Calendars Poems - Poems about Calendars

"Nothing changes but the date on the calendar." By Poet We love our pretty calendars holding our favorite pictures. Many pictures of cute animals, some of majestic land or sea views. Each month changes with new pictures to enjoy. We circle the dates we need to remember, never wanting to forget our appointments or events. I like to...

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The years will pass, calendars will endlessly roll over the land of forgetting, But the moment I saw you, that moment suspended in the eternity of a gaze, The flame of love kindled then will burn silently in the hidden corners of my heart, Like a solitary lighthouse in the night, illuminating the secret paths of my soul. Seasons...

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Calibrated Calendars 02 4 2025 David J Walker Celebrate The day the month ...

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The Wardrobe of a Temporary Condition David J Walker I had to admit It might have been an illusion The first morning home Without a plausible conclusion to Calendars past and No witnesses left to Attest to the Long intrusion into My young life Nothing in the room Was mine Anymore The clothes now three years old Left hanging in the closet Where I left them The duffle...

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Calendars Like bank lenders Lending date products Per head all in spread Again and again Since birth to death Say life time Once in a year Quarter day in success In Four years a day in excess Lending date products Calendars...

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I always bought my calendars On this date in December. The prices had been cut by half And that’s why I remember. I purchased two for different walls And one for desk-top viewing, With different pages every day To read, as I’ve been doing. The local Barnes & Noble Had a lovely huge collection. I got there when it opened So I’d have the best selection. Alas,...

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Calendars lie I know they do Never could I be As old as they say All the years past They must be lies I don’t remember them They can’t be true Pages must be turning In the middle of the night Years slipped in When I turn out the light Adding up slowly To a big lie That must be it It is all a plot I can’t be this old...

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Today I bought my calendars And boxes full of cards To send next year conveying My best holiday regards. For after Christmas, things like these Are sold at half the price, A little gimmick stores employ To clear their merchandise. It’s become, to me, tradition For as long as I remember, I’ve bought calendars and cards The 26th day of December....

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I get up early each day to sit by my windowsill. And enjoy a glimpse of life before taking my first pill. Only half awake, my dreams drift as I try to recall. For, although sleep postpones pain, it quickly resumes its crawl. My room's as small as my needs, an efficient little box. And watching time slip away, I hate calendars and clocks. As dusk darkens...

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Each year they send me calendars To garner a donation, No matter if in years gone by I met that obligation. I must have half a dozen now With varied scenes depicted; But though they’re nice, those knowing me Could surely have predicted Not one of those would grace my walls ‘Cause even though they’re free, The only calendar I want Is one picked out by...

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I save old calendars, Hey, you never know, Time might slip backwards, So where else could you go? For planning, etc., You'd have to call me, And I'd make good money, From my calendar fee I don't save old bandaids, Milk cartons or beer cans, That would be silly, Like saving old pots and pans So keep me in mind, If backwards we go, Cause I'll be the one, You'll...

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