Best Clock On Poems
“The Clock on the Wall”
That clock! The clock with cruelty, unmovable.
Telling time to be forever in motion.
The ticking, a deafening sound.
Marked by grime.
Yellowed by generations, grown digital.
By generations choosing to be illiterate.
The face, weathered from gazing faces…from faces.
Forever burdened by the echo.
TOCK!
Each minute, reversing youth.
Spinning hours that grin madly at the crows.
Birds destined to stomp divots into flesh.
Surrounding lids and lashes.
TICK-TOCK!
That hellish clock.
Stealing jewelry and lovers and future plans
Dreams given up in anguish to dead time, in the night.
The second hand, proud, purposeful.
Its movement pushing the aged into graves.
Eternally passing hours.
Laughing wildly at years gone by.
Heckling decades…lost.
TICK, TICK!
The ticking of that god-damned clock!
Mocking the genius gone mad.
A shocking reminder of all that is forgotten.
That all will be…forgotten.
The unforgiving clock.
Moving time.
Time, a father, whose knee will be outgrown.
A chastising father.
Protecting nothing.
Holding nothing.
Nothing calm.
Holding nothing safe.
Nothing still.
Curse that clock on the wall.
On walls dropping picture frames.
Loosened by rusty nails.
Images of families smothered in broken glass.
The clock.
TICK-TOCK!
Burning down homes that cradled infants.
With fatty folds and creamy dreams.
The clock, convincing people to set alarms.
Convincing people to startle the soul…
Into a brand-new day.
The clock still ticks on the living room wall
It’s dark feelings I recall
Death somehow changed it all
I no longer feel it is my fault
I learn to let go of pain and grief
Stop asking why this happen to me
I never will really understand
How evil resides in a god fearing man
Fate has led me down many a road
Something pushing and pulling me along
But I believe after all these years
That the scars will remain inside me sealed
A stamp on my soul for which I know
God himself sheds some tears
I am not as forgiving as he
For many demons had hunted me
I somehow feel there is someone else
I can help as I have myself.
CLOCK ON THE WALL
THE CLOCK ON THE WALL READS HALF PAST THE HOUR
EVERY TIC OF THE LITTLE SECOND HAND SEEM TO GET LOUDER
WITH NUMEROUS INMATES SCREAMING OUT AT BEHIND THESE SOLID WALLS, COLD BARS, WHICH HOLDS THE CLOCK THAT ANSWERS MOST OF THEIR CALLS.
EVERYTHING RAN ON TIMELY SCHEDULE ALL EYES ON THE CLOCK WAITING FOR THE NEXT DIRECTION TO GO. WITH ONLY MY WIT, FAITH AND STRENGTH GIVEN TO ME BY GOD IT’S ALL I HAVE TO GET ME SAFELY HOME.
IT IS CLEAR EVERY MOMENT IN TIME HAS VALUE WHETHER YOU CHOOSE TO SEE IT, OR NOT IT’S A GIFT OF NO OTHER. I HOPE FOR YOU TO TRULY UNDERSTAND IT BEFORE YOU ARE THE NUMBER STARING AT IT.
THIS CLOCK SITS AT A PLACE NOT ALL CAN HANDLE EVERYTHING IS CONTROLLED BY NUMBERS. NO MATTER HOW YOU PICK IT UP OR PUT IN DOWN. THIS IS A PLACE WHERE EVERYTHING STANDS STILL AND THINGS RARELY FOUND. A PLACE OF NO TIME FOR YOU TO GET BUT ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD FOR YOU TO HAVE.
JUST LIKE THE CLOCK ON THE WALL WHO HANGS AROUND TO REMIND YOU OF THAT FACT. BUT AS THE DAY NEARS TO ITS END. COUNT TIME BECOMES YOUR CLOSET FRIEND. IT’S TIME TO COME IN FROM THE YARD; I CAN’T HELP BUT WONDER AND THINK TO MYSELF WHO’S REALLY DOING THE TIME
THE CLOCK ON THE WALL,
THE INMATES OR
THE GUARDS.
To both sides who can relate.
