Short Routines Poems

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

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Routines: like morning
Coffee…donuts,…are what keeps
Me from goin’ nuts
...

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In the morning
We say goodbye to each other,
At night we return --
This routine is comfortable,
One day it will be different....

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I
strange times, new routines
ancient work: watching plants grow 
blessing then too much - rain

II
pumpkins will be fun
Never grew them myself - till now
Sleepless for that mold!...

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Possibly the most difficult battle I've ever fought.
Timeless struggles of my mind.
Scenes of human depravity lurk behind my closed eyes.
Disturbs my daily routines and demands attention....

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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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Bedtime Routines

A sly glance at his bathroom routine
Reveals clearly what the night would mean
If he reaches for mouthwash
He’s coming for her, oh gosh!
She promptly wipes her under arms clean

Written on:04/26/2017...

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forced solitude
compulsory confinement
freedom from the sun

tall walls
large locks
glum guards

the soundless flow of time
yawning years
freedom of thoughtlesness

timed routines
in a timeless atmosphere
feigned freedom...

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Unexpected glance,
Eyes arrest my weary heart,
While Restoring warmth,

Absorbing toxins,
Diluting daily routines,
Filtering the old.

Awaken by bliss,
Suddenly infected with
Comfort evermore.

By: Sabina Nicole
1-28-12
contest: romantic/Love...

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Must
bring
order
to my mind,
my household, my life.
Each step builds on what came before.
Start small, add rise-and-shine routines, plus night-time habits.
Watch for amazing results in a short span of time for achieving orderliness!...

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routines
     always
       stagnate
suffocate
    as they
        envelop
dreams
    in
       silent
         confections:
beauty
&dignity
     disappear
in
abstract
uniformity
     consumed
     by
     chance,
dwindle,
diminish
die
without
     purpose...

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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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Would it matter if,
Days were twenty five hours,
and weeks were eight days? 

Time flies, travels, runs.
Not enough time in the day
Sleep, get up and go

Routines, set patterns
Things to do, see, eat, explore
Not everything's done

The to-do list's long
Never ends; continuous
Keep going, keep on...

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If you love someone, you make love in other ways.
A glance, a touch, a smile.
Not just in bed.
You don't just have sex.
Making love should have no routine,
planned routines get boring and stale.
We were so spontaneous and adventerous,
finding new places and ways,
 in the precious time we had....

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A simple rhyme for a very dark time
  The road back, sure, an arduous climb
Tentative steps, cautious probes
  Sporting still protective wardrobes

Yet before long, like forests scorched
  Creature habitats by fire torched
Soon enough we'll be scampering gaily
  Reveling in routines familiar daily...

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Grown with a poisoned mind
Dirty and loaded with rubbish
I am always prepared for a run
To disappear and to vanish
For those around who expect
Routines to adjust
Though paths are to clash

Despite blood that relates
And similar faces
Minds that are poisoned
Are loaded with rubbish
And are not to adjust...

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One thing that I really do hate
Is when people are constantly late
For it isn’t a crime
To arrive right on time - 
Even early, so no one must wait.

Yet some folks have a glitch in their genes;
Thus, they’re tardy in all their routines.
I have learned to prepare
So when I arrive where
We’re to meet, I won’t make any scenes....

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You are just not, concerned about growth 
You do what you want, but don't push envelopes
Won't go beyond, or outside comfort zones 

You are a man that's stagnant 

You stick to routines, and do the same things
Refuse to do anything new, yeah that's weak
Can not push boundaries,  as a creature of habit 

You are a man that's stagnant...

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Motherhood is good
Yet I feel suffocated in it's daily hood
Choked by chores 
Burden by it's routines
Bombarded by everyday responsibilities
Motherhood is hard
Yet it makes me glad
The smiles I see
The hugs I receive
The children I bear
The children I rear
Motherhood is the evidence that love will last
It's what I call the tremendous blast...

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R--Resigned or laid-off from work?

E--Every wish and prayer  dedicated to job search;

C--Chopping unnecessary expenses,

S--Saving money for priotized spending__

S--Surviving the financial meltdown,

I--It was not easy to find money or food!

O--Our year of recession kept us busy with simple home jobs,

N--Necessary carefree routines.

chipepo lwele...

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The tourist shops have lots of stuff
Nobody really needs,
But that's an observation that
Nobody really heeds.

For people on vacation spend 
Much more when they're away 
On items that, if seen at home,
Within the store would stay.

Though really, isn't that the point
Of traveling afar -
Detaching from routines to be
The way you think you are?...

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Nothing to say
do beyond robotic routines
…beyond eluding erosion

Something to say
do beyond repetitive rituals
…beyond evading entropy

Nowhere to go
hide behind cacophonous clowns
…behind vehement vaudevillians

Somewhere to go
hurtle beyond comedic ciphers
…beyond vindictive vipers

Nothing
Something
Nowhere 
Somewhere…
is
Everywhere...

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Soul needs nourishment as a plant.
You have to hear good music and read
a master piece book.
Hear only good conversations. Don't see
sensationalist images.

Uplift your soul with taking some in the
day to reflex.
Your soul will be gratified with these
routines.
If you don't take care of your soul, you
will be living dead.

Nayda Ivette
8-29-2015...

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yesterday I walked home in the rain
and forgot 
for thirty minutes
that I was grown up
and in heels, business dressed	
and straightened hair,
and remembered
something free
locked into the 
sky like moonstone
murky and luminous
a tousled beauty buried
in routines and duties
no umbrella, thirty minutes
a woman in transit
without belonging
tax free....

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With gifts to buy and then to wrap
And cookies needing baking,
The holidays become a trap
Of joy we’re sometimes faking.

We have to follow set routines
To honor our traditions,
But often what that really means
Is life with impositions.

Many love this time of year
And find it fun and merry
But, Scrooge-like as I may appear,
Does it annoy me? Very!
...

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