#minutes
Sit…
but don’t get comfortable
five minutes is all I can survive of you.
Poetry does not need more
to lose itself
to spin like a drunken dervish
until the world slips off its axis.
Five minutes…
to press against the naked body of the page,
to leave a mark
that won’t heal clean.
So come closer
Love me in fragments of time,
in breaths that almost burn,
in that quiet place
where touch becomes confession.
Let your presence lean into mine
just enough
to disturb the silence beneath my skin.
Then go
Disappear
like something forbidden,
like a sin that refuses to stay
but never really leaves.
Don’t linger…
you’ll ruin it.
I don’t need eternity
eternity is for cowards
who fear the violence of moments.
Give me instead
your nearness…
sharp, fleeting,
dangerously unfinished.
Because I carry in my pocket
a small, innocent matchbox
and with one strike
of you against me,
I can set
entire worlds
on fire.
May 2
May 2, 2026 at 1:15 AM UTC
Seven minutes left—
you feel it before you understand it.
Something in your chest goes wrong,
like a switch that won’t flip back.
Six minutes—
your breath turns thin and uneven.
Air comes in pieces.
You try to fix it. You can’t.
Five minutes—
panic sets in hard.
Your heart hammers like it’s trying to escape.
You think of calling someone,
but your hands won’t listen.
Four minutes—
your body is louder than your thoughts now.
Pain, pressure, heat—
all of it piling up at once.
You realize this is actually happening.
Three minutes—
you don’t think about your whole life.
Just flashes—
a face, a voice,
something you should’ve said.
Two minutes—
your strength leaves fast.
The room feels far away.
You’re still here,
but barely holding on.
One minute—
you stop fighting as hard.
Not by choice.
You just can’t keep it up.
Then—
nothing heroic, nothing poetic.
Just a final breath
that doesn’t come back.
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 4:21 PM UTC
The restraints of school can feel like jail,
there’s a mundanity to it.
I must plan my week’s every minute,
like God must have arranged atoms.
It’s the art of the small things,
where some minutes seem shorter than others
like atoms making different things
School is vibrant, intellectually stimulating
and stuffed, like a turkey, with a catalogue of
specific ideas that are new to me.
So I study them until, like an actor, I can recite them
as if on stage. But if a quiz is going to be ‘open notes,’
then it’s going to be an exacting *****
And then there’s the waiting for outcomes (grades)
But I’m one of those girls
who sings shower songs
so bring it on.
.
.
A song for this:
Teddy Jam by guy
Jan 17
Jan 17, 2026 at 12:03 PM UTC
The day drags on
minuets seem like hours
hours seem like days
time has slowed to a halt
fading
in and out
out and in
never standing still
fast and then slow
this Monday
is oh so incredibly slow
its just
S O
V E R R Y
S L O W
Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 11:48 AM UTC
it feels like time is -
frozen.
maybe like im too slow
to count the seconds,
the minutes,
the hours.
maybe im not meant to.
it just feels like..
im too fast.
like i need to stop.
it feels like time is -
standing still.
maybe like im too slow
to count the seconds,
the minutes,
the hours.
Dec 1, 2025
Dec 1, 2025 at 7:54 PM UTC
Punctuality is the thief of time,
and I don’t want to be wasting yours or mine.
You found inspiration within the sky,
just like the concept of the magic eye;
are they in waves or in a line?
So tell me what do you see,
is it perfection or impurity?
Forever stretching endlessly,
until it reaches the point of eternity.
Time is a rubber band that I’ve misplaced,
amongst the memories that have been erased.
Legend has it that might snap back
or the universe could just turn to black,
for neither have I braced.
So tell me what do you see,
besides a world beyond you and me.
Life of kindness or cruelty?
Stretching out to infinity.
Bury me alive, in an hour glass
with the sand of time; time that will too pass.
Turn it upside down and restart the hour,
each grain will still fall down, and each one will hold more power.
As they count down to midnight,
both the glass and the room seems airtight.
But I respect the clock
more than the watch.
At least the clock can face me.
To both I’ll still throw a rock,
make sure they both become botch,
it doesn’t matter time will still chase me.
No escaping.
Oct 20, 2025
Oct 20, 2025 at 2:17 PM UTC
Recently “minutes” or recently “hours”?
Recently, minutes were reasonably ours.
Like how I “recently” saw him at the grocery store,
And “recently” went back, hoping I might again.
Sure, we spoke…
Recently.
So I logged on, recently,
Just to see what’s up.
That’s how it always is,
And the status is always the same:
“Recently”
May 11, 2023
May 11, 2023 at 6:26 PM UTC
First Date
We promised a beach trip to each other
I count down the days, hours, and minutes
Til my release into your arms.
Sep 20, 2021
Sep 20, 2021 at 8:05 PM UTC
It seems so wasted
Time
Spent sad angry isolated
Minutes
Lost never to be found again
Hours
Gone spent regretting
Days
Empty no memories made
Years
Only wishing we could go back to the first seconds of that day
Jul 14, 2021
Jul 14, 2021 at 10:35 PM UTC
the minutes roll past her like tumbleweeds
as her eyes meet the melting, setting sun.
but in the blink of an eye, the night falls
and the hour wraps its arms around her,
keeping her warm and safe in time's embrace.
