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Özcan Sh Apr 2018
Time never stops
The clocks keep ticking
I wish i could stop the time
So i can be with you forever.
Never throw your time out the window, you never know when the clock stops ticking
Maverick Mar 2018
You’ve been gone
Longer than you stayed
The ticking of a clock
Echoing the sound
Of my heart break
Said you’d never leave
You were gone the next day
Told me I made you happy
But something made you run away
An unsolved mystery
You’ll take to your unmarked grave.
Meg Howell Mar 2018
The grandeur and intensity I have felt recently has clouded my mind like a fog brushing the top of a mountain at dawn.
The romanticization of our shared aspirations and desperation has left me mesmerized and hypnotized like the effects of a magician performing a conjuration. Not meaning to sound as cliche or pretentious as I know this will, you are my idea of a vacation. What u mean by this is that, when I’m near you, I want to stay this way until the inevitable sands of time run out. But I can’t. I can’t because most of life is work and you are my relaxation. You are a cup of hot tea when the icicles reign supreme outside. One day, I will see you every day. Even then, I know I won’t want those days to end. But end they must. So we face the test of time, wearing infatuation and admiration as our weapons, fighting the clocks and schedules that trail so closely behind. We fight and we fight and we fight.
Danielle Mar 2018
My feet are cold and boredom has struck
Along with the big hand on the clock
It screams out “FOUR”
I think it’s in the A.M.
I have a love hate relationship with time and thought about a small series relating to how each hour of the night makes me feel.
Amanda Kay Burke Mar 2018
I love you at Dawn, the sun rises,
While the rest of the world sleeps,
Soft like the glow that envelopes
The humans laid in crumpled heaps.

At daybreak the love we share
Blankets the earth and wind like fog,
Winding itself through meadows and streams,
Settling on each field and bog.

I love you in the morning
When birds sing their early song
The sky a striking shade of blue,
The still air remaining strong.

Midday my love has not wavered,
It burns as bright as the sun,
Shining down, only for you,
Even after the warmth is done.

My love for you continues at noon
As temperatures soar high
Above the clouds I'm dreaming of,
A place my desire goes to lie.

By afternoon my love is tired,
Worry weighing down each bone,
Despite the struggles that come
It remains as sturdy as stone.

In twilight my love still sparkles
While the radiance of day fades away,
When all light is steady dying
Ours will find a way to stay.

By evening my love grows anxious,
Transitions like the woods go dark
It flees before it is overtaken
But the dim in the trees leaves a mark.

The love we share paints sundown with
our passion in gold, pink, and red,
The sunset vibrant and striking
Like the wild whispered words we said

I love you even at dusk
With its silent shadows that stalk,
Infatuation fluidly flows
Deeper than the ink in which they dock.

Our love is exhausted by nightfall,
Still it shines as clearly as the moon,
Keeping company to fireflies
And chirping crickets that croon.

Midnight strikes; my heart is at rest,
But it is forever strong I am certain,
When tomorrow comes I will fall
In love with you all over again.
My love is an endless cycle
Gale L Mccoy Mar 2018
im so far down
i have nothing to say
no words to be found
i hear bells
and i see the ticking clock
but i am so far down
i reach for nothing
for there is nothing there
instead i listen to the chimes
and watch the clock tick down
Jocelyn Mar 2018
although it may be scary
although you may feel stuck

the clock will continue ticking
the sun and the moon will continue their exchange
calendar pages will continue turning
and time will go on

you must trust the ways of the world
they have not failed you before
they will not fail you now

trust the peace
and the benefits that time will give.
Jessica Jarvis Feb 2018
Here, I rest, with two words left to say.
To say how I feel is irrelevant to my actions.
My actions are proved by the degrading of my hands.
My hands now tell a story soon forgotten.
Forgotten are all things but tidbits in time.
Time is a precious thing, taken by all.
All do not appreciate the work behind this glass.
Glass breaks, but only if broken by others.
By others, I mean those who forget my face.
My face rests, here, dumbfounded, yet patient.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
9/18/17

Don't you like to write poetry about inanimate objects too?
Karol Feb 2018
You and I
we have always knew
this is not gonna end well
if i speak my mind this dies
if i stay silent i die
6 months
and we died

I’m begging right know
Tell me what to do?

should I walk away
or try harder ?
Will you ever be able to love me?
Will I be able to tell you I love you?

The clock won’t stop for us
Not even you stop for us
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