Poetry Time Poems

These Poetry Time poems are examples of Poetry poems about Time. These are the best examples of Poetry Time poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Quatrain |
An ancient river, centuries-old shops and restaurants steeped in a 2000-year history and 
culture set the scene. The ambiance seemed divinely contrived to facilitate the purposes of 
our meeting and the very fodder from which the greatest poets are sustained.
Not newcomers to the area, Kay P. and I were assigned to the Army Security Agency Field 
Station in Augsburg, Germany in 1974. We were colleagues in the intelligence community 
with no romantic overtures to our relationship, save an appreciation of poetry and profound 
philosophical discussions. Kay wanted to spend the evening with a poet, so we planned the 
evening to be appropriate for the purpose. 
At the time and place, we quickly found ourselves hopelessly immersed in the philosophical 
foundations of my writings throughout the evening. It was the first time since Vietnam that 
I'd felt worthy as a person. I still recall sipping the red wine and feeling the warmth of the 
large hearth inside the Balkan eatery. I still see the swans gliding by on the Lech flowing by 
our café.

When windowpanes begin to weep with autumn's chilly dew, I'm taken back through seasons passed to one delight held true, A rendezvous that time allowed, a gentle evening spent Amid a time of long discord when days were dreary bent. I feel the stretch upon my lips, the smile returns once more. Again, I smell the Balkan fare prepared on Lech's old shore, The mood is cast in high regard, the wine is tart and dry, As Augsburg ripples in the wake when swans go gliding by. The ancient windows frame our view and day begins to wane As rivulets meander down and streak the dampened panes. The ambiance of ages passed beseeched us not to leave And held us in its warm embrace throughout the ebbing eve. My heart was scarred, without regard and hardened by the war But her esteem unveiled its worth, while nothing had before. She saw the child that once was me, I'd long since cast aside, And bade he climb astride his mount, engage his life and ride. Now, she is but a memory, whose kindness soothed my heart, For we embarked upon our lives on paths ordained to part. Her subtle way escaped my eye till time had made it clear That her esteem had set me free, that night I hold so dear. The poetry that filled my soul remains these many years, Impassioned in my warmest thoughts when autumn first appears, When windowpanes begin to weep, a-glisten with the dew, And I return to seasons passed, to one delight held true.

Copyright © Jim Fish | Year Posted 2009




Details | Light Poetry |

As this week closes into hours of pewter night may the moonlight touch your lips while I sleep in the arms of dreams unrefined. Though I may not be with you on misty evenings caved by my pride, but think of me as I send you this whispering sigh of an embrace feathered by the sky... I humble myself in your presence not, but, wait for me to disrobe this façade, while you can, then… Remember days like other days when the roof of blank shades begin to unwrap this cloistered body hidden in a pile of sawdust still reeling like a glistened dragonfly. The light bulbs of time's avenues are streaked with marquees of a name where the lattice of my wishes climb into a garden of your moistened eyes so green. Enter the 100 in a ROW contest #2 Contest Sponsor: PD Linda 7/6/2016

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
Staying near to light my way
     now that there is no more day
You're needed to so brightly burn
     before to black ashes you return
Flames dance high upon your wick
     and fall across the well-worn brick
Like those flames once in the hearth
     when you go out there is no rebirth
My mind alight with persistent thought
     beaming from an inspiration caught
In ink my quill takes another dip
     my eyes watch your melting wax drip
Furiously now my script does flow
     to finish the lines before out you go
I can do no more, there is no time
     my slowing pen can no longer rhyme
The ink still wet, not even dry
     as your glow continues to die
Words on the page begin to fade
     while creeping darkness starts to shade
Wax and ink overtaken by night
     and devours all your candle's light.



Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2016




Details | Rhyme |
Too hard for me to say goodbye
For all apparent reasons why
Even though we all know it must be
Each heart will someday stop the beat
When the rhythm of life, and silence, finally meet
.
Yet I always seem so surprised 
To find that death is part of life 
Knowing that regret, will now haunt my every rhyme 
The specter called "if only", will inhabit every line.
Wish I could arbitrate a deal to have gained a little time
Just one more talk with Sissy, to ease my guilty mind. 
.
And the sun now sets on my regrets
I gamble on time and lose each bet
Thinking I'll move on and yet, 
here I set . . .
Wishing for one more time 
One more pun
One more smile 
That will never come 
.
If I could just recall the things you said that mattered to you most.
Memories un memorized
That now I'll never know
Years of conversation when I didn't pay attention
Times I should have said I love you 
And somehow failed to mention
.
Then when you tried to tell me you felt your time was drawing near
Your selfish little brother pretended not to hear.
Even when you did your best,  and tried to let me know
You'd made your peace and you were ready, and that for you . . . 
It was simply time to go

Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
The name's Ike.
Some a ya might a met me before,
in my very first write,
and knew me as the stalker with the walker.
"Retired Romance" was the name,
Spoke about meetin' my wife,
She's here with me, name is Jane.
I likes ta call her the Mrs.,
cause I never thought that would happen again.
Now she like ta near smother me with kisses,
but gives me room ta write now and then.
We had us one of them honeymoons,
she says it ain't over yet.
But dang, if'n it ain't over soon,
we'll have ta call me in a vet!

Ennyways, I wanted ta give y'all a heads up
that I'll be a writin' from time to time .
We'd like ta thank y'all for the nice thumbs up,
'bout our first little Retired Romance rhyme,
and let y'all know that me and the Mrs. .. well..
.                                                  ..we doin' just fine !
.                  "Nite nite darlin."

Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne | Year Posted 2009

Details | Prose Poetry |
He's infuriatingly...

pretty...

and I follow myself over his smile to find my eyes, promising uncertainty and chewing on
my bottom lip with the hunger that resides in...

love...

He rolled me over and kissed my dreams, his mouth became my salvation and I nailed myself
to the bedpost as we made love, my legs became morning while I screamed midnight to the
dawn...

and I had never seen such a beautiful sunrise, I had never seen the beginning color herself so
strangely...

I told him, as our eyes appeared shallow, as the light dimmed and he breathed summer on my
neck...

“Blue is blue, Dear, don't try to shade it with red.”

But he explained to me the art of bruises, he informed me the results were beautiful, and
he held up a mirror to my unmarked skin, places where the black and blue and...

purple...

has dissipated...

while he sheltered my chest with his hand, covering my heart with his palm, and told me
the results still beat...

in.me.

I cried, tears of the rain that once fell in April, and he held me, time slipping between
us, beads of sweat that spoke eternity and seven more months, and I spoke silently so he
could hear me, I whispered his name...

“God, you're beautiful,” he said on the second I realized the sadness had left me, that
she had found content and was studying the games we never played with the fascination of a
child, I touched his cheek with the surreal movements that occur when one has fallen and
been caught and smiled at the thought of us...

I sacrificed my pain that night, I handed it straight over to midnight when the day broke,
I blended the sunrise with blue and watched the sky turn purple with him right beside me,
I counted the minutes to eternity and he laughed at my obsessions as he told me I was...

beautiful...

as he drank my belief off my left shoulder with a kiss...

and I looked at him, in the light, my eyes deep with the memories of the sea, as I kissed
him, with a certainty I never questioned as tomorrow started forever...

and he would live inside me
for seven
more
months.



