Land of the Dead Clocks
n the land of the dead clocks they slither and slink
Not caring about the time, without battery or blink
Like snakes moseying around, they barely move at all
Some linger and languish, others lie against a back wall
How did we get here? The clocks ask each other.
No one has a guess, some are too ugly to smother.
In the land of the dead clocks, time has stopped forever.
How soon do I want to visit? Let’s go with never.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
