We think that by keeping busy
and having a million and one things to do,
the Grim Reaper will walk on by and forget us.
By keeping our nose close to the grind,
our eyes won't meet and lock on his,
meanwhile ignoring the bell that sounds
for other unsuspecting souls.
In the meantime we keep on keeping
our nose to the grind and our eyes
locked on the targets of tasks at hand.
No end in sight to jobs to do
No time to die today
We're way too busy
Plans are endless
The list grows longer when
it should be winding down
It's a race to the finish line
and time is the stopwatch
with a fickle trigger finger
AP: 2nd place 2025
Idea of profit hope for snowflake March and November rain. Are you leading back to Rapid City or Pine Ridge?
I was in the halfway house in Mitchell. Did you visit the Corn Palace or the doll shop?
I heard you are in Aberdeen. I am still your dream?
Symmetrical preponderance stopwatch courthouse cuckoo clock
Spitting on gravestones North Minnesota
Idea of profit hope for snowflake March and November rain. Are you leading back to Rapid City or Pine Ridge?
I was in the halfway house in Mitchell. Did you visit the Corn Palace or the doll shop?
I heard you are in Aberdeen. I am still your dream?
Symmetrical preponderance stopwatch courthouse cuckoo clock
Spitting on gravestones North Minnesota
Freezing me you're a bend in time;
Forcing my arch making me lurch
I gasp for air in a sweaty panic;
My pulsing hourglass is about to pop;
Forcing my arch making me lurch;
Those delicate keyboard strokes;
A life stolen by your close fisted kiss;
I gasp for air in a sweaty panic,
where did my sense of reason go?
Your run has broken my stopwatch;
My pulsing hourglass is about to pop
to savor this juncture over and over;
For in your eyes nothing's left of Earth.
The moment you arrived I knew the hour that brought you here. You my newborn
child, was going to be loved til' the ends of earth. I was twenty-one years old and
the sun was very new. It barely creased our hearts so aware of each other
were we that it danced around us post-haste without a single thought to time.
Inside my little capsule of love
you were a well wrapped dove
cooing for attention, thereof;
They insisted on wheeling me out, rules they said. I was so high on life
I could probably have flown out of there with two left wings.
They pushed me out into the sun, where you and I both shared our
first breath, beneath an altruistic sky that shared only love.
A baby boy was born to me
he was all my eyes could see
I'd love him until eternity;
Time is a stopwatch that can handle, never a day goes by that I don't hold
his heart in mine. Today as I recall our 1st day I smile. I was blessed
with an angel that day, one that I could proudly call my son.
Feb 24, 2023
Sponsor Regina McIntosh
Contest Name It Means A Lot To Me
Until the Darkness Returns
David J Walker
This is taking forever
Said the wall clock
as if annoyed by time
Stop watching the time clock
The stopwatch shouted ironically
Unable to control itself
Big Ben is the natural God of London
Announcing Himself on the hour
In a cartoon voice
Its Ragtime bragged the rags
covered in discarded motor oil
distinguished by a depth of bad breath
My digital watch cost a fortune
But could do nothing
About time
Wind me up before dawn
Turn me on
Until the darkness returns
Had an epiphany this morning and yet, the screeching and scratching of the voices is always at hand.
The only thing I can trust this day and age is the walls talking to me. Ceremoniously, I want my consciousness to die.
Alas, it lies wake and unfolds the lashes concocted. From the whips of a tormented psyche.
I was alive and well this morning. The clicking of a stopwatch is the split frames of time that rip apart my wretched soul.
Part ways with the thought of living the days without the switch. Up, down, left, right. Goodnight.
Tik Tok
Stop the clock
As I for one
Cannot
Forever be on a stopwatch
Always
Dancing to Tik Tok
My time now though is nearly up
So I rewind the clock
Then pull out the stop
Tik Tok, Tik Tok,
But sooner or later
The dance will stop..
DAMO
Time is precious time is priceless
Every second ticks a minute
Every minute ticks an hour
Every stroke towards the midnight hour.
