Days Poems - Poems about Days

May we be blessed to look for the good in every one…every day always keeping in mind… some days we need to look a little harder… some days it may be difficult to find. ...

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Spoken Word: “Last Days in the Empire” By Alejandro Diego Z. MA Psych Is America the Next Babylon? They built this dream on a haunted field, Blood in the bricks, but the scars don’t heal. Liberty whispers with a slave's appeal, Signed the deal, now we spin the wheel. Foundations cracked from greed and steel, Preachin’ hope but forgot to kneel. Talkin’ peace...

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the floorboard that gasps when stepped on the blue bulb pulsing in an amber-lit room the coffee stain colonizing your blue shirt— some days, we’re nothing but a tiny inconvenience sharpen a pencil too far—it snaps gargled too long, you swallow by accident sending flowers too early— some days, we’re nothing but the clock that limps or leaps some days, we are the red shirt always...

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How that alien day flaunted the UFOs hiding in strange places. The media portrays a cosmic secret of secrets that is now known to millions. School crossing guards fretfully scan the skies as they cross the street, holding small hands. UFO ladies of the neighborhood, document strange lights in the sky, and...

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The days drift softly, like leaves on a stream, Fading whispers in a fleeting dream. Sunrise paints the sky in hues of gold, As time’s gentle hand unfolds stories untold. Morning glimmers with promise anew, Afternoon blooms in colors true, Evening whispers in violet hue, Marking the world’s eternal view. Mountains stand in silent grace, Forests dance in nature’s embrace, Oceans sing with endless grace, A...

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Some days, I only make it as far as the sink, to wash my hands and brush my teeth. Water runs, but nothing gets washed away. Still, I count it a victory- a flag in the dirt of another morning. The mirror does not lie, but it doesn't tell the full truth either. It doesn't show the arguments I won by walking away. It doesn't show...

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You and I have been friends for many moons You and I have played together countless afternoons Not to mention many mornings and many nights. Since today is your birthday, I want to send you: kaleidoscopic lights Multiple dancing rainbows of heaven, exotic flowers And warm hugs and I’ll blow fresh new kisses from afar to your ears. I called you...

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Love is at risk on other days. When expectation flags to stale bread. When hearts steal a glance before eyes are read. For love seeks no script, no stage, no cue, It's better ad-libbing than being spoon-fed. For the dullness of routine settles as dust. when tomorrow ups, and leaves the room, hoping for better times ahead, on other days....

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My hasty steps echo on the cracked stone tile, before the bus door hisses shut—Late again. "It's a wonderful life," the clouds sing in chorus. Their church choir harmony almost offensive, if I didn't know, they truly believe life is lullabies and steaming apple tea. Swear-soaked hair clings to my neck. I call these ember days: when smoldering urban air chokes— Yet the clouds drift, marshmallow white— Like porcelain...

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If, within the silence, you begin the play once more, If, even with a fine performance, you can no longer catch the essential lines, If, driven by life's anxieties, no matter what you do, an unwanted play is staged within your mind, If, to shield yourself from it, you try to guard with noise, increasing your friends as a form of defense, Even if the theater fears the days...

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giggling swaying around carelessly... i feel my life in a state of fantasy... few days before, i recall.. i swear, i thought i be in a downfall... grateful and hopeful, i am.. glancing around seeing miracles charm.. God must have opened the door.. thus, encouraging me to follow... it is not of my own accord.. to my God, i trust He mark in record... i...

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As 365 days pass, I still look at the same moon glistening over the same ocean I still hear your soft laughs in my head, I can still see some of our broken faded memories, As I keep coming back I keep remembering, All those restless nights and happy days, I would die just for those 365 days. ...

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remember when we slept >< on the ...

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Bouncing off a trampoline Anton Dvorak fell on his head ~ A ‘cancelled Czech’ ...

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On some days, I am the pencil, drawing with uncertain steps hopes on sheets of paper, My hand trembles, but leaves traces of dreams still daring to take shape, Other days, I am the eraser, erasing with such force that holes remain like memories, The paper tears under the burden of my attempts to make everything disappear, to...

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