"sixtieth" poems
Like a beautiful pink camellia that's how you appear to me
That bloom in chilly August on it's dark green mother tree
So bright and fresh and pretty in the wintery wind and rain
That's how you've always looked to me and that's how you will remain.
The beautiful camellia flower that blooms fresh and young today
In two or three weeks if that long will have gone into decay
For flowers have such a brief span they quickly fade away
But in sixty years of living your beauty with you stay.
I feel privileged and grateful for to have you as a friend
And I will love you and respect you until my life will end
You are warm and kind hearted and well loved and well known
And it's due to you and to you only that into a better person I have grown.
You are wise and quite intelligent and beautiful to behold
And you don't have a gray hair on your head and you never will grow old
And on your sixtieth birthday you still look beautiful to me
Like the young and pretty pink flower on the green camellia tree.
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 6:25 PM UTC
I want to be you
In the holy communal
I want to be you
Suffocated by the plastic bag
I want to be you
Sitting at the top
I want to be you
Head-diving from sixtieth floor
I want to be you
And happy 98th birthday!
I want to be you
Reading this and
I want to be you
Who had half the mind to wonder
If this means anything
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 6:14 AM UTC
Oh my petite,
You're a five-course dinner with the works
and a lovesick tantrum.
Your affection
like a hummingbird,
with how it pecks and pecks and
pecks.
Lips faster than one-sixtieth of a second
when you say
You don't love me anymore
But darling, I've got a
letterbox heart
Iron locks and
Silver casts
Filled with postcards
to no address.
Open me up and find
your name scrawled inside
over and
over
and
over.
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
It felt like the last time that I would ever experience this again
so of course, I missed it before it even ended
My grandfather sat in the passenger seat
saying he hoped he made it to his sixtieth anniversary
no turning back now, dad
said my own father
we won't live forever my grandfather said
my uncle to my right talked of a man freezing himself
he was coerced he was coerced
he told us, as if it was such a bad thing to be frozen
your brain cells multiply though
don't give her any more ideas
star wars got its ideas from star trek
I will never be this young again
I may never hear these words again
It was a nice time though, just to be
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
Sometimes I feel as though time has stopped moving
I know that it never really stops
That time moves as regularly as it can
But
Moments linger
They lag and rip and jostle
Stretch out like taffy in a candy stores window on a boardwalk
They have a tendency to stick around long past the expiration date
I know
Somewhere in the factual portion of my brain
That each second is uniform
One sixtieth of a minute and one thirty-six hundredth of an hour
Exact concrete absolute
Measured just the same
As if I can’t lose everything
In that same second
That was
At one time or another
As uniform and bland as all the others.
Oct 7, 2010
Oct 7, 2010 at 9:27 PM UTC
I woke up on your sixtieth birthday
And realized I’ve been with you
For half your life!
Yet to me it seems sometimes
No more than the blink of an eye,
No more surprising than a sigh.
Yet then, I think of the joy
The kindness and love
You have given me as naturally
As you might breathe.
Then the aching passion that began
Long ago, now burnished with time
Still burns like the fire inside a jewel!
And each day seems like a hundred years
In which I hold you even when you aren’t near.
I would wish for another half of all you are,
But then I realize, that would never
Be enough.
Sep 16, 2021
Sep 16, 2021 at 10:58 AM UTC
This is the five thousand four hundred and sixtieth poem I have written
And I'm not close to done
I'm having too much fun
I can be the daylight under the sun
I write every day to keep my thoughts clear
Many of them are about some sweet dear
But many others are about loneliness and fear
This is not the end
You can achieve this as well
Even when everything is not swell
You must try.
I almost lost all hope in myself before I took up this hobby of mine
I've made best use of my precious time
Being confused on how to rhyme
Instead of who has the best drama
I took up this hobby and never looked back
I became a newbie poet and into today I think I still am
But the point is
I made a commitment
To be a writer
So I made every day a chance to be something greater than before
I don't regret a single second
I'm a published poet
But will I ever be the best?
I don't think I stand a chance
But that's just me talking.
It's really up to the great readers out there to decide.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
B1
Minute
*1. the sixtieth part (1/60) of an hour; sixty seconds.
2. an indefinitely short space of time:
3. an exact point in time; instant; moment* (Dictionary.com)
It feels endless
especially in waiting
Stop lights
Slow walkers
Commercials
5:00 PM
Listening for the phone to ring
Watching for him to walk through the door
over
my
threshold
Forever
Unbearable
Pregnant pauses pull me under
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
Tension high,
the air is saturated with dust and mist
moving about like asteroids in space.
Time is almost up
our once high morale
Gradually drops.
Radiation from Ice,
electrify our veins.
Last drops of adrenaline,
Supplement race in the field.
Hope is swallowed by panic pangs,
the galaxy smiles on the sixtieth second.
Yeah! that last minute.
The metal lands on the pedal with an accuracy like that of the dance of the milky way.
The net is shaken,
not by the winds,
but by a circular ring of fire.....
And it is a goal.
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 11:42 PM UTC