Copyright © JeanMarie Marchese | Year Posted 2007

Details | Light Poetry |
As I contemplate life
Through thick lenses glasses of the whiskey bottle
Is there life?
What is life, what is the lie, or even the truth?
Or is there only the journey to darkness
If so, why not buy a first class ticket
To the black hole of the universe
There in death, I can sit
In peace
Dreaming of the rebirth of atoms and molecules

Then, I ponder some more
I remember years ago
Holding a soda pop bottle
I just couldn’t discard
Somehow I was happy
He was my invisible friend
We sure had adventures
Nighttime I was safe
He would guard the window
Be would both gaze at the stars
I would talk and he sure knew how to listen
These memories bring me smiles even now

Is the universe that strange?
Are we all related so, objects, minds and souls?
All I know, is maybe I better stick around
Have a soda
Savoring my youthful days
When all my friends came around to play
Yelling Ricky, come on out, it’s a beautiful day!
Baseball was always fun back then
I always had my soda pop bottle in my bag
Surrounded by friends and so so content

As I contemplate life
I am somewhat amazed
That the ghost from the Christmas past
Is no illusions after all
Chains be dammed, I am set free
I awake with a new vigor
To a new year

Notes: First I recommend to read Orange Crush The adventures of Soda Pop by Richard Lamoureux, all of them are a series. So, I added my dark side, and a wee bit of Charles Dickens at the end, as he like Richard used to write stores in series like this. I thought it unique to combine these 3 ideas in one!

I took the character of Ricky, aged him, and had him look back in time!

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |


Time an eternity sigh 
Take good care of the minutes 
The hour is 60 minutes 

Time when it's not too late 
Take some quiet time to be happy 
Time is the most precious thing we have 

Time does not heal all wounds, but the pain subsides 
Times are what we make of it 
Time is not a thief, it's a gift for you and me 

Time to remember, live for today 
The time to hope for tomorrow 
Things we wish we had done yesterday
 
Time is our best friend and our worst enemy
Time for laughter, tears, love and a hug 
Time is a symbol of all that exists 

              ...... A symbol of all that we have







13.10.2014
A-L Andresen :) 
Copyright © All Rights Reserved 

             

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |
All those years flew away 
for nothing.
Then of course the headaches 
started when weeping constantly
at the unfairness of my marriage.
You need to know that I didn't 
love him but I cherish the family 
we've created, you, my children 
are the center of my life.

My hardships coping with 
my authoritarian husband
drove us apart.
I started drifting away to 
avoid being at his mercy .

I couldn't help myself to 
get around those roadblocks 
that at the time deprived me
 from walking through
 a new path of change. 
I was stalling even in my silence, 
aware of all the deceptions 
that had come to characterize
 my life.

I had learned the hard way 
to stay calm and pretend 
that I didn't sense what was
happening to me,
and let time do its magic.
I wore this mask for so long 
I didn't feel safe without it
 exposing my true identity,
 it had to remain hidden .

I stopped blaming myself 
as I was able to survive 
my pain over the years.
Time has elapsed and done
 everything to diminish 
my anxiety and eventually
allow my soul to heal.
I cannot tolerate seeing 
myself weep anymore.

I started genuinely enjoying 
every thought that passed by, 
ready to feed myself with knowing
I would not repeat the same mistakes.
I ended up riding this roller coaster
of emotions feeling everything.
I was able to survive the pain
 when I was at the bottomless 
despair.

My walks alone under the 
blazing stars,
imagining and wishing I would 
never see him again, 
craving my marriage 
to become a memory .

I started feeling that I found 
my silence smoothed my inner anger, 
my passion has been real despite 
my original skepticism.

Walking towards my cottage 
I knew there'd been 
a reason for it.
Somehow though the wilderness 
enhanced the beauty around my 
cottage garden, 
the clouds were getting thicker 
and darker,
running inside towards 
my refuge, 
I realized that I liked being 
in control of my own life.
      At Last.

Therese Bacha
13 October 2014

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
I gaze at the wind as it blows acorss the grown wheat.
My neck bends down and I stare at the grass beneath my feet.
The thoughts I have go far in the past.
In the time before when there was no grass.
Dreams of how the land was in the time before.
I can imagine how this once was on the ocean floor.

