Best While Away The Hours Poems
There is a place where the land bows down to kiss the misty tide,
Where rolling waves bring memories of the place my heart resides.
There among the old fishing shacks that stretch along the shore,
I find the thing I’m longing for, in your sweet embrace once more.
We sit together on a weathered log I carve my initials on,
And as you mend the fishing net, I sing your favorite song,
“Oh Danny Boy”, falls on the wind and floats across the bay,
As you smile at me and melt my heart, with words you do not say.
Beneath a golden sun with the fish and the smell of wild flowers,
A little girl and her Grandpa, sit happily and while away the hours,
And when the sun dips in the bay, we put the mended nets away,
And hand-in-hand walk home again, to the end of a perfect day.
~~~~~~
Author: Elaine George
(In loving memory of Theodore Evans - My Grandfather)
This year more than ever
I long to surpass myself
The clock is ticking
No longer can I recklessly
Take the gift of time for granted
I dream this year more than ever
To give wings to my muse
Release the buildup
Of pent-up energy
And let her loose
Free reins
With canvases and color
I dream of releasing
The artist in me before
She sleeps her life away
This year more than ever I dream
To dress in artist garb and
Wear purple feather in my hat
More than a wannabe renaissance groupie
Parade down the streets of Paris
Break bread with starving artists of the day
Be it as it may crossing lines of time
Hang out with the likes of Leonardo
Rembrandt Picasso and Sartre
Artists and philosophers alike
While away the hours in bistros
Pen in hand living on coffee and croissants
Hang out in bakeries while kindred spirits
Sit to chat about their latest works and passion
This year I dream of making each day count
Remembering time can seem both infinite
While being abruptly finite
Published in my photo/poetry book ~NEW YEAR~ 2019
AP: 2nd place 2021
POTD December 19, 2019
Submitted on December 17, 2019 for contest NEW YEAR DREAMS sponsored by CHANTELLE ANNE COOKE - RANKED 1ST
I have so many little quirks that I don’t know where to start
Please try not to judge me as I bare my fragile heart
First there is my coffee cup, no other can replace
An antique made by Fire King, this quirk a damn disgrace
I dropped it on my driveway and it broke into a million shards
Trying to find another one really was quite hard
Without my favorite coffee cup my morning really sucks
An antique dealer an hour away charged me fifteen bucks!
Then there’s the issue of my purse; it’s rode a plane I have not
I’ve left it laying in motel rooms; the single thing that I forgot
It’s also spent time on sidewalks, long after I have gone
It’s ridden the roof of my car and was found on my neighbor’s lawn
One thing good about this quirk, my purse returns intact
Gives me faith in humanity and that’s just a simple fact
And please don’t get me started, the quirk with my long hair
I twirl it with my fingers and I’d be lost if it wasn’t there!
I also stop the microwave with a second left on the clock
I’m afraid if I hear it beep, I’ll go into mental shock.
Then there is this thing with ants; I love to sit in sandy loam
I can while away the hours watching them build a home
There are many oddities with my food and the meal that I just ate
I must eat my items separate, so I use a divided plate
And damn those raviolis; I have to know just what’s inside
Painstakingly peel each one apart, so the meat it cannot hide.
I have to straighten hung picture frames and items on a shelf
If I cannot make them just so, I want to hang myself
I’ve given up orange slice candies, because there is no way to do it
Unsuccessful at melting one in my mouth, so finally I’ve said “Screw it.”
Now that I have bared my soul and admitted all my quirks
Can we still be best of friends, if not, an acquaintance works.
Written February 6, 2018
Contest: Quirks
Hosted by Madison Demetros
Zephyrs
‘I cannot tell you how it was
But this I know it came to pass.’
Beneath the broad and spreading oak,
Warm zephyrs sighed through meadow grass.
They danced among oak tree’s leaves
And sang a vibrant summer song
Of how we would love and love again
And to each other would belong
They sang among the budding flowers
And told in the ringing chimes
Of how thinkers while away the hours
And of how lovers write in rhymes.
But then they spoke of Autumn’s chill,
When secret mists would hide our way.
How playful spirits toss the leaves
When warm summer fades away.
Then ancient zephyrs breathed a sigh
And left that pleasant summer land.
Now blust’ry winds of Autumn came
And took us by the hand.
