Best Deadline Poems
The Trade Deadline
Every year it seems
sports teams have a trade deadline
I rather be a player not the spectator
so I do not know a lot
but this small thought
of trades made me smile
You see
I just made a trade of my own
I traded 100 acquaintances world wide
in return
I got only one person
with the kindest heart and soul
even her team hat, brought me a smile that glows
My team will always be a team of hearts
red with passion, determination
soft with a caress of kindness
in gardens, where flowers are the only weapons
I am tinged with sadness
at humanities loss
I rather one with a voice of love
so as 1000 babies do not have to cry
A friend is terminal
yesterday he told me
standing in the parking lot
stunned, I was blank
wordless affection, noble silence
clasped his hand
we wouldn't hug
We weren't that close
still I sunk inside
fear in me, mixed empathy
how close do you need to be
to share lonely moments of humanity
we're all in the same queue
that, and taxes always come due
He said he's okay
that is his answer
to pancreatic cancer
haunting smile from quivering lips
fake laughs, shrugs
some live years on, he wryly said
vowing happiness till the end
There's a deadline now
not his, it's mine
he's made his peace
my deadline starts today
I share my hugs with you in words
In a race against time
The clock, my opponent
Discovering my rhyme
Learning to own it
Trying to reason
And ration my purpose
Is it gone, my season
My time to flourish
Too frivolous in the past
The privilege too grand
Youth failed to last
So here I stand
My resume bare
Knowledge below par
Is there enough time to spare
Is the door still ajar
May I still become great
Though so far behind
Far fetched at this rate
Impossible to rewind
All I can do
Is the best that I can
Spare moments, few
But at least I began
(To the tune of “Jingle Bells”)
Dashing through my tasks,
In a cubicle so tight,
I hear the coffee slosh,
Another deadline fight.
Bells from emails ring,
I can’t ignore the sound,
Oh, what fun it is to sprint
Through tasks that come around!
(Chorus)
Single spells, single spells,
Typing all the way!
Oh, what fun it is to pray
For lunch to save the day—HEY!
Single spells, single spells,
Bosses want it fast,
Why did I say I’d stay this late?
This day will never pass!
A week ago today,
I thought I had it done,
But then the boss exclaimed,
“Redo it, just for fun!”
I clenched my teeth and smiled,
(That’s what professionals do),
Then daydreamed of my holiday
And flights to Timbuktu!
(Chorus)
Single spells, single spells,
Typing all the way!
Oh, what fun it is to pray
For lunch to save the day—HEY!
Single spells, single spells,
Deadlines never end,
Guess I’ll sing this little song
Until my sanity bends!
:}
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Is anybody there behind that lifeless stare
We are here behind the empty glare
Do you know where we are now and who you are
We answer your question as one answer from many voices inside
We are dead to your sight yet live more then your own for we had lived for others before our own
How many are there behind your eyes in which I inquire to speak to answer me now and answer true
To acquire the answer in which you seek look into the mirror and we shall speak
Your response is not understandable if you remain trapped on the other side
We are all which hide inside your mind we are hidden deep in we reside
The answer you seek is waiting to respond looking for your eyes so you may react
Mirror up on the wall give your names not one but all
We are not you we are not real you can see us until you lost the right to feel
Yes the answer in which you desire is buried 6 feet with you near your fallen empire
We are one and yet no-one at all you're value was buried along with your mind
For the answer in which you seek dig up your bones to recover your despite
We went down quietly along with your soul we fought for nothing yet the fall was worth the fight
Now the voices which you now hear are just a mere reminder nothing is worth the conflict
If the answer shall expect a little fear
The due date approaches; the deadline looms
Irritation's in the air; annoyance fumes
A cauldron boils in every newsroom
The tension's palpable; nerves are frayed
Editors hit the ceiling
At mistakes never made
Ill winds are blowing of mounting desperation
Cooler heads giving way to righteous indignation
Utter frustration in the act of creation
Now the boss' out his mind; he's gone off the deep end
Taken it out on someone; flown right off the handle
Only to land himself head first in a scandal...
