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Nidhi Sharan Jul 2
The grandfather clock ticks away! day after day, everyday ,
it doesn't stop to listen to the baby gurgling, or the toddler screaming
indifferent to the many sounds of  angst and ecstasy!

the small hand of the clock controlling every hour of our lives
the big hand, a mere spectator to the brevity of those moments lived
the silent ticking of the pendulum,
  a call to take a second of respite!
from life, from living, from only "just existing"

I did try to stop time once, held the hands of the clock in my own calloused ones
and that is when the Townclock  chimed somewhere, faraway!
Faiza Ayyub Khan May 2019
He wasn't exactly virulent,
nor was he benovalent.
He was always vindicated
which never failed to indicate,
that he was sophisticated.

They said he was a gift taken for granted.
He was free but priceless.
He was what they desired to have
Yet something which made them crave.
It was said he was an illusion.
Which never failed to create confusion.
In the soft &impressionable mind of their's,
They said he seemed limiteless in despair.
But yet was quick in perky affairs.

Once lost he could never be found again.
He was 'time'.

~Faiza Khan
Kewayne Wadley Apr 2019
I chase every second spent without you.
A kiss short and brief
This being the most meaningful time
If but a moment,
Passing by.
Two arms forever lost in a memory.
The stretch of ticking needles.
Tick tock, tick tock I am back in your arms.
Tick tock, tick tock I am back chasing.
An eternity spent in your arms
Seems like a dream
You know why time flies?
Because it never slows to stop.
When time hits you, it does so with a crash.
It hurtles into you with violent awareness.

Time doesn’t crawl.
It doesn’t walk. Or even run.
Time doesn’t unfold methodically, or slowly.
Time is an event. And another.

The arrow of time is a broken spear.
It’s not straight and not constant.
The present announces itself, out of nowhere.
Time is a measure of suddenness.

Time is revelation.
It is darkness speckled with epiphany.  
Time passes only when change happens.
There are no small changes in life.
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Fie Tarp Mar 2019
I miss the place where it all began

A new adventure to conquer
A new environment to explore
A new family to find

The place where I lived my life

I conquered my adventure
I explored the environment
I found my family

A place is now past

The memories from adventures
The smells from environment
The love from family

This was where I belonged...
Missing the good old days
DiverseLiterati Jan 2019
Time helps us grow,
Which lets us know,
About everything good and bad,
Making us feel happy, sad or mad.

Time can allow us to for see,
Where, what and who we want to be.
Time beings about loss,
But heals ours wounds after our falls.

Time finds us kinds of friends,
It determines their stay until our ends.
Time forgives and forgets our sins,
Giving us a chance to eventually have our wins.

Everything is in due time,
Once written in a knowledgeable rhyme.
Time passing is not determined only by the clock's chime,
But by how we use it in our prime.
Please tell me your thoughts
Francesca Nov 2018
It’s just another milestone,
You’re finally sleeping through,
People praise me - it’s a miracle!
I’m lucky to have a baby like you.

But it all just feels so final,
You’re to sleep in your own room,
I cried myself to sleep last night,
Memories of you dancing in my womb,

The empty space beside my bed
was such a shattering blow,
An overwhelming sense of loss
consumed me head to toe,

I sobbed into my pillow,
As your Dada held me tight,
He’s only next door, he whispered,
Let’s see how he sleeps tonight.

At 4am I heard you cry,
I checked to see what’s wrong,
You were sound asleep my dear,
Did I dream it all along?

It’s just another milestone,
I know everything is fine,
But it’s also another reminder,
Of the relentless passing of time.
My baby boy slept in his own room for the first time this week and I didn’t expect to find it so hard!
Arima Mar 2018
I used to overflow,
tumultuous emotions
my eyes,
a steady stream.
my dry eyes,
an abandoned riverbed
hollow memories.
trf Oct 2017
vibrations resonate from the keys
and a rhythmic heart beats all eighty-eight.
those who cannot glean her pleasantries,
adorn snapshots of   SOHO  shopping sprees.

a gleam of light seems dull amongst the coral reefs,
sending shivers up the spine of apathy.
shaping narrow minds and corrupting the weak,
is this vial, verbose and anxious society.

a butter knife has taken the place of my edge,
not sure how to sharpen its fight.
a flutter of  broken wings i've pledged
this blur has delayed my flight.

so i steady my fingers
over both blacks and whites,
and ready libations,
like Goethe's pursuant might,
vibrations do linger with no end in sight,
until my art escapes me, only fluent at night.

we coral reefs need to be saved

redberries Sep 2017
Memories from a lifetime ago
Seems beautiful innocent and happy. 

All I seem to want to do 
Is go back
And hide among the curtains of white sheet.

So familiar 
So sheltered

An urge to flip through photo albums 
Gentle touch on faces that are strange yet peaceful

But it is all gone now 
Like waking up from a dream 
Then given evidence of the once-reality
How am I not to confuse it with a dream 
When all that fell apart 
Was the moment that door slammed shut 

Picture frames on the walls dropped to the ground
Just like how she dropped to the ground 
Leaving two kids standing hand in hand 
despite constant fights the sister has
One clueless on the surface burying it deep
And one helpless heartbroken ever since
With a baby girl weeping from their bedroom

The first betrayal happened 
before the young learnt of all the evils that exists
He too died that moment
From then on they grieved 
The child dont dare ask about the fairytale 
When she saw her empty eyes staring into space

From time to time 
A familiar-faced benefactor come along 
The ghost brought little warmth and support 
“I am turning out fine” she whispered with every step she takes

him - the only confirmation she gets
for her clueless questions about the princess-like life
once upon a time, I was a princess loved by both my parents, my dad especially. I felt like a princess, I lived like a princess, I was treated like a princess. However, the dream gone. Like a page teared from a book. No longer true no longer existing. But only in memories or people walked across from that to this life.
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