How dark and so cold it must have been.
And all the creatures that lived so deep within.
So many living down in this dark place.
Each life to live in the ocean's fast pace.
Flowing through the currents as a leaf on the wind.
The ocean floor covered with clams that never end.

Seperate individuals that we all are today.
Much similar to the clams that lived here that day.
We all have special minds that we can share.
Not one is alike so special and rare.
Once in a lifetime there's one person we meet.
We can share all with them and it makes us complete.

Once in our lifetime theres a single event.
Like clam that catches a dirt fragment.
We hold on to that feeling with all that we are.
Always lighting our way like a nothern star.
Like the clam that holds one little piece of dirt.
We hold on to the one that gives us comfort.
After some years this clam has a pearl.
As rare as the feelings of love for this man or this girl.

Copyright © Donald Williams | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Wind so cold.
Blowing.
Fondles my face.
Tickling.
The tears from heaven.
Pouring. 
Tapping. 
Dancing.
Unrelenting.
I wonder if i wish
    to stop them
From numbness,
    to waking,
          then sensing.

The little voice in me says,
Wait, don't go.
Stay a little longer. I plead.
Sing for me today, rain.
With the gliding rhythm on my piano,
                                                  I'll play.
Chilly Wind, caress my bare skin 
     with the pure coldness that you bring.
Unusual,
     like it's my first time in the snow.
Somehow, 
     the fire tree never fades in the picture.
The yellow sunkissed leaves, too.
What is it about Summer and Fall
    that I can't forget?
Memories. Sweet imaginations.

The chilly rain. The misty wind.
You are here. 
Freeze me with the sharp coldness you give.
Calm me. Maybe, comfort me.
And, if you leave
Will you visit me when summertime comes?
Before it gets too late
   And again I fold.


Copyright © Wendy Meyer | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
	Of course on this night we are supposed to be asleep so Santa 
could come, but we hadn't been home from Midnight Mass very long, and the 
invigorating cold was not conducive to sleep.  Even the hot chocolate did not do 
much to help sedate the excitement.
	We were hoping for sleds that year.  The snow was perfect for 
sledding especially like we did it.  We tied out sleds on behind the car or pick up 
and were pulled through the hills.  We got our sleds.  My dad and my uncle made 
them for us.
	No television and only in the late years were we allowed to use the 
radio.  Batteries were to expensive for frivolous use.  We spent many hours 
playing cards or games.
	I took time out and went to high school and college and got my 
teaching certificate.
	My aunt taught there only one year after the Federal Government 
turned the schools over to the local government.
	The last time I was back there the out buildings had been moved and 
Indian families were living in them.  The school was dirty and unkept.
	Now the school is gone.  The ancestors who once walked these 
dusty plains are gone.  The Indians who were there when I was a child are gone.
	They are Ghosts.  Ghosts whose faces can be seen in the clouds.  
Ghosts  who still chop wood on those sub zero nights.  And the drums we heard 
in the middle of the nights are still beating.  They beat as strongly as the heart 
beats in a healthy body.  The laughter of the children still echoes under the 
bridge.
	The life blood of a culture, of a nation grows thin.  The Battle of 
Wounded Knee was the last battle to be fought  between the white man and the 
Indian on the northern plains.  It's cries still echo across the land.
	My foot prints in the creek did not last any longer than those they left 
in the dust.  But in my memories, this mile and a half by three quarter mile haven 
still lives.  And will live forever as a piece of unrecorded history.

Copyright © Marycile Beer | Year Posted 2007

Details | Couplet |
An Echo Through Time
 
An echo through time follows all now in kind;
It’s the moment when poets find their rhyme!

Past-Present events give us a mirror to see from,
Of what Present Perfect events have now become.

Poets must write to truth what surely they mean;
With such wondrous verses the reader shall glean!

Writing with tone, tenor and syncopation is grand,
Giving poets that mellifluous effect desired by plan.

The echo quality of a great poem bespeaks its passion,
Whilst its literary panache shall always be in fashion!

