Life is often fleeting. You hold it in your hand.
It slips right through your fingers just like so much sand.
And the harder that you grasp it the quicker that it goes
And what it all amounts to no one really knows.
I once saw a picture of a child in the sun.
Laughter there upon the lips, eyes so filled with fun.
I once saw a picture of a mother’s painful tears.
Live your life in moments, don’t worry about the years.
I once heard a story. A lesson to be learned.
Someone set a fire and everything was burned.
And there, beneath the ashes was a diamond wrapped in gold.
Though everything must perish, love will not grow old.
I remember when I knew you as a friend.
And now it all is gone but not forgotten.
Dull endless sights and slow restless nights
Oh the magnitude stifles the eyes
Parboiled schemes and tar soiled dreams
Soon your rifle attitude replies
Quick Draw McGraw, we know, you've done it all
That means your temper is semper tonight
You're so quick on the draw, how quickly they fall
When each night in some bar room you fight
Your throttle's in red, beer bottles and lead
Slinging bullets and bottles of brew
One's quicker with lead, and you find yourself dead
Just a stranger that nobody knew
I listen to the wind as it dries my tears
because its flowing current is wiser than all my years.
~ Quote by poet
Wind is never silent, echoing its cries
Sings in the night to stars in celestial skies
Stories are told upon the rushing wind
but in the telling, never does it feel chagrined.
Quicker than a heartbeat, it errantly flies.
Across mountain peaks its music is heard.
In harmony, I listen to every word.
I feel the cold of its temperate sting
and along with its beckoning lyrics, I sing.
When its message touches me, I am stirred.
In a gentle voice through meadows, it talks
Capturing my attention on morning walks
Inviting me along with flowers to take flight
to soar to the moon. I'd accept the invite
if I had pinion wings like eagles and hawks.
I listen to the wind as it howls without grace,
blows briny waves of saltwater in my face.
It speaks of love in such a solemn breath
In its stillness, sometimes I hear it mourning death.
Roses never smelled wilt quicker,
For the roses cry and since tears are salt water,
And salt dehydrates, the roses shrivel.
In addition, the whole plant might rebel against life
all because no one stopped and smelled the roses...
So if you ever spot a rose bush make a beeline for it
And sniff every single blossom.
Blood is thicker than water
Floods are quicker with rain
Some flow liquor from bottles
Most know liquor means pain
Peace is better than war
Lease is better than rent
Some have piggy's that's swollen
Most have piggy's that's spent
Grease ain't faster than lightning
Peace is hoping for war
Some don't care about conflict
Most don't know what it's for
All these hours he won’t get back
A clock on the wall, a heart with a crack
He watches the hours and how they pass by
Did you steal the stars from the midnight sky?
Long Hello’s but quicker goodbyes,
He carries them all, in his tears and his sighs
He runs from the light, he jumps at the noise
Of all his mistakes, dressed up as boys
He lives for the night, sleeps through the day
Because that’s how the pain all goes away.
He dies in his dreams, but no one knows
What those dreams are, or where they go.
Stones left unturned for those that seek truth among the urns.
I care not to seek out answers requiring a life’s sacrifice of family and name.
Secrets revealed. Kingdoms rise, then disappear. Buried beneath silicon dunes of unrefined glass. Reflected back a whisper of their past.
The abyss now lay claim to their lands.
Endless cyclical tides, wash ashore smashed relics of a time long forgotten.
Blending perfectly with tumbling mollusks and stone.
But, all too soon. Quicker than we think. Our bodies reduced to boney fragments. Charging towards some beach.
Stones left unturned, are left better unlearned. History unfolds lessons, that are left better; alone
If you were to ask me
Be the one to catch me, before i take the fall
You'd be the only one waiting, afterall
For whence i open my mouth and
Spill a sea of pills tinged with reddened liquor
I think you'd listen, then
If i took advice from any voice, it'd say 'give up'
But then again the only advice i ever took was the gurgles from down below
Onwards, outwards, suck inwards and hollow
If i gouged the gurgles, they'd say 'continue'
They'd count on me as i count every zero
They'd hold onto my head while i clutch the bottle
But, you'd catch me.
