Poem about delay
Salary is late.
The train is late.
The boss is late.
Bills are late.
I'm late.
They are late.
People start families late.
When you should be a grandma,
you're a mom then.
Why?
Because everything is delayed.
Late for work.
Then late for everything.
And so on.
No one respects anyone.
If the salary was not late,
I wouldn't be late with bills.
If the train wasn't late,
even the boss wouldn't be late for work.
When they are all late.
We are all late too.
If you weren't late for work,
moms would be moms,
grandmas would be grandmas.
Look at the clock.
Try not to be late.
Then everything will come when it's time.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about shoes
?
I'm on the bus and I'm watching the passengers.
Why did I start with a question mark?
I wonder.
I wonder why I'm watching their sneakers.
Why am I looking at their shoes?
I can't believe what I'm seeing.
Shoes and sneakers talk.
They speak louder than words.
I see everything.
I see everything about them.
Who they are and what they do.
Everything.
Red heels.
I knew she was a businesswoman.
Green All stars.
I knew he was a stylish guy.
Old leather shoes.
Polished.
I knew he was an old gentleman.
I also saw something terrible.
It's cold and she's wearing slippers.
I didn't see anyone's face.
I don't know them.
And the shoes told me a lot.
Shoes are your mirror.
So shine your shoes.
Every day.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about coincidence
They say it's destiny.
I do not believe.
I believe we make our own way.
We build our own destiny.
How did you plant,
that's how you will reap.
Or if you planted,
then you will reap.
He won the lottery.
They say it's destiny.
I would say otherwise.
He paid and received.
There is no gain if you only dream.
You have to do something.
But life has shown me that it might be different.
They say life writes novels.
The best stories are life stories.
Something is out of our hands.
Something we simply cannot control.
These are the moments when we realize, that nothing is accidental.
So let life guide you.
Life will tell its own story.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about self-evaluation
Have you ever rated someone?
Have you ever thought about what you said?
Have you ever wondered if maybe you weren't strict?
Have you ever wondered if maybe you weren't fair?
Have you ever evaluated yourself?
I do it every day!
I evaluate myself and others.
The most difficult task.
A task when you evaluate yourself.
It is more difficult than when you evaluate others.
But we should do it.
And we should do it often.
You can't go wrong.
You have to be strict.
You must not be modest.
You can't add anything.
You can't even take anything away.
The hardest question is what are your flaws?
My faults are my virtues!
What do you say?
When you first evaluate yourself,
then you can also evaluate others.
Well done to all righteous judges!
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about modesty
I didn't expect anything that day.
An ordinary day.
Sunday.
After a long summer vacation.
After a long break.
We scheduled a piano lesson.
As always, coffee was waiting for me.
And notes on the piano.
Bach, Minuet.
We are getting ready for the performance.
And what a performance.
First public performance.
You need to overcome your nervousness.
We practice.
We are concentrated.
We are getting better and better.
Line by line.
Dynamics, then tempo.
Bach's Minuet is rehearsed.
Well done for the professor.
Well done for the student too.
The prize is a huge tip.
I have never received such praise.
It was so big, that I felt uncomfortable.
They insisted, I had no choice.
I couldn't refuse.
Surprise someone with your modesty.
Pass on your knowledge.
Then expect the unexpected!
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about an explosion
BOOM!
Did you hear the bang?
Did you hear how loud the explosion was?
Did you see the big cloud in the shape of a heart?
It can be seen from all corners of the world!
It can be seen from the farthest point on the planet!
An explosion, but no smoke.
An explosion, but no one was injured.
A blast, but everyone's happy.
An explosion everyone would want.
The explosion everyone dreams of.
A blast that takes two.
An explosion that is also permitted by law.
How come there is no smoke?
How are there no injuries?
How come everyone is happy?
How can I wish you an explosion?
I guess I should wish you luck.
Because it is love explosion.
So strong that the earth shakes!
Long live Love!
Long live the love explosion!
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about sounds
Every night,
when everything goes quiet,
when you hear your thoughts,
a frenzy is going on in my head.