An echo reflects a poem’s true resonance by intention;
Ensuring one’s mind shifts to an intellectual dimension.

Poets’ rendezvous with this echo through time is divine;
It helps us enshrine our thoughts now in continuous time!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
November 27, 2015 (Rhymed Couplet)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |
Every time you listen to my songs
I will be sending you a great big kiss
And though I moved beyond your sight
Know all of you I will surely miss

Always remember the joy and laughter
That always found a home within my face
Always think about all the wonderful times
I took your mind and heart to another place

Please try never to shed unhappy tears
Each day my love ones while I am away
For there will be a time in the near future
When again in each others arms we'll stay

And tomorrow morning when you think of me
About the love you always saw in my eyes
Remember wherever you might be in your life
My spirit will never again leave your side

My family I miss all your hugs and kisses
Which I will always treasure, and I am sure
One day soon again we will laugh and sing
Together in heaven with our precious Lord.

A poem i was moved to write for Whitney, a beautiful
spirit, while listening to Stevie Wonder sing 'Love is in need
of love at here funeral!

Wendell A. Brown
Copyright  February 18, 2012,
All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © Wendell Brown | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
my time is torn with thoughts of love
labors worn from pretending
things i wish to come
hopes tied up in the labyrinth
of my mind
wishes all used up
prayers running out of time
writing lots of poetry using the line
"a relentless search to find"
the other half of myself, all mine
The One
the want, the need, the answer to my greed
who? is the question the quest is launched for
what? is the subject. irresistibly amore
i cannot quell this instinctive quarry
it must go on for eternity
until i feel whole
only then will i reach my goal
when? you know the answer is always now
where? anywhere
How? with all my heart and everything
i have
with quick wit and foolishness to make her laugh
with repetitious revisions or romantic gestures
with elocution of vows and phrases
make her believe the end of my days is
when she leaves me alone

Copyright © john loving iii | Year Posted 2009

Details | Light Poetry |
Get in shape, lose some weight. Every year it’s always the same. Read a book, stay home and cook, And I only have myself to blame. Till some land, lend a hand. You’d think that I’d be smart enough, Cards to send to a sick friend, To ignore this self-improvement stuff. Get more sleep, don’t sell cheap. But it is an annual institution, Take a class, use less gas. To make a New Year’s resolution. Eat less meat, be more discrete, Why must they always be so hard? Be more caring, try more sharing, This time of year puts me on my guard. Be more polite, sleep at night, I wish for an easy way I will confess. Work hard all day, don’t over stay, To keep the resolutions that I express. Only say what you mean today, What if I only made an easy pick? Do your best to skew the test, Then my word would surely stick. Eat more snacks, take more naps, I’ll confuse my karma and trick it. Watch TV, look out for me, This might be just the ticket. Stay up late while cheating fate, This is a New Year’s revolution, I’ll make my list then I’ll insist, That I keep this year’s resolution. And when it’s time to stay in line, But my promises I fail to keep. I’ll not hide as I backslide, As the benefits I will reap. I’ll be complete whenever I cheat, And by default I’ll do what I should. It won’t make me sad when I do bad, Because my failing will only do me good.

Copyright © Tony Lane | Year Posted 2011

Details | Light Poetry |
JUST AT THE RIGHT TIME

Just at the right time
You came and rescued me
Drying my tears, dissolving my fears
Dashing with smile, inviting me to fly

Just at the right time
You became my eyes and lips
Walking to uncertain sharp tips
You are brave enough playing the chips

Just at the right time
You sweetly sing my name
Not for fame, not a game
This to build then restore me from lame

Just at the right time
You hold my hand when no one would
Courageous enough You boldly stood
Embracing me with my ever changing moods

Just at the right time
All hues span something unique and special
A kind, written by the whole wide celestial
Yes! yes, just at the right time..

