Timeline Poem: ‘Year’ (18 Weeks)

Day 1: Moss covered bricks tell stories of ancient
Day 2: Civilizations lost and forgotten;
Day 3: Of Kingdoms left in ruins; and of castles
Day 4: Laid low before the world. All that once was
Day 5: Has fallen like the footsteps echoing
Day 6: Down these abandoned corridors into
Day 7: The heart of discovery. Seldom are
Day 8: These hollow halls remembered, let alone
Day 9: Unearthed by unexpected travelers.
Day 10: The whispering forest and lingering
Day 11: Breeze are stirred by their approach. Like guardians
Day 12: They swing their gaze, with intention, toward those
Day 13: Penetrating the silence. With eyes wide
Day 14: And hearts aglow two eager explorers
Day 15: Edge toward the unknown. Their steps carry more
Day 16: Than picnic baskets and blankets, by their
Day 17: Steps dreams are woven into reality
Day 18: And imagination intersects the
Day 19: Present like a sunset fading into
Day 20: The horizon. The world stands before them
Day 21: Like a story, being told and remembered
Day 22: Concurrently as each breath is taken.
Day 23: Cautiously, both walk beneath the arching
Day 24: Gaze of the vigilant protectors, careful,
Day 25: Like a silent wind across a lake, to
Day 26: Disturb as little as possible. They
Day 27: Tread upon the earth as if it is glass
Day 28: With shimmering, unbroken, reflections
Day 29: Dancing, hand in hand, across the surface.
Day 30: Starring into the glade both breathe in, with
Day 31: A sense of profound awe, all the beauty
Day 32: Unveiled – like an entrusted secret at
Day 33: its first telling – in their midst. This is not
Day 34: The scene they had expected to enter;
Day 35: Nor the setting they had envisioned. The
Day 36: Essence of this newly discovered realm
Day 37: Dwells beyond their thoughts and senses; beyond
Day 38: All reality and reason, like the
Day 39: Recollection of a dream as wakeful
Day 40: Eyes give birth to the morning. Side by side,
Day 41: They stand: a boy named Jeremiah and
Day 42: A girl named Antonia – when they are
Day 43: Together she calls him Jer and he calls
Day 44: Her Nia. The Birds sing at their approach.
Day 45: They whistle beautiful tunes, that mankind
Day 46: Could never reproduce – in word or in
Day 47: Song, as vines cling to the ruins, holding
Day 48: Together the last tangible remnant
Day 49: Of legends and myths long since forgotten.
Day 50: With precision the sun tarries across
Day 51: The vibrant afternoon, like the hands of
Day 52: A pocket watch intending to predict
Day 53: The arrival of the next train at the
Day 54: Station. The day unfolds like the blanket
Day 55: Stretched across the abandoned window sill
Day 56: Where the wandering couple seat themselves
Day 57: To converse about the ruins, over
Day 58: A picnic lunch. “If you could imagine
Day 59: Anything right now, this very moment,
Day 60: What would it be?” says Jeremiah as
Day 61: He pulls items from the basket like a
Day 62: Magician pulling a rabbit from his hat.
Day 63: (He’d play the part well, but for his lack of
Day 64: Top hat and suit coat – a respectable
Day 65: Magician would never preform in blue
Day 66: jeans and flannel). The question hung in the
Day 67: Air, like a cloud shifting and changing with
Day 68: The wind, as Antonia intently
Day 69: Searched for the shapes they chose to resemble.
Day 70: Each shape seemed blurred at first, but with a slight
Day 71: Adjustment the essence of their contours
Day 72: Came rushing into focus. As she probes
Day 73: The invisible she wears her thoughts like
Day 74: A veil that covering her contemplative
Day 75: Expression. She is always quite careful
Day 76: About the words she lets slip from her mouth.
Day 77: Each and every syllable of each and
Day 78: Every word holds a distinct weight to her.
Day 79: To say too little would keep nothing fixed
Day 80: To reality, but to say too much
Day 81: Would leave no room for imagination.
Day 82: So she speaks only when she is sure of
Day 83: The depth and meaning of the words spoken.
Day 84: As she searches for the proper arrangement
Day 85: Of words her thoughts mingle with the rubble
Day 86: Of a palace that captivates her
Day 87: Mind completely. She stares into its core
Day 88: As if it is a mystical portal
Day 89: Reaching into the recesses of a
Day 90: Reality that borders the edge of
Day 91: Fantasy and a fantasy that clings
Day 92: To the fringes of reality.
Day 93: “As I gaze into these ruins,” says Nia
Day 94: “The whole world seems to be growing within
Day 95: My mind like a kingdom in reverse. Silent
Day 96: Stones slowly climb back into place; ancient
Day 97: Kings discreetly rise from their graves; hollow
Day 98: Halls fill, note by note, with melodious
Day 99: Echoes; and secretly, from the corners
Day 100: Of solitude honor and virtue are
Day 101: Grafted into a dominion that finds
Day 102: Its rulership before its demise.”  She
Day 103: Pauses for a moment, replays her words,
Day 104: And carefully examines the weight of
Day 105: Each repeated phrase. Then she gently nods
Day 106: As if to confirm a proper use and
Day 107: Positioning of letters. Silence fills that
Day 108: Which was pervaded with words and empties
Day 109: Each passage it had come to satisfy. In
Day 110: These seconds passing before them Jer looks
Day 111: Deep into her eyes to watch the kingdom
Day 112: Breathing backward toward the beginning.
Day 113: “I had always imagined what it would
Day 114: Be like for the world to grow against its
Day 115: Nature,” says Jer. “I’ve imagined forests
Day 116: Sprouting through recomposing soil as
Day 117: What is becomes what was. I’ve envisioned
Day 118: The rising of the sunset and the falling
Day 119: Of the sunrise as both edge along the
Day 120: Skyline, lapsed in time, like a clock spinning
Day 121: Counter clock-wise, in search of the
Day 122: Conception of words. I’ve seen vines descend;
Day 123: Ripples circle inward; moss retreat from
Day 124: The northern face; and stars roll back toward the
Day 125: East.” Here Jer pauses, to gather every
Day 126: Possible thought and piece them together
Day 127: Like a puzzle. “Wouldn’t it be grand if

© Jeremiah Dowling 2012


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About Jeremiah Dowling

I write poetry and take crazy pictures in an Orange Chair all over the United States while reading amazing books.

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