A confession
About my obsession
With clocks.
Their ticks
And tocks.
But all obsessions,
Eventually, stop.
An Obsession with Clocks
2 Replies
Tag Archives: clocks
Pick Your Fights Wisely My Friend
Pick your fights wisely my friend.
You may pretend
That you can stop the clock.
Of course, you may
The clock’s hands stay,
Or mock time
In a rhyme.
But, in the end
Your inner clock
Will stop,
My friend.
Time
On a beautiful spring night
I heard, with some delight
The gentle tick tock
Of a long deceased clock.
Time is always there.
Yet I care
For the tick tock
Of an individual clock.
Each, separate timepiece
Must,
One day
Cease.
And I shall go away,
And all the philosophy discussed,
Shall turn to dust.
Rewound
When the tick tock
Of the clock
Does stop,
I have found
That it is nothing profound,
For a clock
Is easily rewound.
Chime
The chime
Of my old, staid
Clock, does remind
me that there is a debt
To be paid.
But time,
Ends all regret.
I can Choose
I can choose
To wind my clock,
Or not,
As the case may be.
But, if I lose
The key,
Time will not stop
For me.
When Clever Men
When clever men
Hear the clock,
They say,
“We do not
Accept the concept
Of time”.
And the poet composes
A simple rhyme
About roses,
Past their prime.
Out of Time
My clock’s chime
Is out of time,
Yet I care not
For I see
In my clock
A protest, against modernity.
Its A Brief Stroll
Its a brief stroll
Through the churchyard for me
And my soul.
And although there be
No clock in the church tower,
To chime
The hour
For me,
Time
Must stop
And there will be
No more need of clock
For thee
Or me.
My Hands Are Cold
My hands are cold
And I am growing old.
The wall clock measures time
As I rhyme
Of young women
And sinning.
But I am growing old
And my hands are cold.
