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A ticking clock sits crooked on the kitchen wall only to help us wave
the seconds goodbye.

Why did we stare at it everyday?
It's the same routine just the next day.
It becomes the next week, the next month,  then the next year.

The seconds go by with
many desolute moments
and many cringe worthy processes.

Where does all this time go while it crushes our dreams, destroys our ambitions, as we sip on a pina colada
on a beach to nowhere

Is it 5 o'clock somewhere?

Feels like midnight though
with a full moon
crossing over with rainclouds
that are beckoning to be heard.
Time didn't stand still for
those thunderstorms in our bedrooms,
but we did welcome them in.

Glancing back at the clock on the wall,
the essence of time keeps going.
We cannot retreive those lost seconds until we capture the moments
we have together.
Piyush Mar 12
"Time Is Money"
"Time Is Everything "
They Say, But
What Actually Time Is?

An Expensive Dime?
An Uncontrollable Dine?
Or Maybe It is Unforgettable,
Just Like A Fine Wine.

A Fleeting Moment,Lost In A Grind,
Is It Mine?
Or Is It Of Different Kind?
Maybe It Is Not A Right Time,
To Understand Time.

Or Maybe What I'm Doing Now
Is Another Example Of "Waste Of Time".
Imarie Feb 26
A sweet voice in your written word,
A stolen hour, like none I've heard.
Mr. Sunshine you caught my falling hair,
A fleeting joy, I never knew.

This fragile bloom, a whispered grace,
A stolen moment, distance ,time and space
Moment's breath, a held, exquisite dream
The heart's canvas, memory's trace.
Dedication for Mr. Phoenix
Lalit Kumar Feb 25
Laughter spills like golden light,
Words stretch into endless nights.
Time bends where hearts confess,
In stolen moments of tenderness.
Lostling Feb 11
You came
Like a thrush;
Swiftly over the soft hills of powdered snow

And landed
On my shoulder
Perching on me as snowflakes dusted my hair

Then you left
In a single breath
Leaving me behind to face the avalanche, alone once more
(One moment of air, ten years of drowning
Hold my breath and keep on counting
Till I can breathe again)
Vianne Lior Feb 12
I thought life was an equation,
one that could only exist in absolutes—
black against white,
sharp lines, clear edges.
But then, you blurred the borders,
redefined what it meant to be whole.

And I realized that in the spaces between,
where nothing is clear,
the most profound truths linger—
not in certainty,
but in the quiet chaos of change,
where we are found, whole in our imperfection.
Do lips have ears to catch the sound,  
Do lips have eyes where visions drown?  
Do lips hold hearts that softly beat,  
In every whisper, every greet?  

Do lips, with honey, sweetly blend,  
A taste of dreams that never end?  
Do lips, with saffron’s gentle hue,  
Hold secrets deep, both rich and true?  

Do lips have souls, a spark, a flame,  
That kindles love, that calls your name?  
How do these lips, with power untold,  
Weave magic warm and tender, bold?  

With every sigh, with every kiss,  
They stir the heart to boundless bliss.  
Like roses soft, with petals pure,  
Their fragrance lingers, sweet and sure.  

Kisses, the secret to life’s delight,  
A spark of heaven in the quiet night.  
A touch that holds the universe still,  
Binding souls with an unspoken thrill.  

Valentine’s joy, with love so bright,  
Fills the heart and lights the night.  
A gift of passion, a tender vow,  
A promise of forever, here and now.  

So tell me, seeker, with longing true,  
What ancient force lies hid from view?  
For in these lips, both soft and pure,  
Lies love’s own secret, rich and sure.  
A sweetness, like saffron, finely spun,  
In every kiss, a world begun.
Lips of Love 08/02/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
I love sitting with you,
regardless of what's going on,
or where we are.
Nothing happens.
Everything is at peace.
No anxiety. No weight.
No rush
to be or to do.

Our eyes are free to rest,
our bodies free from tension.
Of all the things I could say,
all the invitations of where we could go,
when I sit with you,
time is irrelevant.
It doesn’t even come ankle high.
It too continues to walk past us,
probably hungry,
looking for something to do,
until we decide to do something
more than sit
and enjoy each other’s time.

The truth is in the way we breathe.
I can say that it’s nothing,
but a piece of me
finds its way into you.
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