressive.
However, some of the language feels overwrought and tries too hard to be poetic. "Half-mutt, half-mystic" is a bit forced, and "runs its teeth along your spine to remind you you're edible" veers into melodrama. The metaphor, whilst strong, occasionally becomes inconsistent - the creature shifts between dog, wild animal, and something more abstract in ways that don't always serve the poem.
The ending also feels slightly preachy. "Don't waste the afternoons feeding ghosts" reads more like self-help advice than poetry, and "leave no map for who you were" is a beautiful image but feels disconnected from the sustained dog metaphor. The poem would benefit from trusting its central conceit more and resisting the urge to explain or moralise. But the core concept here is genuinely original and when it works, it's absolutely electrifying.
Posted 6 Months Ago
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
6 Months Ago
Thank you so much! I appreciate the feedback a lot and I sure will keep it in mind for my next poems.. read moreThank you so much! I appreciate the feedback a lot and I sure will keep it in mind for my next poems! It helps a lot, so thank you again :))
This poem has a brilliant central metaphor of time as a feral creature that completely reframes our relationship with temporality. Lines like "We wear clocks like collars, pretending we're the owners. But make no mistake, we are walked" are genuinely stunning reversals. The imagery is visceral and the philosophical depth is impressive.
However, some of the language feels overwrought and tries too hard to be poetic. "Half-mutt, half-mystic" is a bit forced, and "runs its teeth along your spine to remind you you're edible" veers into melodrama. The metaphor, whilst strong, occasionally becomes inconsistent - the creature shifts between dog, wild animal, and something more abstract in ways that don't always serve the poem.
The ending also feels slightly preachy. "Don't waste the afternoons feeding ghosts" reads more like self-help advice than poetry, and "leave no map for who you were" is a beautiful image but feels disconnected from the sustained dog metaphor. The poem would benefit from trusting its central conceit more and resisting the urge to explain or moralise. But the core concept here is genuinely original and when it works, it's absolutely electrifying.
Posted 6 Months Ago
1 of 1 people found this review constructive.
6 Months Ago
Thank you so much! I appreciate the feedback a lot and I sure will keep it in mind for my next poems.. read moreThank you so much! I appreciate the feedback a lot and I sure will keep it in mind for my next poems! It helps a lot, so thank you again :))
I’m drawn to poetry because it captures what ordinary language often can’t. For me, it’s a way to sit with emotions, untangle thoughts, and turn fleeting moments into something lasti.. more..