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Best Just A Minute Poems | Poetry

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The Best Just A Minute Poems

Details | Just A Minute Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Have a lovely day

Have a lovely day

Pushed now to the limit by a never ending whisper
Lost behind the meaning of a question I can’t hear
Dreaming of a day when life addresses me much deeper
Found within in a headline that is nothing close to clear

Led onto a dance floor with a blindfold and a promise
Following the jagged steps that shuffle once again
A slow collaboration to the music that was playing
Performed beneath a false pretense that never should have been   

Words in place of faces with a finger pointing outward
Fodder for the listeners who fall as one more prey
Stalking from the shadows on the unsuspecting gazers
Candy offered free to all of those who want to play

Jumping to conclusions as if age will change decisions
Casting off a friend without a compass in his hand
Sorry if this heart has run away from past deceptions
When its found the weight becomes much more than it can stand

Some can be so fickle filled with uninvited feelings
Blame is placed on others as their mind lives in a trance
In between the lines they find affection in a poem
Whirled about in cursive some accept as true romance

When did I become a man who listens to his echo
Caught outside the visions that can bring the scene alive
Wondering aloud if I can just afford an answer
Facts of that elusive mark which somehow I survive

No one understands me as the crowd now wanders backwards
Shocked that some old lunatic is running down the street
Screaming in a language sounding like a trolley whistle
There’s no need to fear me, why does everyone retreat

Just another body strewn about in some odd fashion
Move along, there’s nothing here you haven’t seen before
Hurry, call the coroner his pen is slowly dying
Look, a note he left behind all crumpled on the floor

I am just a poet who at times has penned emotions
Sending hope and happiness in fancy written charm
Not some steely daggers there in wait beyond the forest
Hopeful you’ll believe me that I never meant you harm

Those were not my wishes that are sorted out and tattered
Just a piece of fabric sewn around the fraying seams
Stitched together tightly in a thread of indecision
Cut by little pieces that are lost inside my dreams

Give me just a minute and I’ll pick up where I started
Then you’ll know the meaning of these very words I say
Far above the message found in hypothetic banter
Everyone, enjoy yourselves and have a lovely day

Thanks for everything Soupers. I will never forget the kindness all of you have shown me. 


Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2017

Details | Just A Minute Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Violet Eyes

I made a promise, a little visit
A busy much to do..
But, I'm running late, they will be waiting...
I should be going...the clock is ticking
I'll take just a minute for a quick hello
no need to linger, ...and then I'll go

I grip my keys, and make excuses...
She seems confused....unduly quiet 
Oh dear, it's useless, ... her voice is desperate

"You must try a piece of cake. Made fresh this morning,.. no need to hurry! The tea is hot. Let's have a chat, you must be thirsty!"

(The clock is glaring.....I need to scurry....)
(My life is busy....this day's been crazy)

"I can't stay long.....  a late appointment....  I have to go,"...
                         was my reply

  (Oh dear, it's clear, she tries to hide sheer disappointment,,,, I cannot lie!)


She walks her cane, across the floor,  her smile is kind...

I have declined, with clear remorse
I start to say one last good-bye,  hand on the knob of her front door

"Would you like to take a pot of violets?
It would take just one moment, before you  go"
        I can't refuse, how could I now?  I see the longing in her eyes

And now we've walked to a screened porch 
The sun's a torch that lights the room
Her potted blooms are in a row, a glorious show of mauve and blue
They sit so proudly like pots of gold
In glorious colors,.....I must behold

I smile expressions, sheer admiration
Her anxious look turns to delight !...
Her face lights up just like the sun
Years melt away from somber eyes.

I've asked her "What, could be your secret,
           to grow these perfect spring bouquets?"
"The fragrance sweeps a magic potion, that makes me want to spend all day!"

"Please tell me more, I'd like to know." 
We sit and chat, and I'm enthralled.....
  "Leftover tea leaves? Helps them to grow?".....
           "Now who would guess? Please tell me more!"

