Spending Time - Aug 29 2025

 

Spending Time

Aug 29 2025

One of those days

when nothing gets done.

Is this how time’s to be measured?

By completed lists

and boxes checked,

the Puritanical ethic

fulfilled?

Because work is virtuous

while sloth’s a deadly sin,

idle hands

the devil’s instrument.

But isn’t thought the ultimate luxury?

Isn’t time freed

better than time filled?

Unstructured time

with no ticking clocks

or looming deadlines.

Is boredom

left to fill itself

the void nature abhors,

or interstellar space

ripe to be explored?

Which is how I spent my day.

Or, if you prefer

squandered, wasted, lost it.

But instead of the gambler 

who doubles down

and blows his meagre fortune,

I’m the one who cashes out;

who uses his winnings

in order to while away the day

deep in thought.

Or just up to my knees,

wading through the shallows

with nowhere to be;

my wandering mind

with its pants rolled-up and shoes off 

feeling sand between its toes.

I was raised to be frugal,

and true to my heritage

instead of consuming time

I husband it;

not distracting myself 

with impulse buys and shopping sprees,

but investing wisely

then splurging on the dividends.

Because this is how a self-made man 

goes from rags to riches,

and how a poet

gets to practice his craft.

Who feels no need 

to keep track of time 

be productive

measure his worth in money;

knowing

that bored enough

he’ll write something or other

and call it time spent well enough.

The good poems,

no matter how few

and how accidental.

And even the bad ones

no matter how long it takes.

Because they’re good practice

if nothing else.

And because time spent writing

is never a waste.

The pleasure of time

in and of itself.

Even with nothing to show for it

but another bad poem

and sand between my toes.