Our love was lost in hidden ways
As drifting mists obscured our view
And Autumn spirits tossed our dreams
And left nothing but the dew..
1st two lines are opening lines from
'May' by Christina Rosetti
Barry Stebbings
July 2022
fyr feelN vry chat-T n yr gal S vry cattie, i'd ask u 2 refrain,
4my chin i'd b scratchin f yr txting :@) l@tn i'd ask u 2 refrain!
Plz dont Y'L awy the hrs talkin 2 Mayflowers, dey wl ask u 2 refrain
4 they're nt cyber powers they r Luddites ina twer, dey wl ask u 2 refrain
Tho yr fingAs may B skippin ovr keys they wnt lippin, sho em u’v a brain
n they'll luv ur knd }xx aftr evry missive wishes F u cll its nt n vain!
If your feeling very chattie and your girl is very cattie, I'd ask you to refrain
for my chin I'd be scratching if your texting in pig latin, I'd ask you to refrain.
Please dont while away the hours talkin to **Mayflowers, they will ask you to
refrain
for they're not cyber powers, they're ***Luddites in a tower, they'll ask you to
refrain.
Though your fingers may be skippin over keys, they want lippin, show them
you've a brain
and they'll love your kind kisses after every missive wishes, if you call it's not
in vain!
*PS it can be sung to "If I only had a Brain"
**Folks who are so OLD they came over on the Mayflower
***A Luddite is a person who is opposed to technological process
for cultural or moral reasons.
Unpacked by dawn, the newborn day lies still,
it takes it's first breath, breeze disturbs the haze,
faint sunlight cuts a path from up the hill,
soaks out the nightly shades of blues and greys.
Daylight reveals the boats along the cut
their hulls adorned with swirling script and flowers,
picnic chairs on the prow are folded shut
'till next their owners while away the hours.
Inside, still sleeping, different folk reside,
newly retired, the boat their final home
or weekenders from busy lives here hide
to cast off, then to further reaches roam.
Though different, the same calm water calls
this is the common bond that binds them all.
I smell fried bacon- someone else awoke
to take advantage of this precious time,
two dog walkers pass by, though neither spoke,
at six the distant village church bells chime.
Along the cut sounds as the crews are roused,
not yawns, but whistling kettles, clattering plates,
a Spaniel pads out onto the bow
anticipating breakfast, sits and waits.
To fetch fresh water someone steps ashore
acknowledging a wave with tip of hat,
nearby ducks snaffle bread and beg for more,
while watched with hungry eyes by someone's cat.
The helmsmen scan the sky while drinking tea,
all smiles knowing just how the day will be.
For me a privilege to share these days
time slowing to a crawl, no need to make it,
you see the blissful calm in all their ways,
cherish every heartbeat when they take it.
De-cluttered lives, these people travel light
and in my mind I wish that I could too,
they say that they are happy and they're right,
so little but enough to see them through.
Their back yard they can change when they see fit,
new neighbours but all still one family,
and gracious to let me be part of it
though soon I return to reality.
The reed beds saw me off as they all gave
a long, wind-blown, rustling Mexican wave.
For contest 'The perfect day', sponsor Madison Demetros
November 21, 2017
Apples in orchards
Apples in orchards crashing like snowflakes to the ground,
They fall into the baskets to be eaten now.
They have ripened and at last we can taste their juices;
This fruit of the loom brings pleasure to our mouths.
Vineyards drunk dry by drunken Mediterranean’s,
Create a wine so divine, you would swear it was a God send.
There is no end of pleasure to be found in this land of ours;
Sip the wine and spit it out and then while away the hours.
Summer shines upon us, as we are drunk in love;
We have tasted her, we are with her and she is the one.
The one who brings us happiness when all else is dark.
She brings us the warmth we crave; she is euphoria for the heart.
Dance for your lover and take off your clothes
And you will see the smile on their face.
Love each other truly and who knows,
You could grow apples in your orchard and savour the taste.
Love is your apple and your life is your orchard;
It takes two to grow an apple, so come on now don’t be a dullard.
Smother them in love and your orchard will grow
And at last you will have a place you can feel at home.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Who is last to be served a meal
Who tends to the kids when they fall and squeal
Who transports kids like they're on a Ferris wheel
.... a mother
We live our lives in the fast lane
The days whizz past so fast
Don’t have time to catch our breath
And we hope our good temper will last
We wake our kids in the morning
Make sure they aren’t late for school
Give them breakfast and a well stocked lunchbox
Although the Ninja Turtles box may no longer be cool!
