The Wise Clock

 

Tick tock, tick tock

At what expense would I flee this life?

I hang on a blank wall, helpless

A victim to the numbers

 

Tick tock, tick tock

I can count only in seconds the race of time

For my arms point to numbers my eyes cannot see

And divide in lonely incriments the days and years

 

Tick tock, tick tock

The ones who stare at me don't wonder

They only read my shallow body for the truth

For my voice is not heard by them

My heart of brass not shared by them

I am only a tool in their book of tools

 

Tick tock, tick tock

Would they grieve at my absence?

Can they even feel sorrow?

What monsters would hang another by a mere nail?

 

Tick tock, tick tock

In fifty years I have watched them grow old

Slaves are born and freed in less time

But machines feel no such mercy

 

Tick tock, tick tock

I hold this truth as doctrine

That one day I will wander

Their eyes no longer able to scale my face

Their routine stopped short

For they are sheep without their shepherd

 

Men without their God

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Raven]

It's great the way you took an animate object such as a clock and created such a powerful poem with it. If only men knew the time they waste and how presious it is. Masterful poem.

[Isha Ethera]

perfectly captured.

[Nimbus Thread]

You've created a metaphorical gem here. The voice is pondering existence, in spirit and morality. Are we all this clock? You bet...in different strokes.

[An owl on the moon]

I love the rhythm and flow you create here. The emotions are gripping and the scope vast, with minds filled the worlds of imagery. Powerful.

[James Paulin]

Two suggestions, small g in god and replace the cliche " sheep without their shepherd". I like this theme and composition. You have imagination.

[.]

very interesting concept ..through the eyes of the clock..conveying the way time is our master...all things on this plain controlled by the reality of time..unique piece again..

[Light]

wow! the first 2 stanzas are a brilliant description of a living, sentient clock! this is great. you then use this clock to question our devotion to time and fear of mortality; though we have no true understanding of what time even is:

"The ones who stare at me don't wonder
They only read my shallow body for the truth
For my voice is not heard by them
My heart of brass not shared by them
I am only a tool in their book of tools"

these old dying men; "men without their God!" great write!!! beautiful!

-light-

[David Keagan]

Wow! never thought as deep about content, such as a clock, as you have and projected in this poem. Much truth embedded in this brilliant write

[KAREN]

Great write! sometimes I feel like a clock myself, never getting anything done as the hours go by!!

[bluessadmood]

that was nice with some little changes,this could be so melodramic
i count their time,i see how many steps those humans take,everyday,all life
till they are tired and i declare the end,everyday the march here and there
in a race ,they think they would win,only too fast to bring them near me
how miserable they are to my eyes.. cruel and hurt i see
taking slaves who could be masters,and they think a lot
of themselves ,dont know how petty they are to others eyes
yes this was nice ,with a little more work
lovely write..