Times

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Its these times I cherish.
In fact,
every single moment of them.
These times when I feel full,
and happy,
full of joy.
Every minute of relaxation,
Every second
of every hour
of every day that I spend feeling this way.
These rare couple of days
when I actually believe that life is worth living.




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150896 wrote:[b]Its these times I cherish.
In fact,
every single moment of them.


How can you have a moment of a time? That does not make sense, and as such, I cannot critique the opening of the poem further before understanding what you are trying to say. Perhaps you mean just "every single moment"? Are you referring to "snapshots" of time, and so have done that purposely?

These times when I feel full,
and happy,
full of joy.
Every minute of relaxation,


Joy as an emotion does not work with the others. Feeling full, happy, and relaxed conveys to me a sleepy kind of satisfaction, one of eating a feast with family or drifting off to sleep after an exciting day. Joyous doesn't seem to be a feeling that fits with the rest here. Change it to something more along the lines of feeling full and the like.

Every second
of every hour
of every day that I spend feeling this way.


So it was a snapshot. This part is a little dry, but I suggest leaving it as it is.

These rare couple of days
when I actually believe that life is worth living.


Don't throw a new idea on us at the last second like you've done here in the last stanza. What do you mean, "rare couple of days' and "actually believe"? This implies that the rest of the time, you're unhappy for some reason. That is confusing, considering all the memories and emotions you've portrayed do not reflect this. If it is a cliffhanger you want, then so be it; know that it is not a satisfying one, however, because it leaves the reader not knowing what just happened.

Hope that helped.



The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what Fiction means.
— Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest