"handover" poems
Excuses,excuses,excuses,
I am tired of you lazies,
For once why don't you handover your homework on time,
Thus, make my life devine.
Don't tell me your little sibling tore your homework,
Or you were absent, such bad luck,
Your grandmother spilled tea on your maths sheet,
Here, to give you is not fit.
I am tired of your lame pretexts,
Finish at break,I will be less vexed
What!You finished your homework and you left it at home,
Well, call your mum to bring it when she comes,
I didn't understand the topic, can you please explain,
What were you doing when I went over it again and again?
I started to do my homework when the lights went off,Sir,
Most homes now have inverters
or generators.
I know you find the tasks I give you a bore,
Do you think marking them at home I adore?
So, please help me not to spoil your break or give you detention.
Do your homework on time and with great attention.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 12:01 PM UTC
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Four Irises tall & gallant, looking though
slighted worn out, a tad bedraggled
they are springtime survivor stragglers
of the Great Spring Weather Battle.
living in an open trench, battle conditions,
wind-whipped by constant strong breezes,
raked by intermittent machine gun rain,
familiar weapons of the “handover” season
loyal guardians of their pinpoint position,
remaining on duty, standing at attention,
dignified amidst the serene, nearly summer, now,
accepting quietude & gratitude of surround soundings
arrow-straight, in dress uniforms of royally purple,
four lead a cohort of unbloomed green fellows,
protecting their charge, an ancient marker of time,
rusted-green bronze sundial, symbol of continuity
these four, boon companions to human and animal,
shall persist long after I cease to dabble in this art,
they greet their admirers in full regalia, every year,
long, long may they live, die and be yet reborn!
here, in place, when we arrived four decades ago, a tiny forever,
changelings heading a processional of the summer season,
greeting all with a simple story of constance of change, of beauty,
leading our Summertime Commencement Exercises
May 26 ~ 27, 2023
May 27, 2023
May 27, 2023 at 4:55 PM UTC
With the sun invested in your patience,
You get so cold when you are breaking
So silence and I exchange nonsensical chats
as silence waits to draw the curtains
and I wait for you to handover your ache
to my extended hand
Oct 1, 2021
Oct 1, 2021 at 12:06 PM UTC
The skies hung heavy and black,
casting a somber mood over the world below.
It was as if the heavens themselves were
burdened with the weight of yesterday's sorrows.
The fields, once vibrant and alive, now wore a grey smile,
a reflection of the tears shed in days gone by.
As night fell, the symphony of crickets filled the air,
their chorus echoing through the stillness.
It was a quiet night, interrupted only by the
gentle handover of the sun to the moon.
The air carried a pleasant scent of dew, a reminder
of the rest that awaited all living things.
And amidst it all, the tiny footsteps of rain danced
upon the asbestos roofing, a thief of nature sneaking
into the sounds of peace.
In the midst of this atmospheric symphony,
a wooden kitchen door ticked with the passage of time.
It creaked open and closed, its rusted iron hinges
adding to the melody.
The door seemed hinged in thought,
attached by fears and darkness.
It formed a latch, and night became its key,
locking away the light and welcoming the shadows.
As I stood there, my feet grew cold,
chilled by the ice-like glass of my fragile character.
A towel hung limply from the handle of the cupboard,
a silent witness to my dry mouth and the skeletons
of my past that haunted me, beyond my control.
But amidst the darkness, comfort found
its way to my side, persistently offering solace.
It was a visitor, never truly staying,
but always there when I needed it.
In my mind, I set up a spare room,
a sanctuary for fleeting moments of respite.
And in those rare moments, a sparing thought
would gently grace my mind, offering a glimmer of hope.
Yet, even in the midst of this fragile peace,
a shadow lurked behind me.
She knew my name, intimately aware of
the battles I fought within myself.
The empty room, once a sanctuary, grew heavy
with the weight of my inner demons.
Like a fallen angel, I descended into the depths
of my own despair, the falling rain mirroring
the tears that stained my soul.
