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A Poet Jul 2020
Dwindling, spiraling, running out
Life is naught but a mayfly

No time but now
Yesterday, the only guarantee
But for a mayfly, there is no yesterday
And tomorrow is already out of the question
Yesterday and tomorrow
Mean nothing to the mayfly
And so we live today

Goes the heart of the mayfly
Beating tirelessly, loving endlessly
Each indiscernible thump
Exuding the rich melody of life
Until it stops
And we return to dust

But oh! How passionately our hearts did beat!
Intoxicated by the pure joy of being
How could we be wrenched away
From the moments we shared
The moments we called trivial and routine that
We now romanticize

The mayfly lives for five minutes
The mayfly lives for the moment
The man lives for 79 years
The man lives for tomorrow
Until there are no more tomorrows

Until the cumulation of every unfulfilled dreams and desire
Come crashing down like a great wave and
We return to the dust

The mayfly has no tomorrow
The man needs not tomorrow

Dwindling, spiraling, running out
Life is naught but a mayfly
Bella Isaacs Jul 2020
One life, darling, in this form, at least
One day the sun won’t rise any more in the east
For you, at any rate. Will you be able to say
On that final day, when Fate takes your breath away
You lived it to the fullest?
Made it beautiful even in the second that seemed the dullest?
Here is my advice – do something mad once in a while,
Something that the thought of makes you smile
Not just with delight, but with amusement, too
At its absurdity in it being something you wouldn’t ordinarily do
Take a chance – Take a run, make a dance,
Don’t be shy, and write to that acquaintance,
Compliment a stranger, take photos of ducks,
Order the wackiest ice cream, smile on those times when you’re down on your luck
Because you were brave, and because you dared
To live your life in the truest way that you cared.
I was having a bit of fun, and we need a carpe diem poem every once in a while ;) .
Zack Ripley Jun 2020
only time will tell
how far you've come.
Only time will tell
How far you'll go.
Only time will tell
How much you've learned.
Only time will tell
How much you've grown.
Only time will tell
How much you've lived.
Only time will tell
When you'll die.
But since we don't know
What time will say,
Let's try to make the most
Of every day.
Bella Isaacs May 2020
Messy ink, ragged paper, dust
I laid them down to gather dust
And came back to them only now
Sorting, sitting, wondering how
A few weeks ago these worksheets
Were my world, these were feats
Of daily effort to a common goal
Now, never to be touched by all of us at all.
And saying “To think...” to my sister, who didn’t hear,
And likely never will, I all but let go of a single tear.
My first A Level paper was due to be sat next Friday, and now that will never happen, and it is likely that none of my year will ever go back to school.
Bella Isaacs May 2020
Why do I feel like I’m falling?
It isn’t me, it’s lost time falling
Away from my feet.

But why should time be lost,
When it is I that am lost,
I acknowledge my defeat

In the face of my own blind pride
And beg that you might spend another second beside
One who deserves to fall from grace,
But in its place
Is flying, soaring, hurtling,
At a rate so star-rate startling
I had to still my coursing thoughts to realise
All of this beauty is passing before my eyes
Passing in my life, and I saw none of it.
I accepted, lived in, used, but saw none of it.
Therefore it isn’t time that should be lost,
When I failed to make the most
Of it, when it’s my value that’s falling
And its is rising, and I’m failing
To match it, in its falling, and its rising,
And realising
Far too late, the worth
Of stopping, admiring, planting ones feet into the earth
For just a minute.
Living in the minute since I am, you are, we are, in it.
Zack Ripley Jul 2019
As the world turns, a fire burns.
And as that fire burns, another one dies.
As the world turns, a baby cries.
But this should come as no surprise
Every day, the earth spins around and around.
And it'll still be spinning long after we move underground.
As far as we know, this is the only life we've got.
So don't be afraid to live for yourself.
Go ahead. Take your shot
archwolf-angel Jan 2020
The stars were gentle...

But they screamed out to me
The tales of fate and destiny

They sang the songs of flaming promises
To remind me
To touch my heart and feel

To remember
The healing touch of the moon
And the warmth of the sun

To live with no regrets
To love with all my heart
To smile like there is no tomorrow.
There is nothing more important than understanding and knowing what you are living for.
Today is the day.
I am a mayfly.
I have no memories of growing up,
and no expectations of growing old.
I have learned nothing.

Today is my day.
I will not sit by.
Swiftly I live, there is no slowing up,
and no time for my feelings going cold.
I will be something.

Today is the day.
I’ll reach for the sky.
Driven only by instinct flowing up,
to unknown destiny of glowing gold.
I am everything.

Today is the day.
I will live and die.
I’ll have seized the day just by showing up,
ignoring fear to live by knowing bold.
I won’t be nothing.
Instagram @not.thepoet.hewantstobe
Some people speak of living for the moment.
Having "carpe diem" as their slogan.
Their decree to want to take life day by day.
Hoping fate will lead the way, and things will always be okay.
Taking it easy; Life is a holiday to be enjoyed and  celebrated the right way.

Others say this is a hippie cliche.
That living day to day isn't living, its surviving.
It's not thriving, to truely live means striving.
Its realizing what you want most and trying.
About devising a plan to achieve all you aspire.
Gain the skills and knowledge you require.
To go higher, elevate and inspire, be someone others admire.
Stand with the fruits of labor in your hand that you have acquired and be proud for getting that which you desire.

Two ways to look at life I guess.
Value one view doesn't make the other less.
Assess what's important to you; pave your own road to success.
Some play the fame of life as checkers; others as chess.
Wanted to make it longer but felt it it the points I wanted to get accross
Cana May 2019
The bird songs ring out harmonious
Their calls for some wanton *******,
The best type.
Reciprocated across the landscape
Which is not the right word
There’s more sea here than land.
an orange hangs low in the lonely sky
Perfectly ripe,
Dripping wet with honeyed shades of gold,
Coating palm trees and my knees.
Also my cigarette box and my coffee mug. A slow swell pitching and yawing,  
a side to side appreciated only by those trying to sleep.
A breeze lazier than I licks my cheeks and fondles my thighs.
It’s time, to go.
Morning world
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