One Simple Rule
As we get older time races by,
years seem like weeks,
weeks melt into days,
and soon they are gone
on their merry way.
It doesn’t have to be like that
if you follow one simple rule,
and that is to live your life
every second to the full.
28 January 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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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! !
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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The Earthen Jar In The Garden During The Rain
it is there
it has a mouth gaping
filling itself
with the rain
this is a rainy
day and it
will rain here
for weeks
the jar takes
all the water
drinks it like
it is a thirsty
woman
yet just like us
it can never be full
even for weeks
or for years
there is always
a spill
of what is full
there is always
the emptiness
even in
the physical fullness
the jar is there
alone
it is raining and it
will rain for weeks
the jar never breaks
it is
alone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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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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A Thought For Your Anniversary
Don't count your decade
By the days that fade
Don't count your years
By the falling tears
Don't count your weeks
By the days that were bleak
Don't count your days
By the trouble's ways
Instead count your decades
By the things you have made
Count your years
By joys and cheers
Count your weeks
When you helped out a meek
And count your days
By cheers and prayers
That was sent for both of you
Along with God's love that is true
Because you're starting another year
Of peace and blessings, love and care.
Happy 4th Anniversary Sister
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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Nine Weeks
Because I don’t want to know that you are going
And I’m sick of ignoring the problem of absence
I’ll miss you so much and that truth burns
So just let me be so I can prepare
For nine weeks of hell and
63 days of isolation
Because friends aren’t always enough
We grow fonder, in rage
We grow fonder, in sorrow
We grow fonder from lust
Nine weeks of hell
And 63 days of isolation
Few days of joy within them
I want this to end
I want this to stop
But you must leave
And we must suffer
We grow older apart
And for now we are children, ignorant and oblivious
To the chore of true love,
And the respect of each other's maturity
poem by Casey Stewart
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Confidence doesn't come out of nowhere. It's a result of something... hours and days and weeks and years of constant work and dedication.
quote by Roger Staubach
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Living On A Fixed Income
I've come up with a plan,
To help budget my fixed income.
And I am sure,
Those like myself...
Who can barely exist from month to month,
Will find this to be exactly what they have been seeking.
I have decided to eliminate the last two weeks of each month.
And I awakened realizing,
How much time, money and energy I could save.
I've taken all my calendars...
And just cut away the last two weeks from each month.
Not only am I feeling better about it,
I'm already planning to take a vacation...
With the excess savings.
Who knew how simple it could be,
To make living on a fixed income...
Such a wonderful experience.
And with those weeks I've cut away?
I've decided to donate them to people complaining,
How they wish they had more time to do 'stuff'.
Not only will they have more time on their hands...
Perhaps they will stop complaining, period!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ten Weeks and Two Days
Ten weeks and two days without a drink
And I can't say I miss it yet
I don't feel the absence of anything
More it is a presence I perceive
How much has changed in that time
How many worlds have risen and fallen
Empires of my folly
Grief and joy and grief again
And the question I'm afraid to ask
Where will I be,
Ten weeks and two days from now...
Without a drink, perhaps
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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What Will I Do / For The Weeks In Traveling
WHAT WILL I DO/ FOR THE WEEKS IN TRAVELING
What will I do
For the weeks in Traveling
Without a Computer
An Internet
An ability to write
To post my poems and thoughts
To leave more material
For remembrance
More of myself
For Posterity?
What will I do
When I cannot pretend
I am making myself live
Beyond my lifetime
By writing?
What will I do when
I have to just live
Present to present
Without any sense
That something of this passing time
Will endure?
What will I do
When I do not have
This little way
of making meaning in my life
I have now,
However questionable and troubled
This is?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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My Younger Days/ Part II
Indeed time is a factor.
Years, Months, Weeks, Days, Hours and Seconds.
Before our eyes we learn about life.
A boat with no ocean is still a boat.
Time without meaning is still a life.
We have to answer for it all.
Yet, we still marvel at what could have been.
What should have been.
And what remains to be seen.
Misfortune will sometimes take a break.
Guidance, Understanding, Compassion and Love.
These are things that are never truely pondered.
It wasn't apart of alot of our childhoods.
But yet, it was....just never expressed enough.
So we grow, change and sometimes stay the same.
Looking for answers from others around.
Guided by fate and cards we are dealt.
Choices we make, good or bad, are still choices.
Not a sob story, O'Boo Woo, cry for me.
Just another American kid thrown in the mix.
I'm older and have retirement for now, for now.
My younger days, I could have been anything.
Anything............................ ..................................
poem by Gulliver Gimble
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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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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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Relaxing
All year you wait for your holidays
and when they finally arrive,
time steals them so quickly
you wonder where they’ve gone.
The two weeks disappear as quickly
as you can snap your fingers.
At the beginning of your holiday,
you have so much to pack in.
You rush around here and there.
It is harder than being at work,
this trying to have some fun.
Yet we are relaxing we say,
running around in circles everyday.
At the end of the two weeks,
we are exhausted by all our fun
and look forward to work
and slowing down a pace.
That may sound crazy,
but that is exactly what we do.
24 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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We've got to practice three weeks, get the kinks out, then we've got to practice three weeks with the crew, and then go out for four months. It's just a huge chunk of time out of life.
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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