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Evenings a lovable sensitive thang.
Opting to pass usual good morning greetings as some sang.
Skipping morning bits.. rushing into the afternoon.
She welcomed the mid day
Knowing  with it a smile was on the way.
She allowed early evening to greet letting things bloom.
Working away late evening as sleepy eyes rang.
Conversations a quick cute head nodding overhang.
Good nights are like lullabies of verbal hugs.
Wasted evenings are snatching from beneath feet taken for granted rugs.
All to start another night in shimmering thoughtful plights.
Tugging away ribbons in flights.
Meaningful minds quietly dreamin.
As others may be secretly scheming.
Attentions paid to faded good morning hello's.
With hollow tones from yesterdays grading zero's.
Wash rinse and repeating..
Behaviors doomed to be failing.
Creativity craves new feelings.
Rare moments  seems to be fleeting.
Evenings are acceptable, noondays are welcoming,
as are the rushing of mornings.
selinasharday rosePoet s.a.m 2019-5-1
Just saying passionate about the passing times..
old willow Feb 10
I open window to greet ashen sky,
A shy fellow he is, covered in misty clouds.
Laying in my bed, I douse myself In comfort.
Too comfortable… Watching bamboo spoon falling,
My finger too limped to react,
So I let it thump the floor.
ramya Sep 2020
Like a mother knows her child,
Like a reader knows his books
I knew you inside out despite all the shields that you put.
I knew what made you laugh,
I knew what made you cry
I knew what you wanted at 3 at night
I knew that your mind was part *******, part church,
the poles hidden behind swanky curtains that were a little out of touch.
I knew what it was like to be with you at noon and night
I knew everything about you, could’ve told you apart
with a blindfold on, in room that was dark.

Behind all the light, it was a little gloomy,
behind all the happiness , there was some fear.
I guess that’s where I felt short in knowing you, my dear.
For all the claims I make about knowing you in every way
I never could’ve predicted the way we fell and frayed.
Now we pass each other in the street and look away
as if we weren’t there for each other at noon and night every day.
Aparna Sep 2020
through diaphonous blinds

radiant sunlit boughs

high noon;

restive breaths drawn

in palpable pain

balmy wind caresses;

disquietude loud

as sparrows chirped,

hints of perspiration

upon delirious forehead

crystallized;

she fell asleep

as calescence spread

waiting for pain to abate
period

cramps got me thinking

❛That's the thing about pain,it demands to be felt❜
- The Fault In Our Stars
chi Aug 2020
noon, tayo ay nag mahalan
bumuo tayo ng mga pangakong aking pinang hawakan
gumawa tayo ng mga bagay na nag resulta ng sobrang kaligayahan

ngayon, wala na; wala ng tayo
kinalimutan at binalewala mo ang ating mga pangako
pero sinta, ako'y hayaan mo
tutuparin ko kung ano man ang ating na plano

at sa hinaharap, patuloy kitang mamahalin
ang ating sinimulan, itutuloy ko parin
kahit ako nalang mag isa, at ikaw ay hindi na akin
—g.l
here’s to all my filos out there <3
Ipadeola Glory A Feb 2020
NOON
A whole day lives in a room
That accommodates the noon,
Which is just before the afternoon
And when no one sees the moon.

No one regards the noon,
But yet regard afternoon
Which comes after the visitation of the noon.

By heart dances to the noon tune,
When I'm said to be immune
And is unheard of having danger loom,
While it stays in its room.

Approaching comes the noon with fumes,
Even without perfumes,
Giving a beautiful tune
Than that of a sand dune.

A minute lasts the noon,
When silence may last in a room,
So does the noon leave boom,
Thereby leaving the afternoon
To rule the rest of the day,
Before the approach of the moon.

But look...
Approaching comes the noon.
Shofi Ahmed Apr 2019
Oh, you already had a look?
Not me I am not hooked
but tell me if you could
how did it look?
Please tell us the truth.

Like the sun at noon
shining upon the rose?
Or a veiled beauty
in the dark hewn
like the Moon?
Chris Jan 2019
One morning, down a lonely path,
Wandered two friends, Me, and Death.
One morning while the sun did rise,
Walked the path my friend and I.

An came we across a man,
Whose life was sad, whose life was cruel,
And came we to understand,
Man was but a poor, poor fool.

And came we across a horse,
Whose riding days have long since passed,
And came we on our morning course,
To shame the first and pity the last.

To all things this might be true.
You shame me, I pity you.

And came we across a crow,
While the sun behind did shine,
And blackened it the early glow,
Yet it's darkness was divine,

And came we across a sheep,
In its curly coat ov wool,
And as is likely to repeat,
Sheep was also but a fool.

To all things this I might say,
You block the path, I fly away.

And time to choose came all too soon,
Which ov them to take with us,
On our lonely path to noon,
Whose time here did really pass?

In the end we chose the man,
Or rather HE, he makes the rules,
He told me, as only death can:
I never learned to pity fools.

After him, He chose the sheep,
Grim reaper swung his fingers forth
And as blood ran, no man did weep,
Said He: cries are but for human sort.


His mercy did end to receive,
Neither white sheep nor the fool.
Neither stupid nor naive,
Are free from His grip cold and cruel.

To all things this must be true,
We're only sheep, both me and you.

One morning, down a lonely path,
Wandered two friends, Me, and Death,
As soon as the noon light shows,
Death will walk this path alone.
Kalon R Oct 2018
It started as an ache,
An ache that always whispered:
"You'll never belong" but then
It became an obsession
of finding that belonging
but always knowing that I won't.

So what am I to do? A lost American
With generational displacement.
Do I keep searching
or try to find it in her (whoever she is)
or just mask it...
Until I die
Creating my own culture of melancholy
"Maybe home is somewhere I'm going and never been before'
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