At The Last Minute Poems - Poems about At The Last Minute

?? Dashing through the mall, With a coffee in my hand, Frantic gift-card haul, This wasn’t what I planned! Sales are all but gone, Shelves are looking bare, How’d I wait this long again? This really isn’t fair! ?? Chorus: Oh, last-minute sleigh, Rushing all the way, Why’d I procrastinate? Now I’ll overpay! Last-minute sleigh, Racing through the fray, Next year I’ll shop early—but Not today! ?? Amazon won’t ship, It’s cutting close...

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I wrote this at the last minute. You know, the minute before, I raced out the door. I scrawled it out until the paper tore. The thoughts I wanted to convey about another hurried, scrambled day. I spilled and splattered it on the page. I was Jackson Pollock in a frantic rage. My muddy, muddled words never tired. My rutty, riddled will never...

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I’ve been rushing all day for the rest of my life, because I woke up late and didn’t pack the night before I haven’t learned how to take things slow and appreciate how sweet molasses tastes falling before it touches my lips Instead, I weave through traffic as if I could arrive to my destiny any quicker...

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roses are red violets are not got off work late that’s all they’ve got ...

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Cars are bustlin’ and people are hustlin’, The avenues are backed up with shoppers Last minute hunters are getting frantic, Christmas Eve comes on Friday of this week One must come prepared for all the panic, As Impulse buying is on the increase With buyers getting more and more frantic, The hubbub will last for another week The helter-skelter probably won’t stop And, I’m...

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And shall this piece of twisted wire bring me all I could desire, and will this ugly-looking button that tears my flesh to shredded mutton, grant me up there a first-row seat where heavenly angels come to meet? Can Heaven in mercy ever cover my slaying children with their mother? What of those maids in Paradise? I yearn for them, but what's the price? Lo,...

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If you are going to spring last minute changes on me, let me know well in advance please....

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In the last minute of this midnight madness I said to you the one thing, The very thing which is the essence Of fulfillment and emptiness....

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Absorbed in Guernica’s promise Lucifer glanced at Montmatre Settled his mind on virgins in heaven as Mona Lisa smiled on One Last Supper tied to a suicide belt he set out to light the church Of Our Lady and mounted Chagall’s Blue Horse towards The Scream It was a Starry Night and he wondered how they painted in paradise Oozing...

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the bin by the door overflows with umbrellas - till’s steady ka-ching - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Date written 14th December 2019 Writing Challenge, December - Winter Haiku or Senryu Sponsor, Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode...

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Last Minute The old lady went to the thrift store. She found the row of coats, and looked for just the right tags. The color of the day. She bought everyone that she could afford. There were nine in all. Then she pushed her cart… toward hats and gloves, boots and shoes. Soon enough there was no...

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I'm just digging myself deeper Can't stop Won't stop Don't stop Till I get to where you are Tendrils of smoke Are they turning into Strands of red ribbons Or is that just an illusion In my head Want to be his tequila sunrise Not the first But want to be the last The rays of sunlight Burning in your memory Ain't perfect Not the same every time Ain't perfect Not the same...

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Getting to the store quick on the double, their faces look anxious and troubled, minutes to spare, pulling out their hair, caffeine the hustle in their bustle. 12-22-16...

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The last minute wonder. The nick of time saviour. At Hells door I lay. A willing candidate for destruction. For I had exhausted my wealth on the acquisition of wild pleasures. There His grace found me. Those amazing hands that dragged me back to life. That love that fed me with the living waters. That Jesus that transformed me into...

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dodoitsu series (rhymed) Winter is taking the reins speeding past days of autumn - Jack Frost smears the windowpanes forefingers and thumb. You who have no house to own, too proud to seek charity, you choose your path all alone that’s a guarantee. Your attic room, where risks run rowdy as the eastern winds, barren refuge while you shun warmer help from friends. Churches...

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