BY PAUL J WILLIAMS SR
Copy Written Pjwilliams
As their pulses quicken even more
I hang quietly here above the door
Excited I am too as they quicken the pace
I have two hands up trying to cover my face
Like a voyeur watching their naked bodies meet
Turned on now, but my heart doesn't miss a beat
Embarrassed just a little at their love making
I don't mean to notice how long they are taking
Faster and faster until they reach ultimate ecstasy
Later they will awake and gingerly look up to me
Watching the clock on the wall
As time slowly goes by
You thing about the past
Wonder about the future
And analyze too much of what's around you
Wish for things you know will never come true
Fame, fortune, and life with no worries
And maybe even a kid or two
As times goes by, we'll see what's to be
Till then, I'll sit back
And watch the clock on the wall
As time slowly goes by
9/9/09
Time too has legs;
And they march forward incessantly;
While discharging their duty, they let us know…
How silently minutes and hours pass by;
The clock on my wall tells it to me.
How to be active, and kindle the lives of others,
By ever spreading the tick-tock sound on all sides…
And how to awaken the people fast asleep,
By striking the hours at regular intervals;
The clock on my wall tells it to me.
Time is so smart;
It’s not at our beck and call,
All our attempts to arrest it prove futile…
Instead, it’s we who have to run after it;
The clock on my wall tells it to me.
Title of the poem: “GADIYARAM CHUSTE TELISINDI’
Author of the poem: My own composition in ‘Telugu’, a South Indian language.
Inspired By A Translation Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Malabika Ray Choudhury
Date: 29-11-2021
PLACE: 1st
The tick, tick, tick, of the clock on the wall
is a reminder of the passing of time to us all
and with each tick, it seems to say
another part of your life, gone away
So don’t waste these seconds,
these ticks of your life
spend them with your Family,
your children and wife
For the clock on the wall, it ticks for them too
so do all the things, a family should do
spend time together, to talk, laugh and sing
and make all the memories, a good life can bring.
One day in the future, the family will sit
around the table, and hear the clock tick
and memories return, to those who still know
of when the clock ticked, in the days long ago
But now, the digital age is here
and though I listen I cannot hear
the tick, tick, tick, from those days long ago
except in my mind, where the memories still flow
There is a clock
on my wall
Time is measured
like sugar cubes in
a cup of tea
But time is not
so sweet
It wears down out
fragile forms
we are left
on the rocky shores
to fend for ourselves
As the tide of seconds,
minutes, hours and days
rushes in
We do our best to
escape the surging
waters
But eventually the tide
will be too strong
for us
to fight
Grab onto the crescent
moon whil you still
can!
Let yourself dance
before you are
enveloped
Lovers and friends are with
us on the shore
There is a clock
on my wall
and somewhere
a land where there
are no clocks
where time is not
relevant
We'll get there - we'll get there
The Clock on the mantelpiece
Has a story to tell of love
It is a memory left behind
Like that of two turtle doves
My mother was in middle school
My father in her class
They were friends from grade one
How this bond did last.
Mother had a problem
Was always late for school
Trouble was in waking
As parents were in night pool.
They both worked together
In the country's health unit
Her father was a doctor
Mother a matron in Munich.
So to avoid any embarrassment
Father gifted her a clock
Mechanical; with a chime and tock.
She used it to all good use
Cherished the gift from dad
Not aware that some day
They would wed after grad.
I grew up with the click-clack
The hammer chiming alarm,
Alone at times I would admire
Golden hands that bore a charm.
They crawled slowly forward
Across the face of time
Every half hour it would
Announce with a chime.
Now the clocks gone silent
Wheels have stopped to turn,
I look at it in wonder
Curiously filled with concern.
I needed it repaired
Restored to its place
Needed a reliable horologist
To save the clock's face.
Read about just that kind
In a Swiss country town
Went there to meet him
Hoping he'd do a discount.
I was surprised to learn
He would do it for free
Cause that was the last clock made
For a friend named Henry.
He was young then in Munich
Making clocks and watches to sell
Had younger siblings
Had to support by himself.
His parents killed in war time
When bombing over town
They were in the cellar
While we played in wooded ground.
He called me back months later
I saw the clock all done
I offered him a token
A new friendship had begun.
Took the clock back home
Driving all the way
Placed it on the mantelpiece
Where it stands till today.
its ticks
and its quick
and its kind
tells the time
the clock will not fall
its for all
the
CLOCK ON THE WALL
There’s a clock on the wall
And it’s not moving
The sun rains the clouds are moved
A non-moving clock doesn’t mean times standing still
Sweats running off my face I’m perspiring
Daylight turns dark, it’s it is now night
Waters toils rivers flow
Just because the clock on the wall
Stalls and the hands are not moving
I do be believing
Though! The hands are still
Daylight hues turn to dark
The sun and moon rises and sets
We keep ourselves moving
3/3/22
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©