(c)Olive Eloisa
10:48pm
September 14, 2014 

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
(To the tune of Silver Bells) Wooden sidewalks, and the shop fronts, Dressed in wild western style In the jail there’s a feeling of Christmas Cattle mooing, cowboys shooting Riding mile after mile And down at the Long Branch you hear Silver spurs, silver spurs It’s Christmas time in Dodge City Jing-a-ling, saloon girls sing Soon it will be Christmas day. Mobs in street fights try to stay polite While they bleed red and scream As the towns folk rush home To take cover Hear the jaws crunch See the kids bunch It’s Matt Dillon’s big scene As he catches the rustlers you’ll hear Silver spurs, silver spurs It’s Christmas time in Dodge City Jing-a-ling, saloon girls sing Soon it will be Christmas day. Silver spurs, silver spurs Soon it will be Christmas day. Soon it will be Christmas day.
When we travel in the car we sing to the radio. The other night, Silver Bells came on and I sang Dodge City to make my wife laugh.

Copyright © Tony Lane | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |
Sitting alone again, wondering if you're okay.
being alone, i remembered how i wanted you to stay.
looking for something I can hold on to.
It's the pillow that reminds me of you.

Every time the clock ticks,
I would always find a way to entertain myself &
hoping i can do some magic tricks.
before i close my eyes & go to sleep,
every night , i hope, i can be w/ you for just a glimpse.

every time it rains, i would always go outside,
but i guess no one would like to hold my hand & be by my side
I touched my face & i was already crying under the rain.
will there be someone willing to cast away all this pain?

until now, no one would risk,to wipe off these tears.
The shadow of my past, well those are my fears.
i always want to hide myself from this world's madness.
I often feel that I'm inside a bubble or in a dark sanctuary,
where there is sadness.

I hope there will be a wishing star that will pass by.
I'll make another wish,to find the guy who cant make me cry.
i sat at the corner of my room, and in my hand, was a ring,
a question that even i cant answer,
"will i forever be waiting like an Angel w/ a broken Wing"?

Copyright © Marianne Nolido | Year Posted 2011

Details | Verse |

Her glasses perched on her nose, my old friend
the Bookworm proprietor, welcomed me smiling,
and then murmured. quietly.."behave yourself" 
knowing I would  end up  at the poetry shelf.
Words, one word, a billion words..all for 
me..all for the taking. Words of love and hate, 
of brooks and fields, creatures small and great.
Words of sunshine and laughter ,sadness
and hope…of places and faces.
A coffee stain, a torn page patched with tape..
a loving inscription  on a cover page. 
Settling in my favorite chair, the tabby cat 
at my feet, I loose  myself in a land far away,
a land that grew from a poets mind and heart.
Tomorrow will come soon enough, but for this 
time, and of all these words, I am a part…

8/24/14

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2014

Details | Verse |
When I think of you..I get the warm feel of friendship, 
born not in a place, but from time and space.
Friendship has a price -- 

Our first encounter, a caustic remark as I perceived, 
caused my ire to rise and my feathers to ruffle. 
What did this broad know anyway!

When I think of you…I see Don Quixote and I wish there was a role for me. 
Dulcinea is taken and I refuse to be Sancho Panza.

In quick response, being as strong-willed, as this iron-fisted lass, 
correspondence exchanged, and in my slow southern country style,
I found, behind that northern accent was a wealth of information,
and a heart of gold.

From the first, I saw the masculine strength of his spine,
aged, idealistic, chivalrous and yet naïve.
Your indomitable will, your use of pen as sword, your 'walk the walk'
Christian talk drawled.
 
I found a poet with style and class, whose love for poetry 
only exceeded her willingness to expand the art and help others to grow. 

A man of many skills and kindness, I watched you spend night after night, 
cajoling poetry demons, leaving your Dulcinea in her bed alone 
to tilt at blowhards, as if they were windmills. 

