Tag Archives: time

Podcast of Kevin’s poem, “My Old Clock I Wind” on Vancouver Co-op Radio

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Many thanks to Neall of Vancouver Co-op Radio for reading my poem, “My Old Clock I wind” and Ariadne for facilitating this. The poem is below:

“My old clock I wind
And much philosophy therein find.
I can bring
The pendulum’s swing
To a stop With my hand,
Yet I can not command
Time to default
On his duty and halt
The passing of the years.
He has no ears
For our laughter and tears
And his sickle will swing on
Long after we are gone”.

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The show was broadcast at 13:00 on Thursday 8 December and can be found

HERE

My poem is read approximately 45 minutes into the programme.

I will be interviewed on Vancouver Co-op Radio on 12 January 2017.

Kevin

Shadows

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On such a day, when the winter sun
Casts my shadow upon yonder wall,
It is difficult to recall
That all
This will, one day be done.

In future will some other one, sitting here, and seeing their shadow fall
Upon this self-same wall,
Know that they may not forestall
The night
When dancing shadows are, forever lost from sight.

—

(Written on 3 December 2016, while sitting in my study).

My Old Clock I Wind

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My old clock I wind
And much philosophy therein find.
I can bring
The pendulum’s swing
To a stop With my hand,
Yet I can not command
Time to default
On his duty and halt
The passing of the years.
He has no ears
For our laughter and tears
And his sickle will swing on
Long after we are gone.

The Clocks Have Gone Back

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The clocks have gone back and the weather is cold.
The bold
Venture outdoors.
The temperature underscores
That winter is here
And the year
Is nearing it’s close.

Fingers and toes
Freeze.
There is no breeze,
Only the chill air to please
Senses the all encompassing heat
Would defeat

Valentine’s Day

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Roses red
Speak of bed
To some.
How life does run
On.
Soon Valentines will have come
And gone
As the pendulum swings on.

I doubt tomorrow will be fine
Yet women and wine
Are surely divine?
The line
Betwixt leg and skirt.
Lonleness does hurt.
Will she stay
On Valentine’s day?

Leaves Blown At Night

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Leaves blown at night.
Delight
Sorrow.
This moment we borrow
And think of a tomorrow
That may never come.
We run
Perchance have fun
Then, ‘Tis done.

—

Walking my dog at around 4:30 on a blustery December evening, I was conscious of the fallen leaves blowing around me. This gave rise to the above poem.

Kevin

Why Do I Write?

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Why do I write
oft long into the night?
Is it for pure delight
at the craft
or am I daft?
I hear my clock’s chime.
Time
crouches near.
The year
is drawing to it’s close.
The writer knows
that words live on
long after he is gone,
so strives to leave a mark
on this world stark.
A light that glimmers
in the dark
Illumining the human heart.

(Upper Norwood, 27 November 2015).

Time

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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.