Time Is Of The Essance
The days pass from one to another
coming and going as the melting snow
days turn to weeks and weeks turn to months
the clock spins faster with every passing second
you cant rewind the past
you cant speed up the future
sometimes all you can do is press play
poem by Damien Weber
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2 Weeks
14 Days left
336 hours
Until the end of this chapter
The chapter of hell in my life
2 weeks until I leave
8 hours a day
8 hours of hell in this school
Dealing with ignorance driven by people
Pushing back judgmental walls
After all 8 years in this prison
All I have is 2 weeks,14 days,336 hours left inside this hellhole
Now I can’t figure out what to do
Skip graduation, or stand on the stage and face the music?
That answer has left me then came back
In just 2 week I’ll be gone never to set foot inside again
In just 14 days I’ll leave and never turn back
In just 336 hours, my face will be erased from this place
2 weeks until I graduate from 8th grade
Why now, it must end sooner
In just 2 months I’ll be in high school
2 weeks…
14 days… 336 hours…
The memory of me will be gone
poem by Marcellus Watts
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How Time Feels Without You
Seconds are like days
Minutes are like weeks
Hours are like months
Days are like years
Weeks are like centuries
When I'm away from you
poem by Steve Yeager
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Rewrite
You know, there are these dreary days,
When a melancholic mood holds me in its sway,
Probably something we get as we age, hey?
-
In this twilight hours, we forget tomorrow,
And look back at the days, weeks, and years of long ago.
Look back, and utter a flat, "Oh."
-
Oh, all those things I could've done better or changed.
The walls I could have torn down, a few more broken chains,
Little and big things, everywhere, we wish we could change.
-
If only there was a life remote, press rewind,
Go back, and then our history rewrite.
Rewind and rewrite, our actions of those fateful days and nights.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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8 Weeks
8 weeks to live
8 weeks to die
8 weeks is all they had
8 weeks to do the things they never did
8 weeks of fighting
8 weeks of trying to fit everything in
8 weeks of pain, suffering, and confusion
8 weeks of faking a smile
8 weeks of repetition
8 weeks of knowing they were nearing the end
8 weeks of love from friends and family
8 weeks…the shortest/longest, most hurtful/helpful weeks of their lives
8 weeks later…knowing they’ll never be able to do the things they’ve always wanted to
8 weeks later…now realizing he’ll never see her walk, at graduation nor down the aisle
8 weeks later…close friends and family now in shambles
8 weeks later…close friends and family never closer
8 weeks later…here we are
poem by Anthony Martello
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Around the corner
I wont tell you the stories he has told me,
or the reason why for weeks and months
he couldn't sleep.
About the walk around the corner,
he kept walking round that corner,
walking round that corner
for days and months and weeks.
That isn't my story to tell you, only his;
but I can tell you that he walks around
that corner through his days
and through his weeks.
I can tell you that he marched them home
leading from the front,
right down through the Guildhall
to the sound of thudding drum.
I can tell you that he marched all those
young boys home.
All of them, but one.
poem by Diana Rosser
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How it begins
Two opposites meet
Is a pity I am not accurate biologically
My aim is to inspire logically
Infancy is where it all begins
Childhood is mandatory
Formal education is compulsory
How it begins?
It‘s start with a dream
Manifestos into a vision
Requires a little bit of passion
Typically the primary years are similar
Avoid cold, do your homework sounds familiar
Days pass-by, weeks pass-by, months and years
Explore life explore nature get fascinated by pears
Eventually graduate if you put effort to your aptitude
Old adage about your attitude determining your altitude
How it begins?
You move to next stage called adulthood
Big dreams you want to elevate out of the hood
Get a nice job, statistically classified with those who can afford
Discover you not complete on your own
Get a spouse. Go all romantic than comes the up and down
Days pass-by, weeks pass-by, months and years
Explore life explore nature get fascinated by pears
Eventually have kids then; squeeze them into your budget
How it begins?
You discover there is more to offer the world
Conflict, disappointment becomes part of you
Days pass-by, weeks pass-by, months and years
You not fond of mirrors any more
All the lessons you learned become your reality
Change in colour of your hair
Nostalgic attacks!
You only worry about your off-springs future
How it begins?
