Time Poems - Poems For Time

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The Time I Like Best - Poem by Roger McGough

The time I like best is 6am
when the snow is 6 inches deep
which I'm yet to discover
'cause I'm under the covers
fast, fast asleep.

Comments about The Time I Like Best by Roger McGough

  • Suryendu Chaudhury 10/22/2020 9:40:00 AM

    This is a joly little poem that uplifts the mood. Reply

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  • Dr Tony Brahmin 9/15/2020 11:00:00 AM

    I'm yet to discover
    'cause I'm under the covers
    fast, fast asleep.
    very fine poem indeed. tony
    Reply

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  • Michael Walker 9/30/2019 9:49:00 PM

    I like that time for the same reasons. It's cold outside but I'm sleeping in a warm bed.
    What an effortless pleasure that is.
    Reply

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    2 person did not like.
  • Bernard F. Asuncion 7/7/2019 7:07:00 PM

    A profound poetic expression...... Reply

    1 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Malabika Ray Choudhury 7/7/2019 5:38:00 PM

    Excellent! So much said in so few words! Who doesn't like being under the covers at 6 am when it's snowing outside? ! Reply

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  • Dr Tony Brahmin 7/7/2019 3:15:00 PM

    which I'm yet to discover
    'cause I'm under the covers
    fast, fast asleep. very good poem. tony
    Reply

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    2 person did not like.
  • Rajnish Manga 7/7/2019 12:52:00 PM

    Wow! Except for having snow outside, I also love sleeping for late hours during winters.
    Thanks a lot.
    Reply

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  • fujjiha 7/7/2019 12:33:00 PM

    Once again the white right winger using the term political correctness to push his racism when afterall he determined that Nike and Kaepernick are the ones being politically incorrect so he protests. What’s really going on is he doesn’t like being reminded that racism exists and that there are symbols of racism. http: //www.4cashpath.com/ Reply

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  • Glen Kappy 7/7/2019 7:25:00 AM

    especially when it's cold outside, how good it is to stay snuggled warm under the covers. mcgough conveys this well and with humor in this little poem. -gk Reply

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  • Kumarmani Mahakul 7/7/2019 5:16:00 AM

    The time I like best is 6am........outstanding conceptualization. A beautiful poem in brief having lofty theme is amazingly shared. Thanks and congratulations for being selected this poem as the modern poem of POD. Reply

    0 person liked.
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Read all 23 comments »
Time Poems
  1. 1. The Time I Like Best
    Roger McGough
  2. 2. A Prayer In Time Of War
    Alfred Noyes
  3. 3. A Song Of Eternity In Time
    Sidney Lanier
  4. 4. Two Tramps In Mud Time
    Robert Frost
  5. 5. To The Virgins, Make Much Of Time
    Robert Herrick
  6. 6. Sonnet Vii: How Soon Hath Time, The Subt..
    John Milton
  7. 7. Was There A Time
    Dylan Thomas
  8. 8. Always For The First Time
    Andre Breton
  9. 9. Less Time
    Andre Breton
  10. 10. Cherry-Time
    Robert Graves
  11. 11. Milton: And Did Those Feet In Ancient Time
    William Blake
  12. 12. Time Long Past
    Percy Bysshe Shelley
  13. 13. T Was Just This Time Last Year I Died.
    Emily Dickinson
  14. 14. Meditations In Time Of Civil War
    William Butler Yeats
  15. 15. On Time
    John Milton
  16. 16. Time
    Percy Bysshe Shelley
  17. 17. A Meditation In Time Of War
    William Butler Yeats
  18. 18. As The Time Draws Nigh
    Walt Whitman
  19. 19. Time And Time And Time Again
    David Keig
  20. 20. The Course Of Life, Time, And Events And..
    Merlin Archivilla
  21. 21. On Seeing The Elgin Marbles For The Firs..
    John Keats
  22. 22. Sonnet 49: Against That Time, If Ever Th..
    William Shakespeare
  23. 23. Time Cures All
    Hilaire Belloc
  24. 24. The Coming Of Wisdom With Time
    William Butler Yeats
  25. 25. The Faun Sees Snow For The First Time
    Richard Aldington
  26. 26. Never The Time And The Place
    Robert Browning
  27. 27. Or From That Sea Of Time
    Walt Whitman
  28. 28. Sonnet Xxxviii: First Time He Kissed Me
    Elizabeth Barrett Browning
  29. 29. Time, Real And Imaginary
    Samuel Taylor Coleridge
  30. 30. The Time When I First Fell In Love
    Anonymous
  31. 31. Sonnet Xxxii: The First Time
    Elizabeth Barrett Browning
  32. 32. Dusk In War Time
    Sara Teasdale
  33. 33. To Lucasta On Going To The War - For The..
    Robert Graves
  34. 34. To The Rose Upon The Rood Of Time
    William Butler Yeats
  35. 35. Time Of Roses
    Thomas Hood
  36. 36. Time Knows Time
    Tirupathi Chandrupatla
  37. 37. Long Time I Lay In Little Ease
    Robert Louis Stevenson
  38. 38. The Time I'Ve Lost
    Thomas Moore
  39. 39. They Say That 'Time Assuages,
    Emily Dickinson
  40. 40. Sonnet Xxiii: Time, Cruel Time
    Samuel Daniel
  41. 41. To Think Of Time
    Walt Whitman
  42. 42. No Time Like The Old Time
    Oliver Wendell Holmes
  43. 43. Upon Time And Eternity
    John Bunyan
  44. 44. I Had No Time To Hate, Because
    Emily Dickinson
  45. 45. Warble Of Lilac-Time
    Walt Whitman
  46. 46. To Enjoy The Time
    Robert Herrick
  47. 47. Oh For The Swords Of Former Time
    Thomas Moore
  48. 48. The Present Time Best Pleaseth
    Robert Herrick
  49. 49. Upon Time
    Robert Herrick
  50. 50. From Time To Time
    Matsuo Basho