Incase i couldn't catch me
You'd advise me to give up
But i'd have fallen from your grasp
Onwards, downwards, i'd ignore the numbers from the liquor
For they'd spill from my mouth ever quicker
I'd have lost count, either way.
Hey, what did you want to say?
Buoyed up by the syntheses of the past,
idyllic murals of green hills open paths
to a healing truth.
What say the brown camels of Casablanca
to assassins nursing festered wounds of
new Karma?
Yesteryears recline on the shoulders of
a greying age, chanting songs to a
departing future — quicker on the heels of potentates.
Drums fade atop lonesome, hollow-crested
landscapes, accompanied by the invoked,
naked past.
"Eat your veggies," as a nipper I was told
but I'd hide 'em on me lap so Mum wouldn't scold
then all the quicker feed 'em to the dish-licker
before they were even cold
now I'm older not sadder but wiser
and do enjoy a tasty appetiser
they may appear to look like a pear
here's a myth I wish to quash
tho' they're fruit chayotes taste like
zucchini cucumber or squash
against the fence homegrown I grow me own
and me garden's full of chokos
"Choko-bloc," one might even say
I'll do a prickly pear or two
but still don't eat veggies to this day
Shall I compare thee to an elephant?
Of course not, you’re a motor car.
And if I put you in the zoo,
No-one would come and look at you.
You do more harm than him I fear,
For you pollute the atmosphere.
Though he blows methane in the air,
His carbon footprint can’t compare
To the ozone damage that you do,
With noxious gasses passing through.
But still you’ll be the choice for me.
You’re quicker between A and B
Hello god.
Hello god are you at home ?
I am reaching out in prayer as you haven't got a phone.
God I have tried to send an email and I have written you a letter
Then someone said to pray to god because its quicker and much better
God I'm reaching out to you in hope by means of prayer
God I have been waiting for a reply But I don't think that you are there
God I don't want material things I just need you to help me be strong
God to have you by my side In darker Times as my life moves along
Hello god are you home to help me with my Sorrow
God If you don't hear me today I will try a prayer again tomorrow.
The rules are simple
The rules are clear
Talk about the weather
But no politics here
Talk about the wind
Talk about the rain
But never, ever
Bring up social pain
Talk about the sunshine
Talk about the clouds
But don’t bring up
The political crowds
If you do
Best you prepare
Cause things get hot
And tempers will flare
Can’t no one speak
What they truly think
Cause fights break out
Quicker than a blink
Civil discourse
Is dead and buried
Replaced with rhetoric
And the hatred that’s carried
So talk about the weather
Talk about the sky
Regarding politics
No opinion is the lie
But if your position
You must speak of with pride
Be ready to burn
In that molten divide
Hot lava awaits
On the other side
There are things we take for granted
People used to do without
With a thousand-plus examples,
But these verses are about…
Fasteners we use for clothing,
Such as zippers, hooks or snaps,
Also buttonholes and buttons,
Buckles, laces, even straps.
Have you heard of Whitcomb Judson?
He and Gideon Sundback share
The invention of the zipper -
Just let Google take you there.
All my jeans and many jackets
Have that satisfying zip,
Which my ancestors, when dressing,
Never had a chance to grip.
Every fastener has background
Which may fascinate or bore,
But we owe some thanks to those
Who get us quicker out the door.
*Thanks to my husband for the title!
In fifth grade, I earned first place
statewide for violin
against the girl I half-loved—
her fingers quicker,
her lineage more illustrious—
but that day,
mine did not tremble.
She chose a piece
with fireworks and pitfalls—
something by Tchaikovsky—
I chose Barcarolle—
plainspoken, sweet,
a boat gliding through moonlight.
I played it without flaw.
She slipped once,
only once.
We both knew I’d won
on a grace note—
not brilliance, nor fire—
just a clean line
held steady
while hers faltered.
Afterward,
she turned from me
like a violin
tucked into its case.
A week later,
dad took us to a restaurant
with cloth napkins and candles,
to celebrate my victory.
He smiled too much,
and talked too loud,
and the wineglass
trembled in his hand
just before he threw up
on the checkered tablecloth.
He tried to pay,
but the card was declined.
The cashier cut it in half.
He gave them his gold watch
as a promise.
I wished I could just
be invisible,
and we left without dessert.
Two years later,
I buried my medal in the woods
and never played violin again.
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