Born of our mother but still on the clock
Like the pushing of a button on life's stopwatch.
Starting along being nurtured in life as the hands of the clock ticks by in sight
Growing by the hour and learning every day
Watching the hands of time passing day by day
Moving on in life and time passes on each year the clock ticks on celebrating a new year
Now as we get older and the clock goes tick tock you'll soon come to realise that the stopwatch will stop.
Below are 14 footles, separate and distinct, with their own titles in bold font. A footle fest!
Sympathetic
Ben-Hur
Been her
Paving the Way
Guitar
Get tar
Muliebral Outlook
Female
Email
Origin
Sin's source
Seine's source
Borgana Interior
Driver
Dry fur
RN A Cappella
Nursing
Nurse sing
Comic Vowel
Funny
Fun "E"
Blarney Stone
Irish
I wish
Out of Time
Stopwatch
Stopped watch
Head to Toe
Dress you
Dress shoe
Canyon Carnival
Engorge
In gorge
Castle Restoration
Remote
Re-moat
Insomnia
Coffee
Cough fee
Beautiful
Sorry
Sari
2/8/2020
Poetry form: Footle -Just a reminder, a footle is a 2 line, 2 syllable trochaiac monometer poem with an integral title suitable for light, witty, pertinent, topical verse. To make it more fun, I also try to have the second line have a similar sound as the first line.
So there! Now you know.
I call him Clarence,
for no especial reason.
He announces in a soothing
if somewhat stilted
synthesised tone,
'The time is now ten a.m.'
He will oblige again at ten thirty
and then again at eleven.
Such is the mobile phone:
it gives you an alarm,
it is your stopwatch,
it takes your photographs,
updates your social media,
gets you to your online bank.
It is also useful as a phone.
But Clarence is special:
Clarence talks to me.
A voice in the otherwise
silent room
where only I sit
with troubled thoughts,
the analgesic spirit
a constant tang in my throat.
Clarence punctuates time with me.
tercets in ABA rhyme
Clouds are blocking out the sun.
I reach for hat and raincoat,
gotta take my morning run.
Rain breezes by, it's just a mist;
but whirling in an angry squall,
wind pokes and jabs me with his fists.
Bidding to outrun dark clouds,
the sun seems to have taken sides
as we break through their shrouds.
Turning 'round, I am drenching wet
but I cannot fault the rain.
On this record run; it's pure sweat.
No excuse can cripple my stride
not the rain clouds, stopwatch, or wind.
Light breaks through; will power is my guide.
written November 15, 2016
Time is precious time is priceless
Every second ticks a minute
Every minute ticks an hour
Every stroke towards the midnight hour.
Born of our mother but still on the clock
Like the pushing of a button on life's stopwatch.
Starting along being nurtured in life as the hands of the clock ticks by in sight
Growing by the hour and learning every day
Watching the hands of time passing day by day
Moving on in life and time passes on each year the clock ticks on celebrating a new year
Now as we get older and the clock goes tick tock you'll soon come to realise that the stopwatch will stop.
Impressionist Poem
time clock
stopwatch
still, life moves
Pecking quick, a parting kiss
Pumping legs, a train to miss
Lovers waving, strangers pass
Tears and hugs a whistle blast
Scanning papers on news stands
Pats on backs while shaking hands
Averted eyes and hurried walk
Can’t stop, won’t wait, no time to talk
Pushchairs, wheelchairs, screaming kids
Cardboard coffee cups with lids
Departure times on TV screens
Red light, amber, go is green
Somewhere, nowhere, never speak
Laughing, crying, faces bleak
Turned up collars, downcast heads
Business suits and tardy threads
Briefcase, suitcase, traveling bag
Folded papers ,glossy Mags
Hustle, bustle, teeming by
Oblivious to earth and sky
Don’t stop don’t look and don’t ask why
Ticket punched and journey paid
Click the stopwatch
Now you’re dead
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