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Amanda Hawk Oct 15
Doodling out the hours
And minutes
Become tiny emojis
Criss-cross, half-finished
Tic tac toe games
And I feel lost
Each box a reminder
Of these quarantine
Afternoons, and your name
Is always on my lips
Along with the words
I miss you
one of my favorite hobbies-doodling
Zack Ripley Sep 13
Just because the world changes
Every day, hour, minute, and second,
Doesn't mean you have to.
But, then again,
Maybe that's exactly why you should.
Sheela Aug 3
Sand and oh it’s fall,  your formation and mine relate after all!

As the time drifts down
It’s echo swifts round shedding old for the new, yet envisioned my days blue
Scintillating hours, despising what was yours
To making it all mine for “dissolved ME ” could again shine
All those mystical minutes made out of fallen sand hath landed uncharily out of my close clenched hand

I collect all of you here in the bulb of one section,  its all together yet seems like it has lost its direction
Witnessed sand falls united at the apex, if this is the sweetest testimony
You and I never blend together is the bitterest baloney

Sand and oh it’s fall,  your formation and mine relate after all!
Left Foot Poet May 2014

that which used to take ten minutes
now takes an hour or

something's that used to take an hour or
now take ten minutes, give or
(mostly I do the taking)

(or as the little voice whispers, the mostly

betcha you'd like to which is what
and what is which being bewitched,

I ain't spilling no beans
cause I value my insanity's privacy,
and I don't got to give that up just yet

but if you want the worst of what little I got left,
unhappily I will approach the old muse
begging me giving me something to use,
bad she turns away bad she say

"You all tricked out,
you wares worn,
ye old styles from yester last month
you been styled by
30 days max,
ring in the new, and if all sold,
or none-at-all,
too bad for you

then you gotta decide:

wear a watch
or watch the wearing
with  small
pleasures sighed,
confirming,  night-moves,
Keep On Keeping On
Moe May 15
the wind is always cold
you look over the edge
drop slowly
your mouth chews out vowels and they resemble minutes
end-over-end crowds lost among your breaths
you dissolve and ask me to think of a place
with no points in the sky
Poetoftheway May 5
The Cost

“5 minutes to write, 5 minutes to edit and 10 more to cease weeping,”
when the inquiry arrives, how long/where from it comes,
gave this answer

more or less the response accurate
more or less the weeping really never ceases

I will return to it again, **** poem
random when, unreasoned why, wherefore
a stumble, a message, months from now, tomorrow,
even decades and I’ll remember the precise circumstances

for each poem has a Cost, that excises a piece of you, a new cut,
freshly salted, an antibiotic of loving may remove the
redness, but not the white line, so what you call a scar, I,
I call it an etched memory preserved

the sum of all These Costs, all these memories,
cumulative, additive, addictive - someone says:

stop being so sensitive, leave the telling to others,
or keep them in plastic bags, dated, retrievable,
in case an antiretroviral antidote is ever needed,
a fresh injection when you think you could even
cease to care

The Cost is always capitalized, for the Cost is called human capital,
the invisible financing that permits our existence till all spent,
when we’ve run out of drawer space, zipper bags,
breaths to be taken away and glass jars to store them,
if the mind says no more! then it will be ok,
for you are all spent

The Cost so great! this a double entendre,
for they are the stuff of me, whatever greatnesses
I ever possessed within them kept and believed,
happily paid for past and present, for the future,
will happily pay for it right now, again and again,
for the Costs are who I am, till, such time that
Costless arrives, eyes closed, nothing left to post,
to recall, no coin to give, my purposed all paid,

as if all paid could ever cause my weeping to cease

Mon May 4
10:48 am
Irakli Beria Mar 28
I know it's a difficult time,
Understand that you are characteristic
And so on -
- Despite being characteristically
You are still excellent ...

As for my current mood,
It is very similar to the last minutes of the apocalypse
Feel the love.
The Watch
by Michael R. Burch

Moonlight spills
down vacant sills,
illuminates an empty bed.

Dreams lie in crates.
One hand creates
wan silver circles, left unread

by its companion—unmoved now
by anything that lies ahead.

I watch the minutes
test the limits
of ornamental movement here,

where once another
hand would hover.
Each circuit—incomplete. So dear,

so precious, so precise, the touch
of hands that wait, yet ask so much.

Published by The Lyric, Carnelian, Net Poetry and Art Competition, Poetry on Demand, Famous Poets and Poems,  ImageNation (UK). Keywords/Tags: watch, hands, watching, time, movement, circles, cycles, circuits, minutes, limits, wait, waiting, death, incomplete, reunion, companion, ahead, night, bed, moonlight, crates
Eliseatlife Feb 17
Time is what we want most
We all need it
But time never waits
Time never stops


Use them
Time is now
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