Tempus Fugit

vinyl record


The more I have lived, the more I realize how there is never enough time to do everything.

There will always be those setbacks upon the plans of the day, and when I get back to them, I’ve already lost it.

It seems that the harder I work, the faster the clock ticks;

until its gone out the window and I’m down here crying on the floor.

All of the chances I get are gone in a snap, its all I can do not to lose my grip when I reach for them.

Just when autumn’s leaves start to turn, the snow is suddenly falling from grey clouds.

And you might as well just say Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas are all the same thing.

Life is a record, going around and around. We’re just changing the music.

So however long I live, I know that time will never stop.

And just like life, time is never going to slow up and wait for you either.


Marie Walters, 2018



Ghoulish Ditty



The devil’s in the parlor

fiddle striking up a tune

The werewolf’s in the courtyard

screaming at the moon

The ghost is at the piano

playing with his keys

The bench is empty where he sits

but no one needs to see…


-Marie Walters (10/14/18)

A Tree Stump Poem

I was the best in the field,

and yet my owner cut me down,

Now I have become a short,

sad tree stump for now.


Once I was a towering tree,

the bravest and tallest giant of the woods to thrive,

Holding onto my leaves like an umbrella for humans,

happy to be alive.


And then I was cut down in pieces,

and sold for my parts,

Headed to a factory,

and then to supermarts.


You may have broken me down,

but still you use me everywhere,

From lumberjack to factory,

my life has never been fair.


I can be used for writing words and numbers,

acting as both required,

Or in the cold, frigid, winter months,

you burn me for your fire.


But now I have been cut –

a tree stump just sitting here I will rot,

alone and abandoned for more than a year.


And yet I still have faith,

and courage to shoot up again,

Become taller and stronger,

unable to be cut by men.


But for right now, I will just be staying here,

My back aching from the bumps I got,

So I shall just remain a sad little tree stump.


-Lynette M. Hemingway, 8th grader

Halloween Poem

On a hazy, moonless, October night,
The house glowed with an ominous light,
Like a moth to a flame,
The man was drawn just the same,
Through the creaky door,
The man heard a wailing roar,
Every hair raised on the back of his neck,
He pondered whether to leave or to check,
To the contrary of what he first saw,
The room was now as dark as a black cat’s paw,
He stumbled in and to his dismay,
The man felt breathing every which way,
The lights flashed on as he heard “Surprise!”,
He was surrounded by red beady eyes,
The man was never seen again,
And that house remains a vampire’s den.

Poem about Older Run -Gary Paulsen

After reading “Older Run” by Gary Paulsen, I had decided to make a poem to help me better understand the story. I also decided to write it in first person as well, with the main character being Paulsen himself with his dogs on a sleigh full of meat.


Older Run Poem- First Person                                                               Michael Hemingway

It was a freezing day through the mist and the fog,

But in my very sleigh were ten distinct dogs,

They were diverse sizes, ages, and different breeds,

And of course there I was in the lead,

I kept them on with meat, a lot of pounds,

We spoke no words,  made no sounds,

It was an open run until we reached the trestle/bridges,

By then my hand was entirely frigid,

As we tried passing, I noticed the absence of wood,

There was no snow, but I’d try to save the dogs, if I could,

I tried everything although there was only one way,

Leave the dogs and drag my sleigh,

For a while I, Mr. Paulsen, believed this ride had no purpose,

Until the sight of dogs left me wordless,

After the dogs had run away,

Cookie had brought the dogs and saved the day!

Writing a Modern Thanatopsis

Thanatopsis is a poem, written to explain death. However, since the poem was written, time has passed, and our way of speaking has changed with it. And so, I created a modern thanatopsis written in first person. Hope you enjoy!

He descended down from a dark and gloomy shroud of mist,

Dressed in a wide cloak, overflowing with darkness,

I had prepared for this moment, for all of my time,

He took a hard-long look into my soul,

With a cold-stoned face and jet black eyes, leading to a world of misery,

At that moment, all the years I had worked for had deteriorated, my life was parted,

And so were the memories held within it,

The seconds, to minutes, to hours, then it turned to dust,

As I left the mortal world,

I became one with the grandeur skies and lush jungles, 

I ran out into the open, grassy valley,

In which emanated serenity and tranquility,

I listened to nature’s teachings, bringing me closer to happiness,

But as time went on, everything began to crumble,

Finally, the volt white ball giving off light sunk into the horizon,

And a cratered one took its place,

Like yin and yang,

Each there to balance each other out,

Pain and pleasure, old and new, life and death,

None without the other,

And so I came to the realization that I should let go of my past, 

For the new to start their very own,

And so, I gave one finally everlasting goodbye,

And sunk with the sun,

I had found many humans weeping over my physical counterpart,

That I went down gladly,

In hopes of a new light,

I was once again reunited,

For one last lullaby,

And went down into my soft and earthy bed,

Where I would rest for eternity,

Not regretting a single moment,

I began my slumber,

With a heaping of happiness 

One Last Time

Two people walking in the distance down a snowy road through the woods

This is it. The end is near

No laughs. No cries

Nor any happily ever after


My story will be buried in the forest of Neverland

So no living soul will know

So here I am almost at the end

Asking you to look into my eyes

For one last time


To find the answer before I leave

For one last time I want to hear that imperfect voice

For one last time I want to see that imperfect face

Because that imperfect self, is perfect to me


We drift apart farther everyday

Though we still end up crossing

No matter the distance between heaven and hell

We always pass by


You pretend not to see it, so do I

Yet, we can’t deny in our hearts

The cold truth of life


One last time,

I want to remember you

One last time ,

I want to see my self with you, just talking

All I ask is for one last time


Because, I have created a spell, strongest of all

That’ll take my memory of you,

Through wicked lightning and thunderstorms,

and no longer will I know you

As the storms wash you away from me


Everything will go the same…

Except, I won’t remember you, even in haze

Yet, there is a way to stop it…

Every spell can be stopped….