               Her eyes are wide, with my request
               This time I know just what to do
              "I'd love to share some tea with you"
               That's how we spent all afternoon

      She cut the cake
            I poured the tea......Her smile was worth a million suns

                I noticed then,.. that afternoon.......her eyes were blooms
                                     of violet too

Contest: A Conversation
Sponsored by Frank Herrera

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009

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Here Kitty Kitty

I can't help myself, it's what I do
I'm just so addicted to the trade
I was too dang scared to steal the dog
'Cause of all the noise he made

You can see that I'm a cat burglar
By the mask and kitty in my paws
It's not like I stole your jewlery box
So I'm really not breaking any laws

See, I was only gonna borrow him
There's no need to sound the alarm
I needed this varmint to scratch my back
I didn't mean the little fella any harm

Now wait just a minute, don't call the cops
You caught me red handed with the critter
I'll give him back, 'cause he smells like poo
So you probably need to change the kitty litter

For Francine's Contest "Tell me about it"

Copyright © Larry Belt | Year Posted 2011

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          *                                        *
                       *                *
Stars adorn our dark evening skies
     and twinkle brightly within our sight,  *
          to let us know we are not alone
               in this vast and unending universe.   *
   *          Looking up, we sense the mystery
          of their glow from light years away
     and know we're just a minute speck,   *
traveling in space along with them.      *
                       *                                       *
Stars frame our Moon, inspire love
     and secret wishes to be made upon;  *
          grant inspiration for poetic words,
 *             music, songs, and romantic artistry.
     *         They draw us in so we may venture    *
          out to them and explore unknowns
     within our own galaxy and worlds afar...
to unfold that mystical space beyond. *
       *                                 *                      
Our stars hold the mysteries of life        *
     for we know we are made of them...
 *        our building blocks of life are found   *
               within the stardust of our Milky Way.
               And, the greatest star of all, our Sun,   *
        * holds us safe and stable in its grasp,
     delivers sustained energy to live by...  *
and fills our days with sunshine bliss.  * 
                   *                                      *
                             *                                     *

Sandra M. Haight                *
~1st Place~
Contest: Favorite Poem Written In June 2018
Sponsor: Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings
Judged: 07/24/2018

~2nd Place~
Contest: Why Are There Stars     
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Judged: 07/10/2018

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2018

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Little Red Riding Hood Once Upon a Time

                        Little Red Riding Hood Once Upon Time

                        Little Red Riding Hood
                       left for nearby Pine Wood 
                      to meet her Dear Grand mom
                      whom she loves from her bottom.

                     Little angel, little fairy wore red dress.
                     Pet Micky Mouse put red hat to impress.
                    Quack duck put on red shoes on webbed feet.
                   Three were out for Grandmother to meet. 

                  On her way she met a wolf in white dress
                  wearing woolly shoes with white lace.
                  Wonderful wolf named Wow-Wow
                  nodded its head and made bow.
                  Wolf was driving an old vintage car
                  shown in a movie that won prize Oscar.
                 Wow-Wow said ‘Wait just a minute.
                 I can give all of you a quick lift.’

                 So she boarded the car with each pet.
                 Wow-Wow drove car to the gate
                 of the wood house of Grandmother
                  waiting eagerly for her Granddaughter.

               Grandma wore white blouse with red border
               on red skirt with prints of white flower.
                She sat on soft red sofa cum bed.
                 Her socks were white and shoes red.

              Micky played guitar, Quack nicely sang.
              White balloons, red ribbons Wow-Wow hang.
              Wow-Wow became friend so helpful.
             Wild wolf can also be wonderful.

            Little fairy, little angel is my Granddaughter
            She plays with toy pets and is busy to chatter.
            I meet her on Skype every Sunday
           My little Red Riding Hood jubilant and gay.     

