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Nylee Aug 12
it was always this
a routine
it could have been different
but it is in line
going out of line
the usual unusual design
the impending death of routine
the beginning of the changing times.

some days you start
with a want of change,
but the change
changes you in so many ways,
it has its consequences,
constantly changing,
no matter what
and you are stuck in the routine
resist it even if it is a good thing
but mostly it is bad
rarely it never is.

known problems
follows a routine
but unknown
it is a pandora's box
you never know
the enlisted
routine to follow ahead
tweaks and tricks
and, back to the road.

it challenges you
changing your views
doesn't listen to you
you don't know
who to turn to
it is so out of
comfort zone.

I know it is imminent
the make and break of routine
I am rarely going to pass my years
just like this
inside my bedroom
with the closed doors.

It is happening
I cannot follow my previous year routine,
talking to same five people I have known
you have replaced me from your routine,
It is changing, I am changing
so are you
You don't need me the way I do.
Kairosclere Jun 11
There's so much I want to do, almost infinite time, the right resources and a hundred ways. 

There's so much I wished I could do, but what are wishes, without a will?
Connect to me
Via Instagram @_kairosclere_
Via email
On Pinterest  @_kairosclere_
On hello poetry at
And my blog

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Thank you for reading <3
You put my faith to the test
In such torturous ways
Why can't you let me rest
And reassure me you'll stay?
Love comes at us at different times, from different directions. In a parking lot of a hospital. Two cars parked side by side. A woman and a man  both entering their cars at the same time. The man says, "You are beautiful." The woman walks around the end of her car, smiling. The man says " I said that to you because it is true." "I'm in my early 40s," she says. The man replies, " When a woman is beautiful, which you are, age flies out the window." The woman smiles even more. Then man gets into his car and drives away. The woman will never forget this exchange.

Copyright Tod Howard Hawks
A graduate of Andover and Columbia College, Columbia University, Tod Howard Hawks has been a poet, a novelist, and a human-rights advocate his entire adult life.
Donna May 12
Hair going grey , job
on hold , missing my daughter
Today I’m baking

Not much else to do but to cook , miss my daughter so much , miss my new job was only there for 8 days when the virus struck , i work with schools so most prob won’t be going back for some time yet , so baking it is for now going to attempt an old school sponge icing sprinkle cake **
Take care be stay ** 💕
You know you had the one, She tamed your soul

You could speak in thousands of silent ways

She could find you in those small moments in between

She moved you without taking a step

She was a road to love and would have been home

Now we have lost our way
She was all I needed I was a match my other half, but she was poison, her dysfunction mingled with mine is strange ways
Lucas Scott Jan 13

I celebrate my pants, and sing my pants,
And what I wear you shall wear,
For every thread belonging to me as good belongs to you.


I saw the best pants of my generation destroyed by madness, bleaching faded skinny,
dragging themselves through the crowded malls at noon looking for the perfect selfie,
man-bunned hipsters burning for the contemporary digital connection to the social dynamo in the machinery of online relevance


Let us go Pants, you and I,
With evening wash spread out against the sky
Like a ghost dancing upon the breeze;
Let us go, through certain half-full baskets,
The smelly caskets
Of unwashed trousers from one-week neglected hampers.


Something there is that doesn't love my pants,
That sends the frayed-torn-cuffs under it,
And spills my muffin top in the sun;
And makes love handles even two can hold to love.


I have stolen
the pants
that were in
the dressing room

and which
you were probably
for a party

Forgive me
they were comfy
so soft
and so stylish


Because I could not fit my Pants –
I kindly split the Seam –
The Problem is quite obvious –
I need some stronger Jeans.


The patterns on your pants   
Could make a designer cry;   
But I hung on to your stance:   
Plaid boldly with tie-dye.


Call the maker of big pants,
The fabulous one, and bid him zip
In seamstress studs sumptuous sewing.


What happens to lost pants?

      Do they stiffen up
      like paper as it dries?
      Or do they balloon up —
      and into the sky rise?


I bought some tremendous pants
and held them beside the cart
half off the hanger, with the hook
fast in the belt loop around the waist.
There was no fight.
No one had fought at all.
They hung a defeated weight,
overlooked and spurned.
Ziya mansoor Jul 2019
On a blazing day
with brand new thought
But found that
the heart which was like an flying bird
which used to travel without tickets
and used to think whatever it needed
but now ...
it was blank
it didn't go anywhere

it didn't think anything
it was blank

Don't know why
Don't know what

I walked there and here
towards the stoop
in one way I was alone and behind
from the world
in another way I was along and infront
of the world

I took a second
To open and close my eyes
the heart which was blot out
as a  new balloon
was now blown
and filled
with new ideas and thoughts

At times a second can give a second chance
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