Real madness!
Madness of sounds.
A normal person doesn't hear that.
I, the musician, hear everything.
Motorcycle from the street.
A buzz of young people in front of the building.
The door creaks.
An out of tune piano.
Wrong note on the violin.
Baby cry.
The sound of plates and pans.
Arguing neighbor.
The buzzing of a mosquito.
Barking dogs.
I started to write down.
I translate every sound into notes.
It's a cheerful composition.
Composition of the 21st century.
A song about sounds!
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about warrior ladies
She didn't know anything about crypto.
She didn't know anything about read.cash.
And when she started, she still didn't know anything.
She didn't talk about it.
She didn't bother.
She just stomped forward.
Every day she wrote.
She wrote and learned from her mistakes.
Every comment, every error pointed out helped her.
Every article was her victory.
Victory, so great.
She has a lot of subscribers now.
Lots of subscribers who faithfully follow her work.
She learned so much about writing, that now new writers learn from her.
They learn and write about her.
Because she wins rewards!
Rewards and smiles.
She is fearless.
Always proud.
Strong as a dragon.
A woman.
A writer.
A warrior.
She is you.
And you are her.
Dedicated to all the ladies at read.cash. To the warrior ladies. 😊
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about confession
I sit alone and think.
I'm thinking if I should...
I'm thinking who to...
I'm thinking about how to confess.
Is confession a must?
Is confession a relief?
Is confession a burden to someone to whom we confess?
When should I say everything?
When should I tell everything to someone there?
If I confess,
that means I'm admitting something.
I have some questions.
Some answers bother me.
I am struggling!
They usually confess to a priest.
It's probably easier for them,
because they don't know him.
I do not think so.
I'm thinking about writing a book.
My book.
Let my story be a confession.
Open your soul.
Write down everything that bothers you.
Paper endures everything.
Confess!
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about pride
How proud are you?
You've probably been in a situation where you have to choose to be proud.
I'm so proud that I lost part of my work.
I worked well.
I worked without fail.
I worked sometimes overtime.
I worked for free.
And today my pride worked.
It worked and it doesn't leave me alone.
I couldn't resist saying something.
I know I shouldn't have.
But it was stronger than me.
My pride wouldn't allow me to remain silent.
Someone else got my part of the job.
Someone who doesn't have a degree to be able to work.
Just because the director says so.
And the law?
Who obeys the law?
Well, I guess he should respect.
Director.
And I am, as he sad, last chance.
I was not silent.
Pride did not let me be silent.
I don't need a job like that if I'm the last chance.
I took my pride with me and left.
Proud and happy.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about loneliness
I was born alone.
I will die alone.
Who knows what it's good for.
It just has to.
He was guided by those words.
He didn't protest much.
He didn't even try very hard.
Whenever someone approached him, he was polite.
But politely, he avoided it.
He respected others.
He did not approach them.
And he sought understanding from them.
I listened to his loneliness.
I listened to why that was.
It is not in human nature.
I found out.
I let my son approach him.
I knew I would get some response.
When he learned the harsh truth from his doctor, that he can't have children,
he retreated from regular life.
He didn't want to have anyone by his side,
because he could not leave offspring.
Over time, he learned to live alone.
So be persistent.
Find out what bothers someone who is alone.
I made it.
My son and him are friends now.
And he is not alone anymore.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about a best friend
He never ran away.
He always faithfully waits in front of the store.
He never got mad at me.
Even if I leave him for the whole day with a neighbor.
Always stands in front of me.
He always comes to my defense when someone bigger comes along.
He never got into a fight.
Always wagging his tail.
He always wants to play.
No matter how hungry he is,
He always waits patiently for his turn.
He is not like the others.
He likes cats.
He is not like the others.
He loves children.
He walks proudly with his tail up.
He's always waiting for me at the front door.
He takes the leash when it's time to pee.
He is always in the mood to play and jump.
He's always in the mood to be cuddled.
My best friend.
My dog.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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A poem about the first of September
It just seems to us.
A day like every day.
Nothing unusual is happening
Nothing but I see some crowd.
