I am, as those of you who follow this blog will know, interested in clocks and what they represent (I.E. Old Father Time himself, with his sickle chopping up seconds).
Yesterday I happened across Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Old Clock On The Stairs” (https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44643/the-old-clock-on-the-stairs). In his poem Longfellow describes a clock that ticks away in a mansion. Time passes never to return and the people observed by this timepiece are now dead or gone elsewhere leaving the clock telling time in the empty house.
My own work contains several poems which deal with the passing of time, including one simply entitled “Time” which runs thus:
“The reaper moves
In time with the pendulum.
No rush
Or fuss
He has plenty of time.
My patient friend
whose tick portends
my inevitable end.
You rest in state
on my bookcase.
Tick tock
I can not stop
time’s sithe.
None can survive
his cut.
Though in a cupboard my clock be shut
death can not be put
aside
The sickle chops
And the heart will, one day, stop”.
(“Time” can be found in “Lost in the Labyrinth Of My Mind”, which is available from Moyhill Publishing (http://moyhill.com/lost/) and Amazon (https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01AF5EPVY).
My latest collection of poetry, “My Old Clock I Wind” is also available from Moyhill Publishing and can be found here (http://moyhill.com/clock/). “My Old Clock” can also be downloaded in the Amazon Kindle store (https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0735JBVBG).