And in a whisper, a secret was revealed in my ear:
depression, depression, depression.
And so, my depressing thoughts found me once again,
enveloping me in their suffocating embrace.
The world around me faded into the background
as I became lost in the labyrinth of my own mind.
Oct 21, 2023
Oct 21, 2023 at 1:58 PM UTC
We are like the horizon of the sky
We merge into the same colour
And hear everywhere the flutter
I am chasing you as the wind is chasing the clouds
The clouds and my words stir up and paint the sky
Wish the sunset could stay a little more
Till my sorrows turn into silk
Till I get enough of that moment
The birds go back singing to trees
My soul goes wandering in the breeze
I'll stay here till the moon appears
So I can handover him all my fears
I won't let this evening go hopeless
For I have a lot to confess.
May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 11:46 AM UTC
*
Judas was one among the twelve,
to whom Jesus poured his true love;
Offer fixed for thirty silver coins;
High priest's plot to handover wins
Jesus is still around, under betray;
Judas, again survive with cash tray.
*
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
[email protected]
www.williamsji.com
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 2:34 AM UTC
I can insult you I can abuse you but I don't want to lose you
You are part of my heart without heart body is just nothing
We are on a ship and by seniority I am commander of crew
I have steered ship through many odds let me share feeling
But now my son I have gone old and am ill to move further
So I hereby nominate you to be the commander in the future
Now my body is so weak my heart is to stop my vision is blur
Being son of a soldier, son I want to embellish values ,culture
Let me handover to you command of the ship as successor
Please make the unit strong so that you can win over all odds
You have to be meticulous and exercise more patience in anger
My soul will be in solace when you will take care of my wards
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 6:48 AM UTC
Once upon a time,
a Doctor was famous
by seeing a pregnant woman
determine the *** of the child
patience are very happy
the day has come to handover
to his son the precious
art of prediction..
though the son was brilliant
he has not learned the art.
father called son gave a secret..
Tell,
what ever you want
If you say 'boy" then in front of them
write 'girl' in your register
..................
if they didn't, you are Right
If they come back to prove you Wrong
then…
show the register..
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
Where do I end and you begin?
The line in between is quite thin
Who divided 'us' into 'you' and 'me'
How different are he and she?
Zero creations from me so far
Can't attach my name to any star
No flower blossoms because of me
The sun always rises despite me
Our world is made up of walls
Every day humanity falls
A creator I think I am
It all looks a sham...
Me, my home, the world to me
Does it need a boundary, to be
Do my edges shape me?
Or without them I could still be?
Taking the baton from the past
The present just a moment does last
It dashes to handover to tomorrow
Missing it is my biggest sorrow
Why should my walls define me
Much beyond them I could be
Will 'I' not still be here
Scaling beyond them - death and despair
We divide just to define
Can't the process we refine
We fragment rather than create
Can we start with a fresh slate?
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 10:21 AM UTC
Awake at 0415
Sleep still in my eyes
Bundle up crib
**** and a ****
Shave clean
Coffee on the boil
Then, on the road.
Lit ciggy
Volume still up from last night
Knock it down a notch
Until the ears can focus...
Swipe on, turnstile spins
Follow in suit
Say g'day to nightshift
As the hi-vis is donned
PPE all strapped on
Steel capped **** kickers
Helmet slap, follow the crowd
To prestart.
Sit and nod, coffee lukewarm
Handover from nights
Sign on lads and ladies
Lock on, work instruction, THA
We are all dressed the same
The same team
With the same goal
To go home...
We don't know how it all works
In our silo, doing our bit
For our 12 hour stint
For 7 days.
Just before 6
With our bodies worn and ready
For a quiet bevvy
With mates we made at work
Swipe off, turnstile spins
Say g'day to nightshift
It'll be our turn next swing
Top job, had a win.
Microwave feed
Boots at the door
TV just for the noise
Stare at the phone
They ring before bed
Let it ring out
How was your day?
Same as every other, don't bother.
