Feliz G Oct 2016
Time moves too slow,
I don't want it that way,
But all I just wait for,
Is a long rest day.
Sem Break is almost over....
SE Reimer Jun 2016
~

think again if you believe
light is but a rapid blur,
consider that the spark
that lives between
two lover-friends, is light
exchanged in slow fashion;
the slow burn of a campfire,
the sparkle of her passion,
the flicker of a candle,
whisperings of the starlight,
the way a moon beam
bends the tides,
and makes her eyes twinkle;
each my confirmation,
of light that moves
so satisfying slow,
allowing flames to ever grow
ever higher, higher,
kindling sparks into a fire,
for love that lasts
is not a spark alone...
no,
love’s passion is a bon fire,
a sunset setting sky aglow;
an ever-building slow,
to effervescent ether;
a gently flowing kiss,
a living, colored tapestry
of drifting twilight mist;
this the speed of light...
my heart’s desire,
mirrored in my lover’s eyes.

~

post script.

love at the speed of sunsets and star gazing;
evenings spent round the campfire
with only the light of the fire,
the stars and that sparkle in each other's eyes...
falling in love, all over again!

Paul Donnell Oct 2014
This night drifts slowly towards the dawn.
Such nights are for slow songs and solitude.
To contemplate; create.
To open hidden doors.
To fill blank pages
With oceans of consciousness.
Andrew Castillo Oct 2010
Where are we now
At a red light
Time passing by
Slow motion now
Everything, a blur

Where should we go
Lost a sense of direction
No compass to guide
Just intuition
Just looking through a mirror
A Saturday, slow and sleepy
Unfolds like old attic linens
And drifts along
Like pipe smoke through the reeds

On a Saturday, bleak and weary
We just can’t get our act together
With hollow talk of book nooks
High seas back road voyages
And pints of Casey’s best bitter

On a Saturday, slow and sleepy
Taking action is hard to do
So slip into a daydream
And meet me out on the fringes
Where the sun and the moon fade from sight
And time is no longer real
Rockie Feb 2015
Clocks;
Ticking

Locks;
Clicking

Advice;
Taken

Leaves;
R­aked

The clocks
Are ticking

Tick, tick, ticking
Your life away

Your fate;
Chosen

Your death;
Imminent

Your breath
Stolen

Your heart rate;
Slowing

Your clock;
Stopping
Hajer Oct 2015
Quietly and alone,
a flower blushes
in the cactus garden.

Viciously and slow,
the flower is pricked
by the venomous spines.
Aaron Campbell Oct 2014
Sometimes you just have to stop and smell the roses,
and if there are no roses find something else to smell.
Life moves to fast; don't take it for granted.
Diseases spread and so do legs.
Both can change lives.
One brings life and
one destroys it.
It's up to you to decide which one is which.
SøułSurvivør May 2015
strong>10W


we
all
fade
into
the
mists
of

our

own
shadow


soulsurvivor
(c) 5/24/2014



Thanks to Benton West for the
inspiration
Just on site a short time.
I want to TRY to get sleep tonight!
Julie Grenness Aug 2016
Here am I, praying for the good,
A sister in God's brotherhood,
God loves us til the end of Earth,
A slow news day, we all deserve,
Humanity needs new policies, rad,
Save us all from anarchy-that's bad,
So, let's all pray for a slow news day,
In the world, let's have amity today,
A sister in God's brotherhood,
Praying for all that's good!
Feedback welcome.
Aya Baker Oct 2013
My mother grew up in a small town
and she married in a small town
and she lived in a small town
and she passed away here.
And our neighbours came with their casseroles
And the florist gave my family her best violets
And there was a discount on the casket.

My sister grew up in a small town
and she married in a small town
and she lived in a small town
And she works at the high school as an English teacher.
And she takes her kids to the park every Saturday,
And her car never uses more than a liter a month
And there is always a booth for her family at Sal's Diner.

My brother grew up in a small town
and he never did marry
but he never did leave.
So now he lives in this small town.
And he only ever takes his job as a deputy seriously
And every Sunday he tends to his geraniums,
And there is never any mail in his mailbox
And his coffee order has always been the same.

I grew up in a small town
and nothing ever changed
and so I left.
And I will never manage to travel to all the bus stops
And my barista never ever remembers my face
And the librarian is stern, always, instead of friendly
And there is never ever a dull moment
In this little world I've created in my big town.
I love Singapore, I do, but I feel trapped here. You could liken it to a small town, I guess.
Next page