A girl watchmaker stands among clocks rimmed with frost,
their pale faces caught in winter's thin hush.
She watches silence drip from their frozen hands,
each drop a faint crack in the brittle air.
Shadows settle like cold breath around her craft,
while time thins itself beneath her steady gaze.
The summer season
The couple laid on
The lawn chairs staring
Up at the dark sky
It was a warm eve
The full moon was bright
The stars were shining
They looked like diamonds
As they were staring
At the moon and stars
The couple held hands
Content being together
The bond of love strong
Their two hearts are one
Faithful as two hands
thunder announces the time,
Florida clockwork.
Written: August 16, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Line Gauthier
**************
Afraid of Love’s flame, yet drawn to its name,
I almost said “I love you”, my demur to blame.
Curling my tongue—worrying you'd leave,
Love agony is louder than hope, if you believe.
In silent rooms, holding hands, we glance,
Both aching for a sign, a spark, a chance.
My heart is stone, my heart was sealed,
Long before you had appeared.
Tell me why, my dear, how, my dear.
You managed to churn up my insides for a whole year.
So, my darling, why so darling?
You throw rocks at my head,
But you willingly catch me before I fall dead.
If not my darling, why so darling?
both sides you show I just so fear.
So tell me, dear, why and how, my dear,
Are you messing with me?
Or are you just darling?
—The Weight of Cannot—
I came to stay the falling, yet the hour
went on beneath the ordinances of fate;
my hands, made eloquent by love, had power
only to learn how powerless to wait.
I stood beside the vanishing, and knew
that presence hath no hands with which to stay;
I called the name; its warmth remained, yet through
that warmth, the beloved had already passed away.
My love reached shore; the beloved was sea,
and every strength I summoned sank from sight;
I asked Time for one mercy; memory
returned, and made remembrance ache with light.
The thing I could not change changed what I knew
of love: my hands grew still—and still reached you.
These people
always like
to say that
“the gloves
do not bite”
but sadly now
they are being
used to shock;
But I do know
what it means
to burn red hot
for I once felt
very hot water
on my torso
and was quite
cruelly mocked;
“Never forgive,
and never forget”
is precisely what
they always seem
to want to say,
but false leaders
always lie to the
misguided flocks;
They take from us
and manipulate war
to fool the ignorant
and betray the wise,
and that is exactly
why they scheme
whenever they are
off the work clock.
Only a monster tainted by evil supports the use of electric shock to control other humans. You cannot change my mind.
There are some
looked down their nose
in the troubled Covid times
at those who bump elbows
as opposed to shaking hands
so with a bend let's start a trend
a new fad across the land
and instead if you please
why don't we
lift a leg and all knock knees
The goo from eating a chocolate or two.
Pizza spread with cheese and bread.
A popsicle colored red and blue.
Mixed with dirt and wiped down the sides of my pants.
Without another glance.
Momma said," don't wipe your hands on your clothes.
Wash them off in the sink.
Otherwise, your clothes will stink!"
Took off my pants.
Washed them with soap.
Left them in the sink.
"Oh no you don't!" Momma said.
"Wash your hands, not your pants!"
You could have been clearer.
So, I washed my hands.
Pulled my pants out of the sink.
Put my pants back on.
Went out to play.
My friends and I are making mud pies today!
This poem is for a competion I've been asked to enter for WI will be displayed at Westmourland show in Cumbria topic was Hands of Friendship gets judged on 20th August thought I'd share with my soup family.The original is all different colours but didn't work in colour here.
H ands Reaching out to one another
A lways give friendship and love
N ever feel lonely again ~ when you have friends
D o unto others as you’d like done to you
S o to make friends reach out in friendship
O nly make someone feel special
F riendship helps lonely,hurting abused hearts
F orever friendship breaks barriers down
R each out touch the world with love
I n the WI I hope to make friends ~ be a friend
E verlasting hands of Friendship ~ heal our world
N eeds are met when friends care
D ont forget someone needs your friendly smile
S ing songs of love together
H eal our village, land, world with love
I t is good to be a true friend ~ trust me
P eople grasp the hand of Friendship today
Acrostic poem written by scottydotti_the_poet 10/08/2026
When out last week
a-looking around
heard the the boys in the band
and their sound
rocking out all right
a-pleasing the crowd
with strings and keys
playing so loud
while out that night
a-doing the town
saw the boys in the band
getting down
hands were a-clapping
knees a-slapping
toes a-tapping
flip-flops a-flapping
in time to the music
of the Beach Bar groove
where at five bucks a beer
I had nothing left to lose
nothing there but the Beach Bar blues
Nomenclate it clock hands,
we connect when the right time lands;
we wait more to meet,
we wish to let time cheat.
Cheat that brings us to stay,
brings the glimpse that won't betray ;
we stand by holding being us,
grin accompanies upon seeing us .
Out of those thousands we connect twenty four;
those twenty four feel a lot more,
no sides or slides beneath ,
these clock hands are the core.
surrenderer ungrudgingly humbling she reposition actualization again as her gramps essentially irresponsibly whacker of sail deciding my normandy
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • July 20–26, 2026)
Rich Hands, Empty Pockets
That's the anthem echoing through a system
Built on grind.
Gold towers rising high, scraping skies that never contort down.
To see the ones breathing exhausted beneath.
Rich hands, Empty pockets- silver glimmer like it's got a heartbeat,
While hope thins out like the last light of vespers.
The needy wait in the muzzle of shadows,
Holding stories the world keeps tripping over,
Holding one's breath for someone- anyone to finally see their plight.
Rich hands, Empty pockets- a divide etched deep by recourses we pretend not to notice.
Material gain becomes the measure of worth,
And Humanity slips soft, almost silent, through
Cracks we walk past every day,
Like they ain't credence in whole lives and still-
Rich hands, Empty pockets keep ringing, keeps rising, keep asking
How long a system can shine while its people become colorless.
Gravitational Hands:
(The unaffected minute)
The clock face project, the dials:
Suspended in a silent, frozen fluid state.
Detached from the norms of its time.
As the seconds turn to minutes,
Unrecognizing the hours in a hurry.
Away from those forgotten days, just
Last week, saying slow down before
Fortnight answers with a brief timeout.
This month had no time to reset.
There’s nothing we can do now.
The new year is here.
A crescent moon, being cradled, waits.
Angles suddenly appear in a weightless
Form within triple timing turns gravity
Into what becomes a mystified standstill.
Calm before we realize how?
Decades can evade without notice.
The sudden moments of bygones
The century has shown throughout
Millennium, how far we've come
From aeon to eon, but the difference
In the distance, when they appear in time.
Beckoning us to accept the hidden forces
Behind gravitational hands, in reality.
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