Heartbeat

The beating of a heart or the ticking of a clock, To me is life’s real poetry the way that it should rock. Maybe it’s cause I listen to my world with heart not ears, For what you sometimes think you heard could fill you full of fears. Some say I never listen, and I know I talk a lot, And most of what comes out my mouth, is simply nought but rot. But what I find within my heart is such a stable beat, That when I want to write it down it makes me tap my feet. When I hear my friends are talking and I think they’ve put me down, I don’t go really crazy or meet them with a frown. But wonder why my rhythm has gone a bit off synch, To give a bad impression of the things they think I think. I try to keep life ticking like a fully wound up clock, Not pausing for a minute but as solid as a rock. For the rhythm in my lifestyle I could never ever drop, For like a clock that’s run down it’s then that it will stop. So forgive me if my poetry is always wrote in rhyme, It’s the way my feelings and my soul connect in ethereal time. I know it’s not real groovy for it’s always in sing-song, But that’s the way I’ve listened to my heart my whole life long. Ivor G Davies