In an exchange of thoughts and ideas, I gained respect for the person. I saw how beneficial her advice could be, and how she reveled in sharing what had taken her a lifetime to achieve. I had found a friend.

My life time had been full of peasants with false faith and, he showed me his way.. an honorable way like unto my own, always trusting till proven wrong, always open-handed and open hearted, a knight in search of the Holy Grail.

Differences, we have many, and we discuss them openly. 
Opposites on almost every level, but oh, what an experience to learn.

So, charming a man who sees opposites but still value, causing a smile of knowing, not of opposites, but of vast similarities of heart and soul, cloaked in language, so rich, and expansive, the loop of left to right, the forming of the sign of infinity has expanded beyond his view, but not mine. I know. Dulcinea and Don Quixote hand and hand reach for the spirit daughter. 

I've never met the face, but I have found her words to ring true, 
her character to be upright and just, and I see a moral and disciplined soul.
Through our mutual understanding and respect for the view of the other, 
we each have grown in our poetic journey, and the paths of our daily lives. 

a place is set
and candles light the way--
mapquest

Henderson's & Guzzi, friends forever...

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012

Details | Light Poetry |
Merry Christmas and all that stuff and don’t forget to write, Now if you would all be on your way I’d like a silent night. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed your stay, I have you must believe me, I just wish that it were over now because your leaving would relieve me. I’d like to say that the magic of this day would be with me until I die, But out of respect for the holiday I feel that it would be wrong to lie. I’ve spent the time following you around and picking up after your kids, Putting food back in the refrigerator and closing up all of the lids. I’ve even picked up your smelly socks after making Christmas dinner, While you’ve all gotten fat it seems that I’ve grown that much thinner. But when next year comes you’d better be here to visit with Santa Claus, Don’t tell me that you’ll spend Christmas time over at your in-laws. Because Christmas is a family time and we all should be together, And you can tell your in-laws that you’ll be theirs on Arbor Day forever.

Copyright © Tony Lane | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |
I’ve finally hit the big time I’m going to be on the stage Reading one of my poems I’m sure to be all the rage I enquired about my dressing room Would it have a gold star on the door With champagne and flowers to greet me (I’ve read about diva’s before) You can imagine my disappointment When I was shown to the ladies loo Not enough room to swing a cat And it stinks of wee and pooh! On 20th May I will be performing one of my funny poems at a local charity event to raise awareness and money for Parkinson’s disease – this poem came about after chatting with one of the organisers 05~05~16

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
My father-in-law went through this phase with his Alzheimer's.


We’ve recently noticed that grandpa has made himself a friend,
We’re pretty sure that this one will stay with him until the end.

The new guy has his room right next door to my grandpa’s place,
And every time my gramps stands at the window he can see his face.

It seems that the two of them are as compatible as can be,
And they both decorate the same as near as gramps can see.

Gramps visits with his friend to share iced tea and a smile,
Until they both run out of steam and decide to nap for a while.

They make a pretty good team they’re just like day and night,
The new guy uses his left hand and Gramps prefers his right.

And Grandpa never looks in the window just to stand and stare,
But every time he walks past the thing the other guy is there.

Grandpa says the only thing about this guy that might turn into a curse,
Is that the guy is so good looking and he might steal away the nurse.

Copyright © Tony Lane | Year Posted 2011

Details | Light Poetry |
The wind is blowing through my mind
Not gently breezing through.
It ruffles my thoughts and jumbles them
It will take time to file them anew
I like to file my thoughts in order
Of good ones and of bad
Its keeps things on a steady level
And stops one going mad

Happy thoughts are lifted
To the very fore
Memories of when we first met
You were sitting on the floor
The party was a bit of a flop
We left together and walked
And as we got to know each other
We talked and talked and talked

The wind is blowing stronger
The bad times it reminds
We split up for a lifetime
Well it seemed so in our minds
You persevered and asked me out
I decided you were true
My memory of our wedding day
And how happy I was with you

We had a little flat and furnished it with love.
The trouble was we were ground floor
And the water came in from above.