Time to look back and say wow
Pity I cannot define life
You be lucky if you die with your wife
poem by Magodi Khutso Makaleng
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The summer it snowed
Blue skies
yards of green
flowers of mulitude
among such wonderess gifts
I walk towards my ever nearing
winter
My lungs full of dirty snow
I hear not the singing of birds
but the calling of my black forcast
Summer
kids play
boats sail
I succum
no longer able to shovel
the snow away
Yet in peace in tread
for months are now weeks
and soon weeks will be days
For me spring brought fall
and the summer brought
snow
and the winter will bring
my forever peace
poem by Vincent Armone
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Benign Time
There was a young man called Ben,
Who liked to watch the clock
It made him a nervous wreck
He developed a 'tick' not a tock
As he wondered the streets with his friend
Every minute he heard passing by
He lost count of the days and the weeks
And the blurr of the past made him cry
How could time be timeless
When every minute another day past?
Sick of being stuck
He threw down the clock
Under a truck going past
Now, 'If all time is really eternal'
who gives a damn about days
He'd forgotten the year
And went off for a beer
And rolled home in heavenly haze!
T.S.Eser GEEZER
poem by Yvette Smith
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Purpose In Life
Some people as they pass me by, live each day and know not why,
Why they deal with the daily strife, or the true meaning of their life.
Their purpose in life is not clear, or why on earth they’re even here.
Many of them accepted the lie, that you go nowhere when you die.
To then everyday is the same, only each day has a different name.
And the weeks, they don’t change, a different week is still the same.
As their weeks turn into months, they question life’s true relevance.
And as the months turn into years, the end of this life slowly nears.
There is nothing in their past, or nothing ahead they think will last.
If any of this seems to describe, any feelings that you have inside,
You can instead fill your life, with a purpose that is found in Christ.
He will enter your life my friend, and give you direction and an end.
This end is only found in Christ, for this end in Him is Eternal Life.
The direction that your life will take, fills the void, make no mistake.
Friend, even if your life is amiss, Christ will give it Eternal Purpose.
Make Christ your Lord and Savior, and He’ll give you a new nature.
You’ll have no more empty days, as Christ fills the void with praise.
Friend you’ll have no Misgivings, as life in Christ is life worth living.
For when you are Heaven bound, a new joy on this earth is found.
And far from that eternal abyss, in the end you enter Eternal Bliss.
Last Three Weeks 5-11-09
The last three weeks are:
crazy
heaktic
busy
tireing
exaugh sting
The last three weeks are:
full of test
parties
exams
food
movies
The last three weeks are:
exciting
emotional
no seniors, well for a week
losts of homework
no homework
The last three weeks mean
that school is almost out,
start counting down the days,
graduation,
awards,
SUMMER IS ALMOST HERE! !
Mirabeau Bridge
Under Mirabeau Bridge the river slips away
And lovers
Must I be reminded
Joy came always after pain
The night is a clock chiming
The days go by not I
We're face to face and hand in hand
While under the bridges
Of embrace expire
Eternal tired tidal eyes
The night is a clock chiming
The days go by not I
Love elapses like the river
Love goes by
Poor life is indolent
And expectation always violent
The night is a clock chiming
The days go by not I
The days and equally the weeks elapse
The past remains the past
Love remains lost
Under Mirabeau Bridge the river slips away
The night is a clock chiming
The days go by not I
poem by Guillaume Apollinaire
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This Morning
Nothing left to feel
Nothing more to do
Nothing left to give
Nothing more in you
Nothing else to have or hold
Nothing left, but time to go
Time to go
Years go by
Didn't really say that much at all
And moments just fly
Didn't ever really touch at all
Weeks always run down
Didn't really get that close at all
And days, days fall out
Didn't ever really know at all
And then we're here in a room too clean and too bright
She stares at you for an hour
You stare into the light
For one last hour in the room
So mean and so white
I stare at her in this room as she stares into the night
Nothing left to feel
Nothing more to do
Nothing left to ask
Nothing more of you
Nothing else to share or show
Nothing left but time to go
In his eyes as we turn no eternity of life
In his eyes as we turn no infinity of why
In his eyes as we turn no beautiful goodbye
In his eyes as we turn...nothing but tears
In his eyes as we turn...nothing but tears
(spoken:) I couldn't understand too much of what was being said
In a matter of minutes
Peacefully so slow
I had to think to breathe
My heart burst
We moved in silence really slowly away from the world
As we drove a strange silence
That moment
Nothing will ever be the same
Nothing will ever be the same
Nothing will ever be the same
Days fall out
Weeks always run down
Moments just fly
Weeks go by
And then we're here
And then we're here in a room too clean and too bright
I stare at you for an hour
You stare into the light
For one last hour in the room so mean and so white
You stare at me in this room as I stare into the night
Nothing left to feel
Nothing more to do
Nothing more to take
Nothing more from you
Nothing else to need or know
There's nothing left at all...but time to go
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yeah, about sixteen to twenty weeks a year. For example, we can do America in six or seven weeks. You can do Europe in three weeks; England in two weeks. South America you could do in three weeks; Asia you could do in three weeks.
quote by Warren Cuccurullo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Play
I could wait all night and day,
To go to a party sit down and wait,
Give my request to the DJ,
Cuz my song hes gotta play.
