Hour Poems - Poems about Hour

noon’s furnace: asphalt shimmers; air—thick, slow— cracks open. cicadas drill through stagnant gold. a sprinkler’s hiccup-hiss: the pavement’s glow un/curls in steam. the hydrant’s shout: uncontrolled. children shriek!—a liquid burst of now, popsicle rivers bleed; knuckles—sticky, green— cling to handlebars. shadows stretch: thin, lean across chain-link. each blade of grass—laid down— bakes. but dusk? a match-strike: fireflies!— the yard exhales jasmine; stars prick the...

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Time changes with life and life changes with time. October grows too old, Hobbling backwards With the burden of years, On the sinuous alcove of time, Tenebrous and feathery, Her hidden lamps blinking furiously At the silhouettes of wasted days. The wasted leaves of autumn Break forth and dance down With the weak speed of burnt confetti. The clocks go back several ticks, Schlepping on the tired...

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Waking up in the middle of the night, heating the stove to make a pot full of tea. Oh, how this silence soothes and calms me. Looking over at the clock, it reads 11:11. Embers crackle softly in the fireplaces light, Settling into its warmth, everything feels just right. Over my shoulders, a blanket is...

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If intent and actions are cause and effect and influence the future what you give is what you get and yet what about children caught in the crossfire when very young murdered in man's mire they have not yet begun to live and love is all they have to give so much for karma symbolised by the lotus flower but whereabouts is it in their most needed hour forsaken by fortune they...

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The darkest hour comes with pain that's insane, Excruciating, unrelenting pain. The sobbing and gasping are so abrupt. The heart is broken; the body gives up. The darkest hour tries to take control, Searching through the suffering for the soul. Disillusioning evil tells a lie. “Death will set you free, so let yourself die.” Numbness begins to smother the feeling. The chaos of your...

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interpreted from italian to English by Dolce Mancer of Money- Interpretations Original Works by Bangles De Suppasta A Neapolitan Italian Song Best sung in italian He Still my Friend Song by Dolce pity the fool that you don't Love him It ain't cool He believes You're his friend Don't be cruel this lacks human feelings You know the rule That just ain't cool Tipping out on your Mister Getting us all involved Frustrating the narrative Acting like...

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His very bones smell of ocean beard lashed with its salt On land, rubber legs awkward ...

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It's been an hour and ten days The time since you went away It's been a torture for me then The feeling is like I'm a neglect Everyday seems a dull moment It's gloomy, I can't concentrate I'm alone, I can't done my work As if there's no life in all I see The colors around me all dark Every food I eat has...

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Written: May 25, 2025, for Contest: Sponsored by: Constance La France Quote: "There is a place where voices sing your beauty, A place where every breath carves your image in my soul. Words are a pretext. It is the inner bond that draws" By Rumi ...

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Going to the town store, during rush hour, a chore. I ran to the door, fell. Keys now lost on the floor, but no keys could be found. Oh, they're in my pocket!...

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At a bend in the road One needs take utmost care, More so on road of life.” By author **************************************************************** ...

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People bolt in mad race through jammed streets cities brace. Against time car lines crawl, destined for a long haul. Rush hour of frenzy match makes us chase dreams to catch. ...

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Mine is a wild spring step, shoe heels dash leaf strewn path, I spy wrinkled driver’s, rueful rush hour grim mien, from sleek chrome cars crawl as, my drained feet moult traction!...

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Quickly grabbed my briefcase My brolly fought the rain I sped to the station Only just caught my train Bang on nine… my boss rants You’re here… but where’s your pants? ...

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Mine is a wild spring step, shoe heels dash leaf strewn path, wrinkled drivers sour mien, from rueful rush hour toll, as sluggish cars inch by, my drained feet moult traction...

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