                  Once Upon a Time Poetry Contest Third Place
 Sponsor Laura Loo

Copyright © Anisha Dutta | Year Posted 2016

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in ebony

two feathers, each four inches long - bought *for a song - comprise a pair of rings I wear rings for my ears, not for my hands, with silver strands of beads entwine my plumes divine! the dark hue of the feathers goes with many clothes and flatters me in ebony * "for a song" is slang for "at a bargain price" In this case, I found my long black feather earrings at a garage sale for only two dollars and have been wearing them a lot!! Written 10/19/12 by Andrea Dietrich for the nette onclaud's JUST A MINUTE! Poetry Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012

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Echoing Thoughts

It’s a recurring thought –
Over and over again –
Reverberating in my head,
Bouncing back and forth,
Reeling up and down like a Yo-yo,
Like a boomerang that keeps coming back,
Like a song stuck in your head,
A thought that gnaws at your will to live,
Like an army of termites devouring 
your soul making you hollow inside,
Like the waves of the sea
lapping its shores ceaselessly.

It’s a nagging thought
to just shut off everything,
Like turning off the light switch
and walking away;
A thought to strip off all my
worries and cares of the world,
Like a snake shedding its skin,
And just wandering away,
Leaving behind petty rivalry,
envy, jealousy, shallow ties,
The promises and perils of life,
And to step forth renewed, reborn,  
into a new place with no identity,
no name, no past, no aspirations--
just living for the day
As I like, As I please, 
With no vagaries of life,
No yearning for paradise.
Walking away folk free 
unrestricted by time or space,
customs, creed or the rules of the law.

But this thought
Like an active volcano ever brewing 
and rumbling but never erupting,
Like a seed sowed with care and nurturing
but never sprouting, never coming to fruition.
It just keeps kneading and churning
Forever bobbling in the doldrums
Performing boondoggle tasks
Bearing the burden of the world like Atlas,
Unable to sigh or sneeze,
Fearful that a sudden moment
The slightest shift might cause
an upheaval in someone’s life.

Ah, the woes of life!
Why thou linger willy-nilly in my vicinity?
Why thou not forsaketh me?
Go and befriend the dark, foreboding clouds
And burst down upon some distant shores.

Let some sun shine upon me,
Let love gather me in her warm embrace,
Bequeath to me days rife with joy
and mellow moonlit nights,
Let my path run some distance straight
and not twist or turn at whim,
Let there be spring in my seasons
instead of the cold and bare winter,
Let me rejoice in the day’s toil
And earn me the night’s repose –

It’s a recurring thought,
Over and over again,
Reverberating in my head...

Wait just a minute!
Didn’t we go over that already?

"Inside My Head" contest by John lawless

Copyright © Abdul Malik | Year Posted 2015

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Playing With Jealousy

A boy and a girl
The best of friends
From elementary to high school
From beginning to end

Through all those years
Their friendship grew
They both felt the same
But neither knew

Each waking moment
Since the day the met
They both loved each other
Sunrise to sunset

He was all she had
In her horrible life
He was the one who
Kept her from her knife

She was his angle
She made him smile
Though life threw him curves
She made it worth while

Then one day
Things went terribly wrong
The next few weeks
Were like a sad song

He made her jealous
On purpose, he tried
When the girl asked “Do you love her,”
On purpose, he lied

He played with jealousy
Like it was a game
Little did he know
Things would never be the same

His plan was working 
But he had no clue
How wrong things would go
The damage he would do

One night, she broke down
Feeling all alone
Just her and her blade
No one else home

She dialed his number
He answered, “Hello,”
She told him she loved him 
And hung up the phone

He raced to her house
Just a minute too late
She was laying in blood
Her heart had no rate

Beside her was a note
In it, her confession
Her love for this guy
Her only obsession

As he read the note
He knelt down and cried
He picked up her knife and
That night they both died

She was found in his arms
Both of them dead
Under her not
His handwriting said

“I loved her so
She never knew
All this time,
I loved her too…”