New Time Poems

  1. Oddity Of Death, Clinton Siegle
  2. A Time For Anything, Hebert Logerie
  3. Now Is The One Infinite Time! The One In.., Joshua Aaron Guillory
  4. Where Does Wine Come From, Clinton Siegle
  5. My Time Your Time Our Time, Gajanan Mishra
  6. Name Poetry, Clinton Siegle
  7. Going Blindness Acrostic, Clinton Siegle
  8. OFTEN TIMES, Nora-Eugenie Gomringer
  9. Sonnet 30, Oduma Alex
  10. Natural Life (Epic), Daniel Reurink

Time Poems

  1. To The Virgins, Make Much Of Time

    Gather ye rose-buds while ye may: Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun, The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best, which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times, still succeed the former. - Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry; For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.

  2. A Song Of Eternity In Time

    Once, at night, in the manor wood My Love and I long silent stood, Amazed that any heavens could Decree to part us, bitterly repining. My Love, in aimless love and grief, Reached forth and drew aside a leaf That just above us played the thief And stole our starlight that for us was shining. A star that had remarked her pain Shone straightway down that leafy lane, And wrought his image, mirror-plain, Within a tear that on her lash hung gleaming. "Thus Time," I cried, "is but a tear Some one hath wept 'twixt hope and fear, Yet in his little lucent sphere Our star of stars, Eternity, is beaming."

  3. Two Tramps In Mud Time

    Out of the mud two strangers came And caught me splitting wood in the yard, And one of them put me off my aim By hailing cheerily "Hit them hard!" I knew pretty well why he had dropped behind And let the other go on a way. I knew pretty well what he had in mind: He wanted to take my job for pay. Good blocks of oak it was I split, As large around as the chopping block; And every piece I squarely hit Fell splinterless as a cloven rock. The blows that a life of self-control Spares to strike for the common good, That day, giving a loose my soul, I spent on the unimportant wood. The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day When the sun is out and the wind is still, You're one month on in the middle of May. But if you so much as dare to speak, A cloud comes over the sunlit arch, A wind comes off a frozen peak, And you're two months back in the middle of March. A bluebird comes tenderly up to alight And turns to the wind to unruffle a plume, His song so pitched as not to excite A single flower as yet to bloom. It is snowing a flake; and he half knew Winter was only playing possum. Except in color he isn't blue, But he wouldn't advise a thing to blossom. The water for which we may have to look In summertime with a witching wand, In every wheelrut's now a brook, In every print of a hoof a pond. Be glad of water, but don't forget The lurking frost in the earth beneath That will steal forth after the sun is set And show on the water its crystal teeth. The time when most I loved my task The two must make me love it more By coming with what they came to ask. You'd think I never had felt before The weight of an ax-head poised aloft, The grip of earth on outspread feet, The life of muscles rocking soft And smooth and moist in vernal heat. Out of the wood two hulking tramps (From sleeping God knows where last night, But not long since in the lumber camps). They thought all chopping was theirs of right. Men of the woods and lumberjacks, They judged me by their appropriate tool. Except as a fellow handled an ax They had no way of knowing a fool. Nothing on either side was said. They knew they had but to stay their stay And all their logic would fill my head: As that I had no right to play With what was another man's work for gain. My right might be love but theirs was need. And where the two exist in twain Theirs was the better right--agreed. But yield who will to their separation, My object in living is to unite My avocation and my vocation As my two eyes make one in sight. Only where love and need are one, And the work is play for mortal stakes, Is the deed ever really done For Heaven and the future's sakes.

  4. A Prayer In Time Of War

    The war will change many things in art and life, and among them, it is to be hoped, many of our own ideas as to what is, and what is not, "intellectual." Thou, whose deep ways are in the sea, Whose footsteps are not known, To-night a world that turned from Thee Is waiting -- at Thy Throne. The towering Babels that we raised Where scoffing sophists brawl, The little Antichrists we praised -- The night is on them all. The fool hath said . . . The fool hath said . .. And we, who deemed him wise, We who believed that Thou wast dead, How should we seek Thine eyes? How should we seek to Thee for power Who scorned Thee yesterday? How should we kneel, in this dread hour? Lord, teach us how to pray! Grant us the single heart, once more, That mocks no sacred thing, The Sword of Truth our fathers wore When Thou wast Lord and King. Let darkness unto darkness tell Our deep unspoken prayer, For, while our souls in darkness dwell, We know that Thou art there.