Apr 24, 2021
Apr 24, 2021 at 12:05 AM UTC
let's play a game
you and i
stare in silence
while locking eyes
nervous and quite shy
turned into big smiles
then quiet laughter
still looking intently all the while
every second passing
and strings started to exist
attaching and latching
knots tying in twists
electricity started flowing
unseen but a rushing feel
back and forth
a connection -- is this becoming real?
in that short time
i started to imagine
me leaning in to kiss you
and I almost let it happen
three hundred seconds is up
and i tried to explain
but i couldn't tell you everything
that was going on in my brain
so i told you i feel closer to you
without saying anything more
didn't want you to know
it was you i was longing for.
Mar 30, 2021
Mar 30, 2021 at 6:10 PM UTC
The seconds, minutes, hours pass by.
And yet, after all this time,
I can't help but sit back and wonder...
"Why?"
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 7:13 PM UTC
If a picture's worth a thousand words,
What's a life worth?
It's crazy to think that life can be lived
A million different ways when,
at most, we'll only see 36,500 days.
Especially these days, people worry
They don't have time to figure out
How to do, how to say something meaningful.
So think about it like this:
You may only have 36,500 days, 100 years. But it doesn't take days or years
To make a difference.
It only takes a minute.
And EVERY YEAR, you get 525,600 of them. 525,600 chances to change.
Feb 13, 2021
Feb 13, 2021 at 7:18 PM UTC
It's 7:17am
and I haven't slept
I've been playing chess
and watching videos about people
probably perceived as less fortunate
one man had a condition from birth
that left him without cheek bones
and his parents rejected him
after 36 hours in the hospital
when he was growing up he worried
"I thought I'd never be intimate with anyone."
he explained and went on to mention
that he hated being stared at
he recalled his first love
her name was Beth
she wore skinny jeans and liked the same music
and eventually left
I felt the pain he felt at reading his adoption notes
how his parents were horrified by his appearance
and felt no maternal or paternal connection to him
when he was just a little bundle of love
I almost shed a tear myself
when he told of the time he wrote to his parents
then in his 20's he felt it was time
they replied with a letter
that said they did not want to hear from him
and that any future attempts to make contact
will be ignored entirely
Feb 12, 2021
Feb 12, 2021 at 2:49 AM UTC
Virgo in the ascendant,
Saturn in decline,
A retrograding antidote,
A calculated rhyme;
Overtones of melancholy,
Undertones of mirth,
A surfeit of misfortune,
Of musery a dearth
Faithless Fortune taps her foot,
While plotting my demise,
A rhythm most unruly,
A metaphor unwise;
In minutes and in seconds,
She wreaks havoc on my pen,
A glib faux pas, no coup de grâce...
And so I start again.
§
_My zodiacal tendencies,
Triumphant in their prime,
Fade to skepticism
As life spins on a dime._
Nov 11, 2021
Nov 11, 2021 at 2:22 PM UTC
How do I turn the years around?
Still can't find the lever
Why can I not face reality?
Give up this idea of forever
Balance breaking around you
I can't let go and be free
None of this nonsense will regain time lost
It's like you are unable to see
There are way too many bad decisions
I'm trapped by remorse for all
Know I should forgive and forget
I guess my heart is too small
What happened to trusting nature?
When did life stop feeling good?
Can't keep living a comparison
To where I once gladly stood
So I try to focus on the future
You promise not to forget the past
Try to leave regrets behind
Hold me because the minutes fly too fast
Nov 23, 2020
Nov 23, 2020 at 5:44 AM UTC
We were once better together
When we were madly in love
All we have are broken dreams
Memories of what this once was
At night visit photo reels
Happiness left in the past
I was a citizen of your world
Instead of immigrant trespassed
Toss and turn in twisted torn sheets
Up late because I can
Don't sleep next to eachother
Holding grudges with gentle hands
We used to share same mattress
And blankets as well
Awake to face every morning
No reason to argue or yell
Into memories I retreat
With no success
Sound of your laughter a mocking song
And half-hearted at best
The day we promised to always be
Friends no matter what
Forever lingers on my heart
Perfectly etched with sharp cuts
The way you looked at me stayed different
Tone of your voice when you'd say my name
From touch to your kiss to everything in between
Only blue eyes remained the same
Our soft skin no longer free of marks
Nowhere near as fit
Smiles on rosy cheeks
Naive and unaware of the coming ********
Back then conversation was not forced
Felt comfortable baring our hearts
These days hardly speak to eachother
Were much happier at the start
And darkness fuels nostalgia
Resurfaces in its daily routine
Screaming when exactly and where along the way
Did you start forcing what you mean?