Copyright © Tyffani Paceley | Year Posted 2007

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The golden sun over the trees
Radiates its heat early
The Woodpecker tap-tap-tapping
Greets me with sounds burly

Where is his nest housing their young
In the same tree in our yard?
Noisy creatures that they truly are
Is he tapping out a bard

Is it Morse Code tale in Poe's style
Or Frame back for a day
To write poems of her desire
Possibly Hemmingway

Just a minute out on the porch
Imagination wild
Would all the poets meet me there
Or just nurse inner child  

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2013

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We don't need no stinkin contest

The world has woken up from slumber spring,
dogs barking, crickets chirping and birds sing,
from early morning to late eve the sun is shining,
and every cloud has a gorgeous silver lining.

Expressive hues of blues paint the sky,
welcoming the wildlife and hearts to fly.
Why do I refuse from this computer chair,
when my body longs for the life out there?

Addicted to these words and wins, I know
if there be a battle, it is I that must show.
A contest, a competition, I crave the glory,
a check mark win to be included in my story.

Looking out the window, I see inspiration bloom,
putting it into poetic lines from my bedroom.
Forming the right flow to take me to top prize,
the computer screen glows before my eyes.

Just a minute, just a minute, I can stop I say.
Maybe before the night, I can enjoy the day.
Check the winners status, may I boast?
Oh look.... another new contest to enter post!

Contest! We don't need no stinkin' contest.
I've already proved I'm the fastest pen in the west.

For Contest: Contest! We don't need no stinking contests
Date: 7-20-18

Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2018

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The Galloping Gingerbread Boy

I am chasing a galloping gingerbread, and the little old man and the
Little old woman and a rake and a fork and a spoon are helping me
When another villager begins yelling at the top of his musical scale,
“Christmas is here! Christmas is here!”

My eyes pop open. I am disoriented, not knowing where I am at first.
The galloping gingerbread cookie has turned into a galloping real-live-boy!
I must have fallen asleep on the couch, after sitting down for just a minute.
Three children in the form of sixteen battalion of horses 

Hit those stairs like percussion instruments.
They have discovered that Santa left half of a frosted cookie.
Two are screaming while the oldest one devours it.

My husband plods in from the kitchen and smarter than Nero,
Forks over a chocolate-milked, double sugared, coffee. My hero!
I see you got finished, He says to me, the wrapping-present-queen
I nod. I was going to just sit down a second, before I came to bed.

He smiles, knowing how fast sometimes the energizer bunny 
falls down in total exhaustion mode, in the form of his honey.
Max throws himself into my arms, warm pajamas and all.
A galloping gingerbread cookie, in the form of a live doll!

Written 11-30-2018  Contest:  Christmas Cheer  Sponsor:  Kim Rodrigues

Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2018

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My Most Memorable Christmas Gift

It was many years ago that I sat there on the floor
With Aunt Allie and my cousins, we knew what was in store.
The clan was gathered there around the Christmas tree
Just eagerly awaiting their Christmas gifts to see.

There was Billy Joe and Grady Earl and pretty Bonnie Lou
I can’t remember Martha  – She might have been there too.
All these kids, aged six to nine, were very close to me
And when you saw just one of us you’d see two or three.

Now, Christmas gifts at my house were opened Christmas eve
But presents in aunt Allie’s home, were saved  ‘til morning, don’t you see.
I’d had my Christmas presents; there were quite a lot.
So I’d gone on down to Auntie’s to see what they all got. 

They took turns opening their gifts – around the room they’d go.
The first one up was Bonnie Lou – ladies first, you know
Bonnie gave a gleeful shout and raised her present high,
Just what she’d wanted for so long -- a portable hi-fi.

Grady Earl was next to see what Santa had in store,
He left cousin Grady skates that he’d been savin’ for.
Billy Joe was anxious to see if it were true
That if you had not been real good, it’s switches there for you.

Well, Billy didn’t have to wait too long to find what was in store
A box as big as China was coming through the door.
Now generally big boxes meant something really good
And when they opened up this box, a new bicycle stood.