Asleep before head hits pilla
Awake at 0415
Sep 6, 2022
Sep 6, 2022 at 9:11 PM UTC
It's lmost eight (8pm),
And as usual you are late,
Am sitting outside waiting for you,
It's drizzling like the morning dew,
Cool breeze, swaying trees, mind locked,
On some memories that shocked,
Remembering the incidents of your change,
Stepping away and ruling out a range,
I wonder what has come in between,
You always treated me like your queen,
Now you come home late to avoid our talks,
Often quite not even interested in evening walks,
I feel alone, distant and neglected,
It doesn't matter cause you have selected,
A new toy for your entertainment,
Little do you know that its affecting our commitment,
It's okay I have made a decision to let you go,
For your life is no longer meant for me so,
Tonight am waiting for you, to handover,
All you gave and say that it's over,
If ever he might need me back,
He would understand and track,
The reasons that drew me out from his life,
As of now, he would no longer have me as his wife...
©sim
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 2:21 PM UTC
I see the man
who is still my husband
many of the days.
Handover of children,
he looks so withdrawn.
He is hating on me
he looks to be suffering
I had to break free.
When we were together
nothing fulfilled him
or the hole in his soul.
I turned circus tricks
Look at that, look at this!
But any joy poured in
disappeared, black abyss.
I almost did too.
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 5:17 AM UTC
Yes, we know there are wars
While the cost of living soars
We know there are scandals
About the political shambles
But…why aren’t we talking about climate?
We know about inflation
And the economy’s grim destination
We know about Brexit
And the gossip about Megxit
But…why aren’t we talking about climate?
We see petrol costs rise
And dwindling supplies
The poor have got poorer
Our children insecurer
So, why aren’t we talking about climate?
Our home is the earth
Where all mothers give birth
And all the earth gives
Enables each human to live
So, why aren’t we talking about climate?
News stories mean nothing
If the planet is boiling
1.5 draws near
Our future unclear
So, why aren’t we talking about climate?
There still is some hope
If people take note
And demand of Earth’s leaders
That immediate change that is needed
So, let’s make sure that they also talk about climate
Please sign and share this petition - at 100,000 signatures the Government will be required to debate this issue and maybe the UK can do something special before we handover our COP responsibility. Thank you very much! https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/615537
Jul 22, 2022
Jul 22, 2022 at 3:43 AM UTC
**a meeting
of two chemicals
a fine reaction
both are transformed
and a baby
handover an appointment letter
to be father and mother..**
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 4:00 AM UTC
Dear Mr Rocky,
It's not that I wanna let you go
But I think this is the best time
For me to handover you
To somebody else.
It's not that I love you no more
I love you still, you will have my heart
Wherever you go.
You've been with me during ups and downs
You were literally with me.
You heard me laugh
You saw me cry and scream
And you've been hearing
All my nonsense talking,
Cursing the reckless drivers,
Like for everyday??.
I'm sorry.
But whatever you've heard,
Pls keep it as a secret okay?.
Thanks for being a good listener.
I love you. Forever will.
You're my first car that I afford to have.
Be good to your new driver.
So-called "new owner".
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 8:30 AM UTC
A sum total of immediate family gathered
at a seaside Italian cafe
half loving getting time together
half dreading the weight of the urn
taking turns to tickle flippancy
in an honoured tradition of laughing
in the face of the massive horrors of life,
scales on the crusty familial armadillo
It’s time
Each step beyond the coffee steam
feels further into foreign territory
where defences weaken
even though the climb is sweet
we walk up a hill to reveal a familiar vista
that youth ignored huffily, heartily
and adulthood yearns for,
where memories pepper current steps
The humour shield holds until the ash is cast
when my throat clutches to swallow
knowing that my reasoning can’t break this,
even though you’d wipe it away
You aren’t allowed to soothe these tears,
they serve for the years and years,
pay pennies into arcade machines
and buy novelty rock never eaten
The bedrock and foundation of us
stands on this sometimes sunny head
holding hard to the ropes and lines
until the next handover
May 21, 2020
May 21, 2020 at 12:05 PM UTC