Whenever I return to my family home
The clock on the wall
Stands alone
Looking down on us all.
I have composed rhyme
To women and wine
And the clock on the wall
Watches us all.
We laugh
And time slips away.
As the clock on the wall
Looks down on us all.
One day
Someone will be gone
And the clock on the wall
Will tick on
Just the same.
For Time is blind
And the clock knows not
Who has gone
And who remains.
Who has
¬
These flowers
Are fading now.
This vase
Which stands so stable
On this wooden table
May not break
In my lifetime.
But hours pass.
Glass breaks
And this rhyme
Composed as I sit
At this wooden table
As the clock ticks
May remain
When all I see
Is gone from me.
But this grain
Of truth
Will stay
When my mind
Can no longer play
With time.
I am often told
That time
Is merely an illusion.
Yet rhyme
Has beginning and end.
And time
My ever present friend
Will stop
This ageing clock
In the end.
My unbalanced clock
Will still tick tock.
The pendulum swings.
But no Cuckoo sings
And the clock’s
Music has stopped.
Old father time
Got caught in a rhyme
And couldn’t get away.
He knew not
What to say or do
As his hands
Got stuck with glue.
I desire to retire
To a house with old clocks.
There my poor words
Would be inspired by birds
And the clock’s slow tick tock.
I would forget my regret
And get lost in fine rhyme.
Women and wine
Would distract my mind
From passing time.
Young women’s heels click.
Old clocks tick.
But all must stop
In the end,
However much we pretend
They do not.
As I try to write
The tick tock
Of the clock
Measures my day and night.
At other times
Lost in rhymes
I hear it not.
The beat of women’s feet
Has measured my pleasure
And pain. But the clock mocks
Us all. We fall
In love and lust,
And time turns all to dust.
How soon the scent
Of blossom is spent
In the rain.
These little flowers
No not hours,
While I pass by
In unending rain.
On a cold autumn day
I find that time
Has stopped. But my clock
May be wound today.
Yet, one day
I will not
Know the day or time.
A house of stopped clocks .
Where, when,
He attempts to wind them,
Wise men
Say, “why not try
Some new batteries today …!”.
K Morris - Poet 