All this Christmas giving went on an hour or so
When people began watchin’ me and started talkin’ low.
They tried to look so normal as they continued on
When I heard one kid whisper, “There’s nothin’ here for John.”

I’d opened presents earlier and I thought that they all knew
I was only there to witness, not to gather me a few.
It was not long, I’d say; just a minute, maybe two --
Someone handed me a package, saying, “John, this is for you.”

Something wrapped in tissue was now held in my hand –
I really tried to protest – They didn’t understand.
Their love for me was genuine and, me? – I felt the same.
They were somehow embarrassed that no gift bore my name.

I pulled away the ribbon from the tissue they’d prepared --
I know their love was all wrapped up in what was lying there.
At first it was puzzling as I looked into their faces,
For lying there was a brand-new pair of simple shoelaces.

Though I didn’t understand it on that day so long ago
The meaning of the laces continues to grow and grow.
Innocence was present then and few will now recall --
Young minds can seldom comprehend the meaning of it all.

 Sweet memories of Christmas past now fill the summer air
As I stand here looking down at the marker lying there.
Bill and all the other kids have now all gone away,
But the meaning of the shoestrings comforts me today.

Written by John Posey

Copyright © John Posey | Year Posted 2012

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George Washington Cole - 1827 - 1911

George Washington Cole

1827 – 1911

So here I sleep.
Buried in this dirt.
Covered in this earth.
Returning to the dust.
Finding heaven in the whispers of the wind.
And as for all my friends here,
All these stilled silent voices of Clark Cemetery,
We represent just a single sand pebble
Just a minute solitary dust particle
In an ever expanding infinite universe
Of shadows and scant tracings.
Travel to any city or town in the United States,
Or any sovereign country on Terra Firma,
And you will find the endless names of us,
The dead,
Who lived and died since the onset
Of the Gilded Age of Bessemer steel.
And those endless lists of the dead are nothing,
Nothing in comparison to the endless lists
Of the by-gone personages before us,
The past generations,
Who breathed and sighed and spasmed
Since the onset of Eden’s first heartbeat.
My friends, we are all so small,
And so minuscule.
Does it not behoove us to dance
Even while the music plays?
Does it not behoove us to be kind, 
Even when the cruel day
Finally slaps us on the side of our faces?
So here I sleep.
Buried deep in this forgotten grave
Just a whispering shadow of a former man
Awaiting with baited breath
The blare of the last trumpet!

Copyright © stark hunter | Year Posted 2013

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Flirtatious Feather

"Flirtatious Feather" golden plumes caress blushing face sheer petite lace prodding passion feathered fashion. glazing pink flesh exciting bones soft mellow tones sweet sensation heart's elation. silk sentiments glide dainty wings ecstasy rings dew-kissed heather flirts love feather. *For Nette Onclaud's Just A Minute Contest. *Written by: Linda-Marie The "Sweetheart" of P.S. *Oct. 10, 2012.

Copyright © Linda-Marie SweetHeart | Year Posted 2012

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REFRAINS OF WINTER SONATA When fallen brown leaves brush a sepia picturesque and the bubbly breeze blows a heated winter sonata, the giant roses of clouds are teased, they shed icy petals tumbling, drifting like little ballerinas dropping to rest on branches of trees, grasses, houses and down to window ledges clustering in lily-white hues. Frosty mornings and nights lure the need for warmth from brewed coffee, a kiss or just a minute of touch... Absorbing the air, alone, I wander to the cover-walks, I see children tramping and playing on hills of frost, some couples carelessly sliding, they laugh out loud, yet afar, some robins, deer and beggars frown in despair as they are homeless. No fire nor a person to cuddle with. No adequate food to eat nor a flowing water to drink too... Cold. Wet. All white, frozen snow-tears are in their eyes and so I am one afternoon, a year and six months ago. The winter atmosphere can stir love passions within but how can it all be when the only woman, I love. I wanted to marry and ready to give my all: refused me? She, slowly walking away, leaving me crying-- a snow. ________________________________________________________ ~~SPONSOR: Broken Wings CONTEST: Write ME A Winter Poem~~ __Olive Eloisa Guillermo__ 8:16 pm, November 14, 2015