I miss the couple we were
Passion without the pain
When your heart was still golden
I wasn't half-insane
Hours and minutes spent in a hurry
And cigarette packs
Problems that seemed so significant
Give anything to have all of that back
Nov 16, 2020
Nov 16, 2020 at 6:30 PM UTC
Doodling out the hours
And minutes
Become tiny emojis
Criss-cross, half-finished
Tic tac toe games
And I feel lost
Each box a reminder
Of these quarantine
Afternoons, and your name
Is always on my lips
Along with the words
I miss you
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 11:08 PM UTC
Just because the world changes
Every day, hour, minute, and second,
Doesn't mean you have to.
But, then again,
Maybe that's exactly why you should.
Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 7:42 PM UTC
Sand and oh it’s fall, your formation and mine relate after all!
As the time drifts down
It’s echo swifts round shedding old for the new, yet envisioned my days blue
Scintillating hours, despising what was yours
To making it all mine for “dissolved ME ” could again shine
All those mystical minutes made out of fallen sand hath landed uncharily out of my close clenched hand
I collect all of you here in the bulb of one section, its all together yet seems like it has lost its direction
Witnessed sand falls united at the apex, if this is the sweetest testimony
You and I never blend together is the bitterest baloney
Sand and oh it’s fall, your formation and mine relate after all!
Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 3:38 AM UTC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
that which used to take ten minutes
now takes an hour or
two
something's that used to take an hour or
two,
now take ten minutes, give or
take,
(mostly I do the taking)
(or as the little voice whispers, the mostly
faking)
betcha you'd like to which is what
and what is which being bewitched,
I ain't spilling no beans
cause I value my insanity's privacy,
and I don't got to give that up just yet
but if you want the worst of what little I got left,
unhappily I will approach the old muse
begging me giving me something to use,
bad she turns away bad she say
*"You all tricked out,
you wares worn,
ye old styles from yester last month
you been styled by
H&M;
30 days max,
then
ring in the new, and if all sold,
or none-at-all,
too bad for you*
then you gotta decide:
wear a watch
or watch the wearing
with small
pleasures sighed,
confirming, night-moves,
gonna
Keep On Keeping On
Living
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 2:31 AM UTC
the wind is always cold
you look over the edge
drop slowly
your mouth chews out vowels and they resemble minutes
end-over-end crowds lost among your breaths
you dissolve and ask me to think of a place
with no points in the sky
May 15, 2020
May 15, 2020 at 6:05 PM UTC
The Cost
“5 minutes to write, 5 minutes to edit and 10 more to cease weeping,”
when the inquiry arrives, how long/where from it comes,
gave this answer
more or less the response accurate
more or less the weeping really never ceases
I will return to it again, **** poem
random when, unreasoned why, wherefore
a stumble, a message, months from now, tomorrow,
even decades and I’ll remember the precise circumstances
for each poem has a Cost, that excises a piece of you, a new cut,
freshly salted, an antibiotic of loving may remove the
redness, but not the white line, so what you call a scar, I,
I call it an etched memory preserved
the sum of all These Costs, all these memories,
cumulative, additive, addictive - someone says:
stop being so sensitive, leave the telling to others,
or keep them in plastic bags, dated, retrievable,
in case an antiretroviral antidote is ever needed,
a fresh injection when you think you could even
cease to care
The Cost is always capitalized, for the Cost is called human capital,
the invisible financing that permits our existence till all spent,
when we’ve run out of drawer space, zipper bags,
breaths to be taken away and glass jars to store them,
if the mind says no more! then it will be ok,
for you are all spent
The Cost so great! this a double entendre,
for they are the stuff of me, whatever greatnesses
I ever possessed within them kept and believed,
happily paid for past and present, for the future,
will happily pay for it right now, again and again,
for the Costs are who I am, till, such time that
Costless arrives, eyes closed, nothing left to post,
to recall, no coin to give, my purposed all paid,
as if all paid could ever cause my weeping to cease
Mon May 4
10:48 am
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 3:11 PM UTC
I know it's a difficult time,
Understand that you are characteristic
And so on -
- Despite being characteristically
You are still excellent ...
As for my current mood,
It is very similar to the last minutes of the apocalypse
Feel the love.
Mar 28, 2020
Mar 28, 2020 at 4:43 PM UTC
The Watch
by Michael R. Burch
Moonlight spills
down vacant sills,
illuminates an empty bed.
Dreams lie in crates.
One hand creates
wan silver circles, left unread
by its companion—unmoved now
by anything that lies ahead.
I watch the minutes
test the limits
of ornamental movement here,
where once another
hand would hover.
Each circuit—incomplete. So dear,
so precious, so precise, the touch
of hands that wait, yet ask so much.
Published by The Lyric, Carnelian, Net Poetry and Art Competition, Poetry on Demand, Famous Poets and Poems, ImageNation (UK). Keywords/Tags: watch, hands, watching, time, movement, circles, cycles, circuits, minutes, limits, wait, waiting, death, incomplete, reunion, companion, ahead, night, bed, moonlight, crates
Mar 23, 2020
Mar 23, 2020 at 11:09 PM UTC