Changing times #Haiku Challenge 1@RonovanWrites


RonovanWrites Haiku Challenge 141 with prompt words – Breeze, Blow

Age old breeze of time

Sweeping debris, unceasing

Change is ever, more.

~ FlorenceT

In gratitude of the present. These are the days…


~ FlorenceT


© 2017 FlorenceT Copyright reserved. The author asserts her moral and legal rights over this work.


And time marches on…


It takes time for hurts to be forgiven, for a heart to heal. It takes time for a house to be a home, for a connection to be a commitment.

I was always aware of time, keeping close watch on deadlines, setting time frames, being on time. This ‘trait’ of being punctual and fulfilling obligations in time is a motivator for many of the things I did. In some ways, it was a blessing as I have achieved many things in life driven by this elusive concept of time. And it had also placed many pressures on me, some in hindsight so needless.

Watching children grow, and having certain expectations of how they ought to be “by this time” – whether they are 5, 10 or 15 years old – is laughable. Setting time frames on natural development of a life has come about in the last century – with books on the developmental milestones of little persons taken as gospel truths. A guide is not a standard. And these so-called “standards” get worse as they grow, from how mature a child ought to be by a certain age, to what experiences they ought to have encountered, what behaviour they ought or ought not exhibit… in order to be an ‘enough’ person.

Time marches on regardless of a person’s progress. What does a woman in her 40s ought to possess, to have done, to behave, to be considered successful in life? Or fulfilled in life? Looking at the years past, there have been paths not taken, wrong turns, joyous rides, proud moments, accidental encounters, courageous retreats… and they happen with time. They were not events to which time is the driver, quite the contrary. Yet they are the still life which are most remembered or cherished.

I have learnt patience, of letting time runs its course. Heck, I have no control over it! I have also learnt to take care of myself, to do what I desire, what I will, what I must in the best way possible without the spectre of time on me.

Life has been slow and fast at various points of this life but none as the last 12 months (that I can remember :-)).

It has been slow as I had only been able to present on each moment at a time, taking one step after the next without looking too far as that future had been overwhelming. In that I learnt a valuable lesson in mindfulness, in finally knowing time waits for no one nor does it rush. Enough is being the best I can be in that moment. Finally, I realise the fallacy of “missing out” if we don’t rush on, if we don’t grab every opportunity presented “just in case”. What is right is only right if it is right with me.

The past 12 months have also been fast. Measuring by the magnitude of accomplishments, the height of joy, the depth of sadness, the immensity of feelings and degree of resolute focus needed, I have lived more years in the last one year than I thought possible for me. What a lesson in the enormity of human capacity, because we are not that different, you and I.

We experience time in its passing through our lives – growing, maturing, aging and death, focus and intention, love and loss, happiness and sorrow; through the cycles of the natural world; and the decay of human-made objects. We don’t see time, it is not concrete.

Time is a relative concept, as physicists can attest. It is always moving and always static. Always forward, irreversible and parallel to our human living.

What motivates us ought to be more than a concept, don’t you think?

So as we approach the new year, for us I wish a year of timeless soul-deep intention, passionate being and meaningful doing.



© 2016 FlorenceT Copyright reserved. The author asserts her moral and legal rights over this work.

#Tanka Challenge 6 @ColleenChesebro


My contribution to Colleen’s Weekly Tanka Poetry Prompt Challenge, with her prompt words – Wind and Grace.


Autumn leaves falling,
wind aloft, being carried
to a distant shore;
As love awaits beyond time,
to claim and be claimed, the same.
~ Florence T


And a song along similar theme, for your enjoyment:


~ FlorenceT

© 2016 FlorenceT Copyright reserved. The author asserts her moral and legal rights over this work.

#Haiku Challenge 113 @RonovanWrites


RonovanWrites Haiku Challenge 11with prompt words – Beach, Time


Heat reflecting off

quartz edged and facet, mirage

Time drifts as it will.

~ FlorenceT


Image of Phillip Island, Australia, courtesy of A Matter of Taste.

© 2016 FlorenceT Copyright reserved. The author asserts her moral and legal rights over this work.


Time lost



He tries looking beyond the crowd, to the source of the haunting voice. It has appeared from nowhere …and he just has to see. If only the throbbing would stop…

His head is ready to explode… and the pressure behind his eyes… what a sweet song. Who is she? A feeling of dread … of curiosity… of…, oh he can’t think, trying to focus. On the voice.

His chest constricts, a twisting sensation. Gasping for air, he chokes on the smoke assaulting his throat… Taking another gulp, hoping for some soothing, some comfort… Awful… yeah, he has left his drink for too long. Tepid beer…

Lifting his arm, he tries again to usher the crowd aside… his hand connecting with the nicotine-filled air and drops to his side. That voice…if only he remembers but…

Swivelling back on the barstool, he raises his hand , lifting his index finger…red, he decides as his eyes connect with the bottles lining the wall behind the bartender. His mind drifts to bodies swaying gently, the sensations of her dress brushing against him, her hands in his hair…his heart fills full; she was smiling, her eyes shining with love for him, her beauty was unsurpassed, he would tell anyone this…now…but…

Mhmm, damn thirsty, he thinks as he downs it in one long swill… nice red. Crimson spreads across his striped shirt. He does not notice. Craning his neck to catch a glimpse of her. He is not leaving without seeing who she is… no, he can’t leave his friends.

Oh, where are they? They must be up front, where she is… yes, he remembers…they used to dance to her songs. He must say hello, she’ll remember them…she must. He jumps off the barstool, his forehead meeting the floor in one graceless fall. His world darkens.

Ticks and tocks of essential time, sink the spirits lower than wine.


This is in response to a weekly fiction writing prompt hosted by RonovanFriday Fiction with RonovanWrites.  Join in for some writing fun!

– FlorenceT


© 2016 FlorenceT Copyright reserved. The author asserts her moral and legal rights over this work.

#Haiku Prompt Challenge 40 – New, Time


RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Prompt Challenge #40 – New, Time

I wrote this a couple of days ago while sitting in my car in traffic.



Knowing, not knowing
New sensation, can’t resist 
Time for renewal.




Finally have time to post it.  As it so happens today is my birthday, another haiku came to mind.



Time expands, contracts
Moments live on eternal
Experienced anew.





– FlorenceT


© 2015 Copyright reserved. The author asserts her moral and legal rights over this work.

Living the Rhythm of Life


My guest post on @RonovanWrites


Florence 2This month’s guest is Florence Thum of Meanings and Musings. Lawyer, Therapist, College Professor, Writer, Blogger, Mother, and more. And no, those are not in any particular order. A lady from Down Under with a lot to say and lot of ways to say it.

As I venture here as a guest still wondering what I could possibly offer on RonovanWrites, I am reminded ‘write what you love’. At the moment, what I love is TIME because I have so little of it. It is what I covet most.

Time poorTime cannot be bought, it is beyond my control. If I do nothing, if no one does anything, time will still pass in its own rhythm, in its own time.

Time is.

Of course my perception of how time passes, the judgment I bring to its passing and to my being in it as it passes, is my own. That…

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Good enough


aging hands


Looking at these hands:

– the years of wiping tears as they fall

– the years of holding, soothing the child to sleep

– the years of caressing with deep pain within

– the years of toiling with illusions of happiness


No more.

You are good enough, more than this.

– FlorenceT


© 2014 Copyright reserved. The author asserts her moral and legal rights over this work.