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2015

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Feathered Dream Catcher's

Within a catcher, dreams do scream
feathers redeem 
man's sullied soul
sweet dreams the goal

Within their vanes they transfix
each demon lick
each channeling's

Within the web they flutter, curs
nightmare mutters
beaded offerings
each feather sings

Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Contest: Just a Minute!
Date 10/20/12

*It is believed that the origin of the Native American dream catcher (or Indian dream catchers) is from the Ojibwa Chippewa tribe.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012

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i will forget you

just as i have forgotten my first kiss

and third grade teacher

you will be forgotten

and sent into the backyard of my mind

and forbidden to return


i will turn away from the push cart

with purple asters 

and ignore gazebos and river walks

i will not go where people mingle in twos

and where apple blossoms touch the air

i will be too busy forgetting you


nothing will be related to you

not the key hook you forced into the wall

or the tablecloth you scorched

because you turned for a kiss

everything will be what it is

without a remnant of what was you


i will forget you

even when dreams resurrect us

and you take vengeance in your absence

i was forgetting you with another

but saw the baby robin peak from its nest

and excitedly said, “carol, look!”


i will forget you

through every temptation and hint

daisy fields and haystacks

the first green suggestion of spring

you returning to bed for “just a minute”

i will forget you


but not just now

Copyright © DAVID ELLSWORTH | Year Posted 2012

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My unfold

I died a long time ago
It was when I realized that I couldn't find my ego
In responding to a million of hovering black crows
Feasting slowly on every hair of my eyebrows
Made me swear never to borrow
Other people's life force, life line or even life show
For I died a long time ago
When I let go
My god, my soul and my gold

I came to life just a minute ago
When I came to realize that heaven and hell resides within my soul
And as for that I need to be bold
I am feasting on all of the million crows
Patching my body back from becoming glory holes
For now I came to life with my final bow
To not let go
My god, my soul and my unfold

Copyright © Rozmanshah Abdullah | Year Posted 2014

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The Poor Little Black Girl

She sits on a street corner with a teardrop in her eye
Wishing she were in the cars of the people driving by
Her mother left with some john about two months ago
The man with the eviction notice didn’t care she had no place else to go

She carries in her small backpack everything she owns
The coming of the winter colds is in the winds that have blown
The bed she made on a City Park bench can comfort her no more
Her absences in the public school do not entice anyone to go looking for …

… the poor little black girl that nobody cares about

She has potential deep inside of her buried beneath the hunger pains
But nobody in this busy world recognizes what there is to gain
She is doing everything she possibly can to stop from turning tricks
But the only thing her mother taught her was how to hide the bruises from her kicks

The Styrofoam cup she holds out to strangers hasn’t collected any coin
People just leave her looks of disgust as if she is at fault for being forlorn
Shadows cast by the high-rise buildings grow longer with the setting sun
As commuters begin their journeys home she stands up in front of everyone … 

… and the poor little black girl lets out a booming shout

“I don’t do this because I want to; being abandoned was not my choice;
I tried quietly to ask for help – but today I will use my voice
I turned thirteen years old today – the anniversary of another girl’s mistake
Is it too much to ask for, just once, a piece of cake?”

 “You can pretend that I don’t exist; you can pretend that you’re better than me;
You can long for that future day when I am no longer here for you to see;
You can hate me and fear me and just turn your head the other way;
But you will see me again, sitting by our Father to hear your excuses come judgment day”

Businessmen and businesswomen stopped for just a minute
They looked around at one another not sure of the message or how to spin it
Then continued towards their taxis, subways, ferries and their cars
She stood alone after the sun went down beneath the twinkling stars …

It is up to you, now, to determine how this story turns out

Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2012

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The Magic Nickel

One day, not so long ago, when I was out playing with my dog Ruff, I met a very old woman. She looked very tired and poor. Her clothes were worn and kind of ragged. Her shoes had holes in them. She wore an old straw hat that was coming apart. Ruff began sniffing at the hem of her skirt.

