PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A Nag Called Time

She’s no noble steed—
more like a barnyard tyrant,
hooves tapping like a bad drummer
outside my skull.

Neigh, neigh, neigh—
she heckles from the rafters,
snorting at my plans,
biting at my heels.

Deadlines? She neighs louder.
Appointments? She rears,
throws me face‑first
into the muck of “too late.”

No whisperer can hush her,
no wizard can banish her.
She’s the heckler you can’t eject,
the drunk at the back of the tavern
who knows exactly when to jeer.

And yet—
I cinch the reins,
pretend I’m in charge.
Each tick of the clock
a hoofbeat of mockery,
each second a whinny
in my ear.

Still, if I can ride her tantrums,
this nag called Time
might just carry me—
begrudging, braying—
toward a sunset
she’ll neigh about all the way.

.