Lots of beautiful children.
Lots of beautiful tufts.
All in new sneakers.
With new suits.
Perfumed and combed.
They are waiting in front of big buildings.
Buildings with colorful walls.
Colorful fences.
With soccer fields.
They are waiting to hear the first bell.
The first school bell!
A lot of worried parents are waiting with them.
They are smiling, but I can see that the smile is hiding something.
It hides a serious face from them.
They skillfully hide it so that children do not notice it.
They look forward to the first school bell,
but they are more concerned.
They are afraid because the bell means that their loved ones,
become great men.
They are no longer children.
It's not an ordinary day though.
September 1st is the day when you start school.
When you slowly enter into serious life.
So have a happy start.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about my time on read.cash
First I introduced myself.
Than I wrote my first article.
I wrote about the trash can.
I wrote about the bench.
I wrote about my nose.
I wrote about the apology.
I wrote about continents.
I wrote about chess.
I wrote about my country.
I wrote that we should not be faster than life.
About adrenaline.
About the intersection.
My favorite article,
an article about innocent lies.
I never dreamed that I would ever find a way to express myself.
And I expressed myself here.
This is where I started my poems.
Inspiration continues.
Ideas for poems come by themselves.
I can't thank enough to someone who created this.
I'll smile and imagine a wish.
This time out loud.
I hope this platform never shuts down.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
The lead image is mine.
Poem about the moon
They usually wait to see it.
They wait and whisper.
Some hold phones,
to take photo.
Some hold a ring,
to imagine a wish.
I know about that.
They told me when I was a kid.
When it is full,
then we look through the ring,
and imagine a wish.
They say that this wish always comes true.
It came true for me.
It's always different.
It always excites me more
and more.
A sky full of stars,
and the moon in full circle.
In full glory.
Some people like it because of its horoscope.
Someone dreams of traveling to the moon.
In the future, someone will surely live on the moon.
Whatever.
Because of the horoscope
or because of a ring and a wish,
for taking photos,
or because of the trip,
take a few minutes.
The magic will be clear to you.
You will also love the full moon.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about the number 38
Ordinary number.
Number 38.
Ordinary, only at first glance.
It hides a lot of days behind.
13870 days.
I'm starting to worry.
I wonder if that's really many days?
Maybe I should pick up the pace?
But if I speed up,
then the days go even faster.
Those whose number is 68 do not think so.
They think differently.
They say 38 is the best number.
Well, maybe they're right.
24820 days is twice as many days.
They need to pick up the pace,
not me.
I will take it slowly as before.
Slowly but surely.
With slow steps,
fast forward!
I made someone's life better 13870 days ago.
So, happy birthday to me.
Take it easy dear people,
and enjoy every year of your life.
Cheers!
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about sand
It's not food,
and we can't do without it.
Guess what it is?
It is small, medium, large.
You want to build a house,
you need a lot of small,
the finest.
They call it zero.
You want to make a road,
you need a lot,
lots of medium and large.
That one is a little rougher.
For anything you want to build,
you need sand.
Your legs hurt,
your back hurts,
you need a spa.
You need a sand massage.
With hot sand.
The sea sand is the best.
Every day for half an hour in the sand,
all pain disappears.
The sand takes it with it.
Protect the rivers and seas.
These are sand factories.
Just watch out for the scorpion.
It knows how to hide well.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about cactus
Standing alone in the desert.
It waits and waits.
It is waiting for a drop of water.
Sometimes it waits for several months.
It is so strong.
It is so durable.
It is so brave,
when it waits so long.
Some are afraid of it.
They are afraid because it has thorns.
Yes, it has!
They are not there by chance.
It defends itself from enemies.
It defends itself from anyone who wants to attack him.
Plant a cactus once a month.
Water it once a month.
They are not demanding.
At the same time, they are beautiful.
That's why I have them, I don't even know how many.
Look at the cactus.
Respect every drop of water.
Save water.
Water is life!
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about a stone
Hard as a stone.
Stubborn as a stone.
Water can't do anything to him.
Fire can't do anything to him.