She looked at me with a smile and said, "Excuse me son, could you give me change for my nickel?"

Now I didn't want to hurt her feelings by just giving her my five pennies I had stored in my shoe, so I said, "Just a minute and I will see if I have change for you." I was poor too and I knew that she was probably too proud to just take my pennies without giving me her nickel, so I said "Here you go, handing her my five pennies.

She handed me her nickel ever so carefully. Then she looked at me again and said,"How old are you son?" I answered, "Ten years old ma'am."

She smiled at me again and I noticed that one front tooth was missing. She said to me, "Since you were kind enough to make change for my nickel, I have a secret to tell you. The nickel I gave you is magic, and no matter what you spend it on, it will return to you so you can spend it again."

I kind of giggled and said thank you, not taking too much stock in what she said. A couple of blocks away was a small grocery store, so I thought I would try it out. I walked in and bought some nickel candy. Sure enough when I looked inside my shoe, there was the same magic nickel just waiting to be spent again!

I was thrilled to have a real magic nickel. I was pretty much a loner and I didn't have anyone to share my good news with except Ruff, who would rather chase Midnight, our neighbors black cat, down the street than pay much attention to me at the moment.

I decided to test out my magic nickel by buying something that cost more than a nickel. I bought some juicy grapes that Mrs. Murphy was selling for twenty five cents a bunch. Before I ate even one, I couldn't stand it, I had to look in my shoe to see if my magic nickel returned. Sure enough it did! Then I began to wonder if my nickel had returned to me, did that mean that Mrs. Murphy was short a nickel? I thought I would ask her to make sure. She said,"No, I am not short a nickel, Rafe."

At that moment I knew I really did own a magic nickel. I could hardly contain my joy as I made my way to Mr. Shields' store to visit the shiny new bike I had been saving my money for so long to buy. I thought I would test my magic nickel once again. So I stopped first at home and took all my savings out of my piggy bank. There was thirty-two dollars and forty five cents, counting my magic nickel. I went up to the counter and plunked down all my savings and told Mr. Shields that I wanted to buy that shiny new blue bike, and could I put it on layaway with my thirty two dollars and forty five cents?

Now, Mr. Shields looked at me with the biggest grin I had ever seen him wear and he said, "Rafe, you won't believe this but you are the 1,000th customer I have had this year and that means you win this bike!"

You could have knocked me over with a feather. I thought maybe Mr. Shields was playing a joke on me at first, but when he got the bike down and pushed it toward me to take, I was overjoyed. I had always wished for a shiny new bike and now I had one! I began to realize that when ever I made a wish, and then paid for what I wished for with my magic nickel, it would come true. It was indeed the best present anyone ever gave me.

A few years have passed and my mother and I now live in a cute little house near town that we bought with, you guessed it, my magic nickel. One day I came across that sweet little old lady that gave me the magic nickel, and I rushed over to thank her. I said, "Excuse me ma'am, would you have change for my nickel?"

She looked at me and smiled because she remembered me. I didn't even have to tell her that our life had improved one hundred percent and that we wanted for nothing now. She just looked at me, knowing it all, and she said, "Why I do believe I have five pennies for your nickel." And with that, I ever so carefully handed her the magic nickel, and kissed her on the cheek. A tear stained her face as she walked slowly away, I was sure, to find another person who would give her change for her magic nickel.