So remember, all you newsies, stay under control
Not blowing up's your primary goal
Meet your deadline; don't forfeit your soul
Congestions
Occur in the brain
Pressures and tensions
Workloads and targets
Competitions and expectations
Time limits and deadlines
All contribute to
A serious spiritual traffic jam
With
No by-pass
No overhead bridge
As life is not as simple
As a traffic jam on the road
We have to pay for every bit of prosperity
GOD’S DEADLINE
I do not understand how God can draw a line
And say once one has crossed it, there is no other time
To come to Him for mercy and know that sins are gone,
And yet I know that somewhere, somehow that line is drawn.
We’re taught that His great mercy forever will endure,
But though He has this mercy, His wrath is just as sure.
And should a man reject Him as his last breath is drawn,
There cannot be forgiveness for his chances are all gone.
If man could be forgiven beyond the cold, dark grave,
Then hell would be fast empty, for all would then be saved.
Just being there a moment will seem eternity,
And you will cry in torment and for mercy you will plea.
Like that rich man who went there, you’d see the ones in bliss
And realize the chances you had this place to miss.
Like him you’ll cry for mercy or water for your tongue,
Or for a faithful witness so loved ones would not come.
But all of man’s fair chances come on this side of death;
There is no purgatory once man breathes His last breath.
And when he’s passed from this life to doom in the beyond,
His pleas will go unanswered for his chances are all gone.
And for the sinning Christian rebelling God’s desire
There is a day of judgment and God’s consuming fire.
There is that day of shame when he stands there face to face
And sees his loving Saviour, the one he brought disgrace.
God has for him a deadline as sure as for the lost
And what he sowed he reaps then; yes, he will pay the cost.
Lord, I don’t want to trifle with Your grace so Divine,
So help me to stay faithful and not to cross that line.
Help me to carry onward and leave behind the past
And never to go back there, knowing I’ll be free at last.
I know I can do nothing about what I used to be,
But I know from now on I can try to live for Thee.
I know, God, You’ve forgotten those days I spent in sin
And gave me a clean record when I let You come in.
And I know You can help me in Your own special way
And make and mold and use me as Your vessel, Lord, of clay.
I humbly now acknowledge that I depend on You;
Let me not cross Your deadline; let me stay strong and true.
Is okay
Deadline is far away
Not tonight
Not ready for this fight
Nice and slow
I'll do it tomorrow
dilemma would be
watching MSNBC
hope they heard our plea
when message would send
kidnapping deadline extend
safely reach an end
would read on label
eat safely should be able
when food on table
when school complete
hope that they would save a seat
at a place to eat
The deadline’s fast approaching;
The Editor’s at the door.
He needs my poem of the day,
I have three minutes more.
I can’t log on to Rhymezone
To find the perfect rhyme
Or check the number of syllables.
There simply isn’t time.
He says he wants a funny one
To spread a little cheer.
But I’m not in a funny mood,
So I can’t comply I fear.
My lover walked out last night
And won’t be coming back.
Oh oh, here comes the Editor.
I’m going to get the sack
A headache is not
Simply healed with a pill
When it happens to be
A gigantic problem without a solution
A non-ending pile of work accumulating
A deadline without any bonus of time
A state of tiredness without a break
And so a headache lingers on
Until a decision is reached tomorrow
My goodness the time's really flying by
Nine o'clock and yet no new poems
Get your bum into gear my dear friend Jack
Morning will soon be broken
Try not getting caught with your pants down
Scouts say, “Always Be Prepared”
It's very good strategy for many things in life
Like toilet paper, always have a spare
Maybe writing poetry is a little bit different
It comes from deep down in our soul
If the brain ain't clicking there's not much use
Really difficult to really control
Feeling some movement, hope it's not a doodoo
Think it might be a few rhyming lines
By jove, I do believe a poem is emerging
So everything is gonna turn out fine
Needn't have worried, it's happened before
Last minute poems are the best
Damn problem is they usually don't rhyme
Means I really do fail the test
Before deadline ends chirp and cry in nest to be alive.
No desire to be part of a well-define circle yet still afraid to fly.
May not be disclosed the light has last mauve of butterfly made its agonize.
In last breath of soaring grace flames till make all of us be the one part.