Winter can't do anything to him.
The sun can't do anything to him.
If you don't move it,
it will stay there for eternity.
When you build a house with stone,
you are the safest.
When you arrange the yard,
stone slabs are the most beautiful.
So many different shapes.
So many different colors.
No artist can sculpt,
no artist can paint,
as nature makes both color and form.
I brought a few from the sea,
to decorate the aquarium.
No, it's not that color.
Probably the sun and salt water give such an effect.
I will bring them back next year,
to shine,
as they shone when I saw them.
I wish I was a stone!
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about coin
Small and big.
Big and small.
Who would have thought it could be so big,
and at the same time so small.
Invisible.
Untouchable.
Untouchable in every way.
Many storms befell him.
Lots of earthquakes.
Lots of mishaps.
A lot of tension when the disasters start.
But he survives.
He doesn't give up easily,
and stands proud.
With head held high.
And it's not his first time.
He is more experienced now.
He will get up.
He will rise stronger and more powerful.
How would he even know to stand up,
if he doesn't fall?
He smiles at everyone.
He smiles secretly.
Because he trusts whoever trusts him.
So smile too!
Enjoy the art of survival.
Learn how to survive.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about a voluntary blood donor
He is a favorite guy.
They always look forward to seeing him.
Smiling, witty,
always helping others.
He has a rare blood group.
He is aware of that.
And he helps people.
Every Thursday,
at the same time,
he makes his contribution.
He donates blood.
His blood.
One Thursday he was not there.
He was not there on the second Thursday either.
It's not the worst, he had not die.
But as if he had.
He found out he had hepatitis.
It was even harder for him when he found out how he got it.
He took care of his health.
He played sports.
The cognition destroyed him.
At a regular dental check-up,
the dentist infected him with his appliances.
Of course not on purpose.
Now he needs help.
Our help.
Always help when you can,
because we don't know what awaits us tomorrow.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about vacation
Finally.
Deserved vacation.
Ten days of nothing.
No watch, no phone,
no emails, no anything.
When you feel sleepy, you lie down.
When you don't feel like sleeping, you get up.
For a long time I imagined those ten days,
more precisely, dreamed and planned.
Boom!
The reality is different.
My baby's cry wakes me up.
The clock again.
It's time for snack.
It's time for sleep.
It's time for lunch.
I didn't rest today.
The fifth day, the same story.
End of vacation.
I look at the clock more than when I'm not on vacation.
What kind of vacation is this?
Is this a vacation?
Yes, my baby rests.
He enjoys every moment.
Maybe that's how it should be, I don't know.
I just know that from this vacation,
I need a rest.
Yes, I need a break.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about a calendar
Paper, ruler.
A pattern drawn on paper.
There are numbers in the pattern.
It can be annual.
It can be menstrual.
It can be school.
It can be military.
It can be fruity.
My son has a fruity one.
When he eats a fruit,
he crossed out that day,
because otherwise he won't eat fruit.
Perfect idea.
Do we have to live according to the calendar?
Do we need to know what day it is,
what time it is,
what month it is,
and what year it is?
I believe it was much more beautiful without a watch,
and calendar.
Without any restrictions.
You hear the gong,
you know it's lunch time.
You hear the trumpet,
you know you should wake up.
You hear a drum in the middle of the street,
you know someone is carrying important information.
Who is for musical instruments? 😊
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about Sunday
Most people think,
Sunday is a day like any other,
probably because they are working that day.
They are not free and have no sense of freedom.
All days are special,
each in its own way.
Monday is the hardest,
because you have to force yourself to work after the weekend.
Tuesday is preparation for Wednesday.
Wednesday is already the middle of the working week,
and the hardest part is over.
Thursday is the fastest day,
because Friday is tomorrow.
The weekend begins,
nothing is difficult for you.
Saturday is the day to go out.
It can be a bit overdone,
because Sunday is after Saturday. 😊
Sunday is a day of rest.
Sunday is a day when everyone should respect themselves.
Whatever suits you.
Respect yourself every Sunday.
Rest, recharge your batteries.
