I like the metered verse and rhyme pattern. So unusual to find anymore. I took the liberty to edit and made changes to your poem. My purpose was to make it flow better and have more matching verse and keep it in the same tense. You bounced from first person to third person.
Joe
Time is money. Be wise and spend it well,
Will you be rich, powerful? Only time will tell.
Money is power, earned by work and sweat,
Waste time,lose money. Waste money, you're in debt.
Time will pass unhindered, never be regained.
Power can be fleeting. It cannot long remain.
Money might improve your life so you live like a king.
Not a soul will ever know what the future will bring.
What you depend upon will not always be true,
Fate changes when its playing games with you.
Nothing you can count on, nothing's 'given' in life,
Fate will change the rules, it can cut you like a knife.
A fool and his money are soon parted, as is told.
The powerful fall and the young grow old.
The clock keeps on ticking as time continues on.
Life is a battle with the lines already drawn.
Strive for success in this existence man (or God) created,
Measure of success is a subject much debated.
Will future generations care if you're rich or poor?
Will you be remembered as the one who stopped a war?
Lives seem all-important, struggle to survive,
Part of an ecology that's also quite alive.
Like ants upon a boulder, mankind swarms planet Earth.
Considering their lives to be the only thing of worth.
Your actions shape the countries and the planet of your birth.
The solar system's not the same without your Mother Earth.
The universe is vast and Earth just a rock.
The clock is always ticking. Eternally. Tick-tock
Very nice imagery. I assume the poem is a metaphor about growing old. It flows real nice. The only line that sticks out is:
Night time holds it secrets
and dark, draw down the blinds
I would leave out 'and dark'. The drawing of the blinds make the point and gives it better flow.
Great read. Thanks.
Joe
Once upon a time there was a poor man looking for work to feed his family. Everyday,he stood in the labor hall waiting to be hired for any job. He was constantly over looked because he was not like the other men. No one would hire him. One day,there was work no one else wanted to do. It was nasty, smelly, back breaking work. The man did it with pride. Because of that, he was able to feed his family that day. He went back into the labor hall and waited for another job no one wanted to do, and again he did it well. Until finally,people hired him not for the color of his skin but for the work he did.
I'm sorry, I just don't get it. Either the poem is too elusive or just too elusive for me. Changing from the second person to the first person is also very confusing. I am unsure who the voice is and what gender the voice is. You reference to classic novels and song is a nice touch.
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