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Roses are red,
I am queer,
525,600 is the amount,
Of minutes in a year.
Idk man, this is what my sleep deprived mind came up with last night

Something I should tell myself more often:

Those
5 extra minutes
you spend in bed after your alarm
do nothing but
make you more late.



Perhaps you can relate.
c Sep 9
I’ve missed you in so many ways
The minutes and miles between us
Grow my heart ever fonder
And it scares me
Because I’m never sure
That you feel the same
Bhill Aug 24
The clock ticks away
Watching minutes passing by
Learn how to control your time
Do things that give you joy
Take the time to realize
Realize to understand
Understand to recognize
Recognize to acknowledge
Acknowledge time has moments
Live for those moments

Brian Hill - 2019 #215
Take the time to respect time
Philomena Jul 12
Days turn to hours,
Hours to minutes,
Minutes to seconds.
Time slips away,
Faster and faster with every moment,
Until I'm stranded without you.
“I love you.”
“I know.”
Between the highs,
And the low,
In the times
When I’m alone,
That’s what love does.

It comforts,
And hides
In the corners
Of your mind,
Yet surprises
Just in time.
That’s what love does.

It takes
The chance
The percentage
Of circumstance,
The sacrifice
In glance,
And does what love does.

It conquers,
And pays
The cost,
Without delays,
As if it’s not much,
To stay,
Because that’s what love does.

It hugs,
It kisses,
It sees you
And misses,
Yer true love,
Rarely disses,
Because that’s what love does.
5/7/19

I haven’t written poetry in a while, even the silly, cheesy, lovey stuff. Even that used to be so simple and easy, but I haven’t done it in a while, primarily because of the most cliché reason: I’ve been too busy. My Love reminded me of what loves means, and how it supercedes that of any excuse. He does that a lot. He reminds me of the simplicities in life and helps me enjoy them. It’s just a funny coincidence how he said something that inspired me to write a poem about just that: “That’s what love does.” It wasn’t until after I wrote this that I realized all it takes is just a little of my time... If you truly love something, more than likely you can make something happen of it. I’m proud to say this was a result. Here’s to hoping that I don’t lose sight of the simple things in life, and Lord help me if I do forget by placing people in my life to help me remember.

This was written in just 7 minutes...
Kayla Hardy Apr 8
Today marks 133,920 minutes and
the answer still isn’t clear.
Unfortunately, it never will be
because poetry doesn’t have one.

No rhyme or structure
nor 14 stanza song
can make it easier to
solve this meddling art.

Only 336 hours to go
maybe you’ve got an idea for
what all the math in this poem
actually signifies or -

The message it might have
and the meaning rooted in
this 23-year-old brain
who is struggling as well.

Still, after 106 days
when the final day is here
we’ll all scratch our heads with a shrug,
and say, poetry is never clear.
Poetic T Feb 17
Clinging to seconds when
      There where hours that
                  Flew by.

But we never
        Caught that flight.
Instead we looked
out the window
            counting the seconds.

Every moment counts..
      Don't let anything
Fly by,
          catch every breath as
                     They never fly forever.
Cecil Miller Dec 2018
Ten minutes til the perculator
Brings me from grime to grind.
And in the morning stars are setting,
As soon the sun will rise...

On a world that I hate to hate.
On a world that loves to hate me.
I have to go outside and want to die.
I cannot stay in and hide.

There are monsters in the field
And they've got the taste of blood.
There is no end in sight.
I cake my face with mud.

They always know to find me,
Though I move in patterns, rare.
Deep inside, I turn inside,
I deny dispair.

I know I'll never beat them.
I avoid, but can't back down.
And so I'll take the beating,
But I'll try to rend their skin.

I know just how they see me.
The same as they did then.
Silent words that we all know
Do not go unknown for sin.

The time has metered nothing.
It hasn't changed a thing.
If authority lets loose it's leash,
The dogs would gnash again.

The eyes upon me see distainly
What they want to hurt.
Only, just, to keep alive
What every monster wants.

Ten minutes til the perculator
Has darkly roasted beans,
That was ground into powder,
Like the bullets in my lean.

The night will soon be like
A blanket ripped from me
To show me in the basking light
For all the world to see.

They'll say that I'm a monster.
I always was so strange.
I was a trouble-maker, boiler maker
And the only one to blame.

They'll say I was a bad seed.
When all of them do know
The type of horror that befell
From the monsters long ago.

In times of triumph I did learn
How best to bide the time.
They think I'm so predictable.
They're thinking colorblind.

For all the worth of quiet,
And to rest this savage pain,
And retribute the misery,
(It won't happen again)

And yet you'll cry for justice.
Say it's never served.
If you used measured all they put on me,
They'll get what they deserve.

The victim becomes monster,
The world fears the marters more
Than any of the heathan clan...
Ten minutes, nothing more.
I wanted to write something provacative and edgy. I also wanted to empathize with another point of view. I think if it polarizes, that's a fair reaction.
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