Long While away the hours Poems
Long While away the hours Poems. Below are the most popular long While away the hours by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long While away the hours poems by poem length and keyword.
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
Dumpster dive with me my dumpster girl
So nice to have a slice of life called home
An upgrade from filthy cardboard boxes
To cast iron cans with plastic flip top lids
Live side by side with me my dirty love
Grazilda lives in refuse too
Our intimacy in containers is taboo
Pink for her, a receptacle in blue for me
To while away the hours in primordial goo
Just behind the mall by the parking lot
Surrounded by debris and talking trash
Obviously we don’t shower
Our love will last at least an hour
On Sundays we climb the near by evergreen
To the tipsy top we go to hang out loud
Pounding our chests like Tarzan and Jane
Screaming obscenities as we sway
Swinging is a way of life and lice are free
I scratch her back and she scratches mine
One day we will move in together
Friends don’t need two dumpsters
We will sell the pink one to some stranger
Someone smart with a shopping cart
The mall is right there by the tree
People are always looking for bargains
Who could ask for anything more
A dumpster by a department store for sure
Look no more because Grazilda comes
Limping towards you in torn and tattered rags
A crooked smile with one good polished tooth
To seal the deal, to melt your hearts
And she speaks Latin with a slur
Buy one can and we will throw the trash in for nuffin
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
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
It seems humour is much appreciated
In this troubled world we live in
So I will continue to send out the giggles
Seems like there's not a lot of us
That write with a lighter touch
Which matches my personal approach to life
We're all just rushing to that glorious meeting
Way up yonder amongst the stars
Well I've still got some unfinished business
Down here before I make that inevitable trip
I still have my final act to go
Believe me, I'm having the time of my life
I wondered what I was going to do
To while away the hours when I retire
Poetry was the furthest thing on my mind
So with your blessings, once again
I shall continue to send out the giggles
Ad infinitum
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
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.
Form:
Gracious old stone homes, lofty rooms full of nooks and crannies
Snoe-white linen and antimacassars embroidered by our grannies
Cool wide verandahs, wrought-iron lacework draped with wisteria
Old fashioned cooking smells wafting from the kitchen, the hub of the interior
A grandfather clock ticking in the hall
Horses hooves on cobblestones, at each house they used to call
Sweetly perfumed gardens, fruit trees, shrubs, and fragrant flowers
Winding paths that lead to nowhere and a swing to while away the hours
Old stone laundry where the weekly wash was done
Spotless clothes and billowing sheets bleached by the summer sun
Sounds of a piano, or a wireless
Children playing in a nearby lane, seemingly tireless
Neighbours in their gardens, chatting over the fence
Everything in Grandma's day had an air of innocence
I feel so nostalgic now in this age of technology
If I could have a choice, I know where I should love to be
In a gracious old stone home
With rooms full of nooks and crannies
Cool wide verandahs and fragrant garden,
Exactly like my Grannies
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
Who knows what the new year will bring ~
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