Below is the poem entitled The clock which was written by poet
Unger. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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Tick, tock , tick, tock,
The clock bellowed resounding through my mind, like so many wood peckers drilling into a tree.
This infuriating clock my mother had given me
It began tick, tick, ticking away
The very day it entered my home
The very wrong dings and the dongs well,
It would surely drive my wife mad
She would rant and rave and I would say
It's a gift from my mother
Then it would once again be saved
Oh but that maddening ticking that, tick ,tock, tick, tock
This infuriating gift from my mother, this clock.
Tock , tock, tocking as it began stealing a face. Well I am not mad, I swear it to be, a copy was made but i swear it undeniably was my mother,
with mocking eyes as it continued the ticking and the tocking I had grown to despise
My mother's infuriating gift, this clock.
It gave me no peace that infernal machine even when outside her tick, tick, ticking was inside of me.
I decided then and there to stop the tock, my mother, with unbalanced levels of dopamine her pills could be switched the death quick and clean.
Still the ticking and tocking as she was taken away the clock displaying a fresh new face.
My mother the infuriating clock
It was my wife staring at me, amused over my torment, my mother was gone and yet she jested as she tick, tock, tick, tocked
I tore the clock from the wall and dumped it in the waste bin but the ticking remained tick, tock, tick, tock
It was in my study the following morn
Her face was neither tattered nor worn
My wife grinned at me her smile wide with trickery
She continued tick, tick, ticking, tick, tick, ticking
My wife the infuriating clock
We were upstairs one eve
A debate would ensue she began to tick, tick, tick
The stairs were so sharp, the floor so slick
I heard the gears shatter but there was no longer a clock, I wept as it resounded
Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock
I raced to the study but the face was replaced,
By a familiar tortured creature
Lost in time and space
The infuriating clock that I owned.
The ticking and tocking ebbed
Then a resounding click, then a tock, then a tick
The powder ignited as I lifted my gaze
My wife the infuriating clock, that my mother gave me, that held my true face
Tick tock tick tock tick tock
The blood runs down the clock
The clock strikes twelve
The ticking ends
Tick tock tick tock tick tock.