I look back through some memories
All tumbling in the breeze
The hard times the fun and laughter
The winter of the big freeze
We booked a holiday that year
The best time we ever had
I know it scared us half to death because I was so bad.
It’s a pity I missed part of it as to hospital I went
The baby we were having, to be born he seemed hell bent.

The wind is blowing on my head, now I fight with it for real
It’s just ripped off the shed roof, it looks like it’s been peeled
I better shut my memory box and find my hammer and nails
And fight with wind that’s blowing outside and stop my reminiscent gales.


Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder
It’s a common saying that is decoded from the look of a man
But of a truth, genuine and true beauty is beyond what the eyes can see
Only the heart can feel it
It glows with such power, even the ‘blind’ will perceive
Regardless of our status, rich or poor
Aboriginality, the language or cultural background
We all can see and perceive this inner beauty with the same view
One advice for my fellow brothers,
Always by pass the look go straight inward
And from the inward, outward appearance can be well appreciated
And advice for everyone
As you take time to make up the physical beauty
Create more time to nurture the inner one
For when you are inwardly ugly
The outward projection is nothing but a fake 

(c) 2010

Copyright © Joshua Akinwande | Year Posted 2011

Details | Light Poetry |
Pretty Polly picked a pen and pinpointed Peter Pan Who pinpointed Peter Pan ? - Pretty polly! Peter pan picked a pen and pinpointed Pretty Polly Who pinpointed Pretty Polly ?- Peter pan! Pretty Polly and Peter Pan picked a pink pinpointed pen The pink pinpointed pen pinned and penned Pretty Polly and pinpointed Peter Pan. Who pinned,penned and pinpointed Peter Pan and Pretty Polly The pink pinpointed pen.
Tongue Twister Line : The Pink Pinpointed Pen Pinned And Penned A tongue twister poem for Mystic Rose's Contest. : ) : )

Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? |

Wrestling Verses


Spilling ink onto paper,
reading tea-leaves,

fragments of mirth,
shards of anguish,

remain,
trapped in rolled-up sleeves.


Turning up my collar,
as blue as these days that slip by,

scattered verses plunge into,
the fathoms of unknown waters.


My ink runs, slips, treading lightly,
penning odes to love on bare skin,

your skin,
your bare back my canvas,

my fingers tracing, caressing, scribbling,
homages to our laughter, our tears.


Wrestling verses,

lie spent, exhausted,
famished and parched from saying too much,

still,

my fingers tickle your soft skin,

my ink would run dry,

were it not for your gentle touch

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
                                                    What is time?
                                           another spin around the dial
                                             Tick tock goes the clock
                                     Second to minute:A voice screaming
                                                        ''Hey Doc''

                                                   Time to wake
                                              Time to make a new
                                   Feat to floor,seldom make it,except a few
                               These random mornings my watch I do not wear
                                 I wake,smile and laugh''without the utmost care''
                               
                                      Slip up my double knot and dare the world...

                                 On cloud twelve,now feat can't touch the ground 
                                                        Nor would I let
                                           Smiling a smirk sweetly smiling
                                                        Not one regret...
                                                                          
                     To harness this morning would be Heaven in a bottle that I must leave behind
                      If it is''as of now''  it has to be  aged -potential to be a unique and  special wine...
                                                                      
                                                                                   I raise my glass to the next tasting.....
 
                                    

Copyright © Jai Bankson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |
Place the coins over my eyes,
and lay me down to sleep. 
This mortal coil has sprung its last,
its time for me to leave.

This time has been no time at all, 
its true they say it flyes, 
Id like to be a fly on the wall, 
to see the truths and lies. 

I was taught as a child that we die and move on, 
but i refuse to accept that is true. 
For as long as you live and as long as you love, 
i will live on through you.

Copyright © martyn oakland | Year Posted 2011