Routines Poems - Poems about Routines

Breaking up the day into coffee and cabernet, energy and relaxation, sunrise and sunset routines. —by poet Sunrise coffee, percolating, poured into four seasons. As soon as the mug’s drained, brush pearly teeth, slide frothy floss, Touch the sky where the sun should be; the reach of xanthous rays. Leftover steam from coffee-up - blow on the sky; blue hue. Cabernet in late afternoon; cerise-cheers at sunset. Dress...

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I have got to wake up And I have got to get dressed, with eyeshadow With the intent of wings of a butterfly – my face, can it be beautiful A little while longer – while this aging body has not yet turned on me I need a face to match this body To feel good about myself Can I...

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some bright sequins of fun shined amidst dull threads of routines... art time none...

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Today I’m thankful for routines Because if part of my routine is doing something healthy… for me… that I adore… Then I’ll be doing something today… my future self will thank me for...

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I am a creature of habit…which fundamentally means… I find comfort in the way my life follows certain customs and routines. At the same time I am not averse to change…which fundamentally means… I also find comfort when my life follows new routines. I loved the daily routines when or children were growing up…I thought it was so cool from...

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Dark and ordinary mornings start, with haptic taps from my Apple watch, and a yawning stretch, way before dawn. I glance out my window, to check, the weather because that’s the spec, that decides whether, we’re outside, or we’re down to the gym inside. “Alexa, brew,” I compel my AI thank God, she understands, and my Keurig gurgles to life. I brush the ‘ol tusks...

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he sat there in his room gently shaking his head as he chalked ducks on the floor which then he carefully fed over in the corner watching him with glee the asylum keeper counted from one to ninety three ceaselessly repetetive each number chanted out sometimes in a whisper sometimes in a shout the warden made his rounds with his little boxes of pills each chosen for efficacy on...

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I Wet sky, I Must greet morning Rewards my eye Flying beings swarming II Birds, bats, locusts? Suddenly swarms sundered - Sundered by Comorants Usual places wet None for drying Winged variety morning Commuting to feed As employees do Routines go on Beautiful -- wet, too...

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The alarm interrupted my sleep with the urgency of lust or sudden inheritance - only to end up being neither. “Alexa, good morning,” I say, as I stretch. My room lights illuminate - in red mode - like a submarine lit for night routine and my Keurig springs to life. How could someone living my dull, slow, academic...

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It’s funny the different people you meet in life who follow a similar routine…walk with me a moment and I’ll tell you what I mean. Besides the first birds of the morning and the rabbits and other animals I greet along the way…there’s Bob who walks his dog at the same time every day. There’s the old...

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What do theologians call a life without events? The lights of my prison-like room dawn before sun's first blush. I open sand-papery eyes as my AI announces the morning. I begin the puppetry of morning routines: I study my pale inmate face as I polish the porcelain. I look less of a drowsy-angel than a zombie as I...

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I used to be excited on Fridays. I used to have interesting plans. My weekends were non-stop hectic, my time was in high demand. Now I live in repeated patterns, I’m a servant to boring routines. A fleshy teenage automaton, waiting for science to intervene. Oh, I'm readier than a girl-scout, I’m more prepared than a marine, I’ll be out the door like a cartoon...

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Caregiver's Whispers I know enough that age edged and this ailment agent ridged you onto this bed. A bus that never travel places But loops with different faces In the morning, afternoon, and night. While whose owners recite pay you with their backs and brains. Even though sometimes the physiology of your body and the chemistry of their day shear a slight fate to swear, it...

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I walk the same route every morning…from this path I do not stray because I have so many friends to greet whom I’ve met along the way. There are the trees that tower to the sky…many, I’m sure, older than me There’s the crickets and the owls and a host of other animals I hear but do not...

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Odd such moves Fill old grooves Time tells well My odd spell Cast of one Said and done Day by day My own way Notes said brief No sad grief Things to do Me and you That and this Cause for bliss I turn up To fill cup Each a gem Words I hem A short nap In my cap Verse and tale Like odd gale Wait just now To know how Words said plain Breathe new gain Like a...

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