April 20, 2016
Children's Story Short
Sponsor Seeker

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2016

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The Purple Door

I passed a purple door one day while out for a casual walk
Curiosity got the best of me when it began to talk

It said it was a magical door and welcomed me inside
It bribed me with indispensable knowledge if I would abide

Only a brief moment of my time it would need
Just step across my threshold it began to plead

I thought for just a minute and wondered if I should 
What really did I have to loose, this might turn out quite good

I clambered up the steps with haste and through the portal I passed
Immediately I was whisked away through a narrow shaft

As I tumbled through the darkness, I faintly heard the door slam shut
A queasy feeling erupted in the bottom of my gut

I shuddered knowing that I had possibly sealed my fate 
What an awful mistake I made, I should have opted for a golden gate

I think my soul was taken, had I completely lost my head
Eternity was upon me, filling me with dread

A second chance I dared wish, as a silent scream danced on my lips
A horrible thought flashed through my mind as I came to grips

I should have kept on walking, never going through that purple door
I certainly didn’t anticipate this and regretted it even more

Had destiny played some cruel prank I truly could not tell
All I know for sure that day, I was sent to hell
Written 2014-05-21 : alternative ending 

Copyright © Sandy Bird | Year Posted 2014

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behind a coffee shop with paper planes

There! a newsstand! 
Inside, where that man stands.
Nobody stops for magazines
he's owing for your glance.
He loves the print on paper,
and a craving for it's smell.
A broken soul dealt hands
of cards misfortuned you can tell.
years passed.
His stand? the same.
That old lady stopped to browse,
but at home she left her change.
Seemingly sad,
So she buttoned up her coat
And whistled toward the street
for that ride to fly her home.
“Just a minute ma'am.”
He smiled, showing teeth.
“My morning traveled customer
take that tabloid there, it's free.
I’ve had this stand for years
and they never saw the sign”

-Corner Newsstand: My gift! You don’t have to pay a dime-

Copyright © Patrick Farley IV | Year Posted 2012

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Red light Green light
Stop running by the pool
Stop annoying your siblings
Stop picking your nose
Stop Drop and Roll
Stop talking in class
Stop making out behind the gym
Stop mashing your zits
Stop going so fast
Stop staying out so late
there's a cop
Stop underage drinking
Stop having sex
Stop wasting time
Stop lying in bed all day
Stop calling in sick
Stop what you're doing
and listen for just a minute
More like an hour!
Stop being a smart ***
Stop being a free loader
This has got to stop!
Stop being mainstream
Stop shaving
Stop by and see me sometime
Stop ignoring me
Stop lying
Stop cheating
Are they ever going to stop?
Somebody...Please make them stop!
Stop blaming yourself
Stop dating
Stop daydreaming
Stop and smell the roses
Stop being irresponsible
Stop smoking
Stop fighting
Stop hunger
Stop Drop and Roll
Stop repeating yourself
Stop human trafficing
Stop human trafficing
Stop looking the other way
Stop the world from spinning
out of control
How do I make it stop?
Stop this madness!

Copyright © Brian Martin | Year Posted 2015

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just when i needed a time...
a warm hug to comfort my frail mind
to free my self from anguish..
hidden beyond the light of wisdom,
succumbs to aggravation
where journey to hope is rejected
hinders thy first steps...
need soft winds to whisper my citations...
just a minute console
should you turn and listen
even for just a second...
whimpers inside without tears..
i cant see anything

Copyright © harris medrano | Year Posted 2012

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Sweet Nothings

Sweet Nothings.

Kisses are as sweet as candy
The feelings last longer too.
Caresses are sweet beyond compare
Especially with you.

Candy full of bubbles,
Is a hollow empty shell
You in my arms is the sweetest,
That’s what they should sell.

Candy cannot touch
The sweetness of your loving kiss
All the chocolate in the world
I would rather miss.

It is nothing compared to
The warmth of your sweet caress
If you were a bar of chocolate,
You would melt and be a mess.

Who needs candy or chocolate bars,
The taste gone in just a minute.
But it can give me some pleasure 
Especially if you're wrapped in it.

~GG~ 2012

Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2012