Then we hurry to our day job
and we while away the hours
then its a mad dash home to greet the kids
Some precious ‘me time’ just isn’t ours
Somehow we fit in the shopping
And take the kids to social clubs
A little down time is so important
Spend time with your friends or your hubs
So get yourself a trustworthy babysitter
Maybe a grandparent or a reliable friend
A few hours with no parental responsibilities
Some precious ‘me time’ is a real godsend!
Take care Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
7/27/18
I'll write this on the back
Of a cold-tempered cloud
Aching with rain released
onto a black clutched shroud
Its another fine morning
But I pray for showers
To reflect my emotions
As I while away the hours
Seconds,minutes pass
At a slow progression
They take no heed of forlorn boys
Dreaming of their obsession
These seconds march ominously
To another breaking day
As the sky brightens to white,
to blue, not grey
As the farmers arise
And mount tractors to save the hay
I sit by a sunlit window
Waiting for a rainy day
Emerging from the Shadows
We have wrapped ourselves in the warmth of the open hearth
As darkness has fallen like a curtain over a sky
Filled with brilliantly shining stars--
Shadows of trees silhouette against the half-light
As we mourn the loss of our loved one;
Life does go on--
Painful memories shake themselves loose,
A moment comes when the door opens
And the future comes strolling in;
We have learnt to harmonize ourselves
With the rhythm of life--
Slowly we have awakened
From a darkness long untouched by sleep;
It is time to emerge from the shadows--
Realizing we are never again
To while away the hours with you,
So we have shut the door properly upon the past.
Silence and seclusion
I'll take them any day
Upon my face, there peeks a grin
Now, I can have my way
Seclusion is so comf'table
For me, myself and I
This precious time predictable
I'll sit and wonder why
And silence - I know none of it
My heart begins to sing
Growing lighter in this perfect fit
My inner thoughts take wing
So leave me with my company
To while away the hours
Withdrawing from the summary
Of influential powers
As I take your hand,
life is so very grand ;
we will walk through life,
as husband and wife;
forever I will love you,
sure as skies above you ;
everything that I do,
will be to please you ;
for as long as we live ,
you'll get every kiss I give ;
my life will be only yours ,
as we while away the hours ;
each night I will caress ,
away your days stress ;
I will kiss your sweet lips ,
and tender finger tips ;
I will hold you forever
and release you never.
The past avails not. The future avails not. The only nothing is the here and now. The infinite fire of the soul only exists in the perfect absence that is the point of moment. Progress, regress, time is referential to itself. I think therefore I am? I think therefore I while away the hours in the nothingness of space and time, moving on, moving on, the infinite is nothing as all absence is so vast it's infinite; I think therefore the I that does not find constraint and existence in reality is; I think therefore reality finds its expression in me; I think therefore the perfect point of time subsumes its existence into its own infinite detail; I think therefore all is naught; I think therefore I am not.
Sometimes
By Franklin Price
7/28/2015
Sometimes my joints are aching
On this trip of life I'm taking
But I wouldn't have it any other way
In this joyful life I'm living
There's some taking and some giving
I'm just passing through not really here to stay
I try to bring a smile to faces
Of all people of all races
As I travel through this life from day to day
That I know them doesn't matter
If they're skinnier or fatter
To treat them ugly really doesn't pay
Can't be looking down on others
They're my sisters and my brothers
Yes everyone I have a chance to meet
As I while away the hours
To extend my hand empowers
Me to make a friend of everyone I greet
Have to go the sun is bright
I've made it through another night
Always grateful to a loving God above
I leave this advice for you
Would not hurt to try it too
Don't spread hate around just spread a little love
Beside that lonesome meadow
where the bluebells used to grow
there lies a lonesome pathway
that wanders to and fro
where afternoon talks and moonlit walks
would while away the hours
and there a bed of softest grass
and lightly scented flowers
How lonesome now that meadow
where the bluebells used to grow
how lonesome is that pathway
that wanders to and fro
no more the talks and moonlit walks
that while away the hours
how lonesome is that bed of grass
that so often
we called ours.