Respect your Sunday but,
respect other people's Sunday too.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about billiards
Colorful and monochrome.
Solid and striped.
Black and white.
Triangle, chalk and two cues.
The perfect combination to start with.
To start the game.
Life can be like that.
A bit colorful.
A little monochrome.
A bit white.
A little black.
It's white in the beginning.
Black is in the end.
If you don't know how to hold a cue,
and how to hit well,
you can lose.
And if you know,
you can hit one at a time in a row,
and to win.
Sometimes you find yourself in a triangle.
Sometimes you need two clues.
For both colorful and monochrome,
black and white,
victory and defeat,
you need a partner.
For life.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about a key
Lock the apartment.
Lock the car.
Lock the basement.
Lock the office.
Lock your phone.
Lock the card.
Lock mail.
Lock account.
Lock your wallet.
Key, key, key.
A hundred keys.
Some real, some encrypted.
If you lose one,
you are in serious trouble.
That's why I have an invisible key.
I made it myself.
Invisible because no one can copy it.
I found someone I want to lock.
Not to lock with the right key.
Not to lock with a password that can be cracked by a hacker.
I want in my heart to lock it.
To lose the key on purpose.
Feel free to make invisible keys.
Lock someone you love and
lose the key.
No one can stop you from loving.
And when you love,
love with all your heart!
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about paper marriage
Crown of love.
That's what I would say.
They loved each other,
and planned a life together.
They got married,
and went through life together.
Both for better and for worse. 😊
This is where I would start.
20,000 dollars, now about 194 BCH.
That's how much a paper signature costs.
Yes, a marriage signature.
It doesn't end there.
Then conditioning begins.
Because the requirement for papers is at least 2 years of marriage.
More than 700 days.
Every day a new idea for hijacking.
$20,000 is a bit much.
So then buy a car.
Dress me here and there.
And so more than 700 wishes.
Why?
Why did we ruin even that most beautiful moment?
Because nobody respects anything anymore.
Except for greenbacks.
Respect the sacred, respect marriage!
It's not all about the money.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about whispering
I walk and whisper.
Footsteps are heard echoing.
Steps and breathing.
Footsteps echo.
Breathing quickens.
Breathing quickens because I'm whispering.
I don't know if the footsteps or the heart beating are louder.
I am speeding up.
I don't know if I walk faster or whisper faster.
Alternately, tick tock, then steps.
I whisper to myself.
I whisper so softly that I can't hear myself.
I can't make out what I'm whispering.
Because I'm afraid to hear myself.
It's not whispering only when you want no one to hear you.
It's not whispering when you just want someone to hear you.
Whispering is also when you want to get rid of something.
Something difficult, painful and something beautiful.
But you mustn't say it out loud.
Walk freely.
Take a step and let it all go.
Free yourself by whispering.
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about a sheet of paper
I'll start quietly.
I must not make mistakes and there will be difficult words.
I have probably three notebooks in the house that are for tearing.
My children write, erase, tear and throw away.
I have so many at work that I don't know their number.
So much paper is wasted for each employee today.
Each of us signed a few papers for annual leave.
It's horrible!
How many such firms have done the same today?
So can we record digitally in the digital world?
Electricity bill,
water bill,
television bill.
Do we have to use paper at all?
Each of those papers is a tree.
Hey, one tree!
Well, we cut down an entire forest today, while we were signing and paying the bills.
We are killers.
We kill trees!
I suggest we fight.
Let's plant trees!
To victory!
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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Poem about a name
Name.
Your name or another name?
Is your name the right name?
Is your name just for you or not?
If it was called differently maybe it wouldn’t be the right name!
Does your name matter?
If so, what does that mean?
When you find out the meaning,
ask yourself if you can carry that meaning.
Try changing the name.
Try a different name for a few days.
Introduce yourself differently and you will find out.
You won't do anything.
You don't react to another name.
That means yours is exactly yours.
Carry your name with pride.
Same as your nose.
Whatever it is,
it's yours!
You wear it best!
Author: Musician
Thanks a lot for reading.
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@Musician