And when i hear that beat,
I get my body up out my seat
I grab a guy and move my feet,
He's playin my song!
Play,
Come on play that song,
Play it all night long,
Just turn it up and turn it on!
Play,
Come on Dj play that song.
You know it turns me on.
(DJ just play that song)
Just turn it up and turn it on!
Dj just play that song,
Cuz i wanna be dancin all night long
Just play my, play my, play my,
Play my, play my favorite song!
I dont care if everybody's gone.
Turn it up cuz it turns me on.
Keep dancin all night long,
Feels so right that it cant be wrong.
I get chills up and down my spine,
Whenever I hear that song of mine.
When it stops better press rewind.
Let me hear it one more time!
Play,
Come on play that song,
Play it all night long,
Cuz I wanna be dancin' all night long!
Play,
Come on Dj play that song.
You know it turns me on.
(DJ just play that song)
Cuz I wanna be dancin' all night long!
I just wanna dance.
Is that a crime?
Alright then.
Play..Play..Play..Play..Play
Now Mr. DJ,
I've asked you three times..
Play My Mother f*ckin song!!
Play,
Come on play that song,
Play it all night long,
Just turn it up and turn it on!
Play,
Come on Dj play that song.
You know it turns me on.
(DJ just play that song)
Just turn it up and turn it on
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Little Baby Fell Asleep
Our little baby fell asleep,
And may not wake again
For days and days, and weeks and weeks;
But then he'll wake again,
And come with his own pretty look,
And kiss Mamma again.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Come again another day
We plan
Act, but not always adequately
So we run short
Of what we planned
We say
Come again another day
We will accomplish
What we have in our mind
Comes that day
We act, not adequately again
We console ourselves
Come again another day
Days pass by
Turn into weeks
Months and years
We keep telling
Come again another day
We never get that another day
Entire lifetime
We spend in search of
That another day
All of us know
Which day is that day
And which day has no
Another day
No one knows
How far or near that day is
So
Plan, strictly adhere to the plan
Accomplish your tasks
Then and there
Even if they fall short of perfection
Before landing on that day
When you cannot any longer be telling
Come again another day
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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You saved me....
I walked down a endless black tunnel.
I gave up hope and I gave up looking.
I wasn't truly happy.
I wore fake smiles.
There wasn't much reason for me to go to school.
I would walk for hours.
Hours turned to days.
Days turned to weeks.
Weeks turned to months of walking in my lonely despair.
After a few months I began to see light.
When i surfaced you were the first one to catch my attention.
You pulled me out.
You made me happy.
You gave me reason to go to school.
You brought me out of my lonely despair.
And for that I thank you, and I will love you till the end of time maybe even longer.
poem by Kendra Swan
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11 Weeks
11 weeks of war and 11 weeks of peace,
11 weeks of love and 11 weeks of pain,
11 weeks of sorrow ans 11 weeks of my mind that writes;
But i need hot chili pepper from Chile and,
A rosted turkey from Turkey to rest my mind on your love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Faithful Person
Degrees of the planet I await from the sun,
A careful blend of drink that is drunk,
By the skin and the brain,
Less of the monument I stank.
Doctor likes the request to be made,
That a solitude is about,
A faithful person is always betrayed
Into the causes he is at bout.
The disease is procured by the prevention
I detest in the initial phases.
It will cure you, my love, of all dimension,
I detest the treatment of these days.
Days and nights, weeks and months,
Go by and by like a talking nightmare,
Foreign to the power of the sevenths
Of the weeks that are day-care.
I think it ridiculous of your jolt,
I’d like to think it a blessing,
That I am adult,
And it delivered a caressing.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Mirabeau bridge
Under the Mirabeau bridge flows the Seine
And all our loves
Why does it make so plain
That any joy must always follow pain
Let the night come the hour sound clear
The days all pass I’m still here
Our hands intertwined let’s stay face to face
While far below
The bridge of our arms strays
The languid wave of each endless gaze
Let the night come the hour sound clear
The days all pass I’m still here
Our love drifts away like these waters flow
Love drifts away
And our lives are so slow
With Hope more violent than we could know
Let the night come the hour sound clear
The days all pass I’m still here.
The days and weeks pass in a ceaseless train
But no past time
Or past love comes again
Under the Mirabeau bridge flows the Seine
Let the night come the hour sound clear
The days all pass I’m still here.
poem by Guillaume Apollinaire
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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