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Literature Text
There’s a poem in the rhythm of the ticking of the clock
as she beats out gentle midnight into supple sheets of black;
as she clips away the seconds, as she faithfully takes stock,
she will whisper lonely love songs that are never whispered back.
As the subtle shades of silence wash across the city’s shores
and the orange of the streetlamps billows out to block the night,
she will carry on her counting without pleasure, without pause,
always filled with thoughts she knows her hands will not be free to write.
And when these moments calmly pass her by, she watches with regret,
feeling life flow on around her like a stream split by a rock;
she can never join the waters, never float downstream—and yet
there’s a poem in the rhythm of the ticking of the clock.
as she beats out gentle midnight into supple sheets of black;
as she clips away the seconds, as she faithfully takes stock,
she will whisper lonely love songs that are never whispered back.
As the subtle shades of silence wash across the city’s shores
and the orange of the streetlamps billows out to block the night,
she will carry on her counting without pleasure, without pause,
always filled with thoughts she knows her hands will not be free to write.
And when these moments calmly pass her by, she watches with regret,
feeling life flow on around her like a stream split by a rock;
she can never join the waters, never float downstream—and yet
there’s a poem in the rhythm of the ticking of the clock.
Suggested Collections
The clock is a metaphor for trite poetry. 
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Erm... happy new year everyone! Because of all the mad busyness that keeps happening at me (and because I'm not good at organising said busyness) I have still completely failed at replying to all the lovely messages I've been getting and commenting back and all that. Maybe I'll get on top of things in the summer... :S
But basically, I'd like to warn you in advance that if you are so kind as to comment, it could take me a very long time indeed to respond, so please don't be offended; your comments do mean a lot to me, which is why I hate giving really disappointing replies that have had no thought put into them whatsoever... But that does mean that I'm obscenely slow.
EDIT: Sorry to throw this at you again, but I've edited the last stanza so it sticks with the meter better, as several of you cunning folk have noticed the issues there, particularly ~Nikibelia, who used her super english student skills and long words.
I changed it from this:
She’ll always be a measurer, watching time pass with regret,
ever cut off from the flow, too afraid to join the flock;
her tales remain untold, she keeps ticking on—and yet
there’s a poem in the rhythm of the ticking of the clock.
Improvement?
---
Erm... happy new year everyone! Because of all the mad busyness that keeps happening at me (and because I'm not good at organising said busyness) I have still completely failed at replying to all the lovely messages I've been getting and commenting back and all that. Maybe I'll get on top of things in the summer... :S
But basically, I'd like to warn you in advance that if you are so kind as to comment, it could take me a very long time indeed to respond, so please don't be offended; your comments do mean a lot to me, which is why I hate giving really disappointing replies that have had no thought put into them whatsoever... But that does mean that I'm obscenely slow.
EDIT: Sorry to throw this at you again, but I've edited the last stanza so it sticks with the meter better, as several of you cunning folk have noticed the issues there, particularly ~Nikibelia, who used her super english student skills and long words.
I changed it from this:She’ll always be a measurer, watching time pass with regret,
ever cut off from the flow, too afraid to join the flock;
her tales remain untold, she keeps ticking on—and yet
there’s a poem in the rhythm of the ticking of the clock.
Improvement?
© 2009 - 2024 chugglepuff
Comments33
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I've just read this again. I really like sound and rhythm of it. I will admit I can't generally see much pattern and meter in fixed poetry, but I can get the rhythm of this, and I also love the alliterative sounds. I suppose the strong rhythm is very appropriate to a poem about a clock. It's got lovely imagery, too.