Clock Poems - Poems about Clock

I found this on a You Tube Christian podcast: An elderly woman, when she was 66 years old, became critically sick for two years and was abandoned by all but not by our God! Friends and family members were totally worn out from taking care of her and not because a lack of their compassion. They found...

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Already the morning is full of momentum and is beginning to crash through the defences, leaving pieces scattered behind. There are always broken things left in the wake of time. Take that Mickey Mouse clock for example with the snapped spring and missing hand, the toy truck with the bent and rusted out trailer, the football with its perished bladder. You would gather up all the broken...

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I’m bound to a bowl of rusted paint. Why don’t they relate to my disabled state? Is it the way I row the boat? Or is it the way I carry cows and goats? I will faint, And they will pray. But someday…I’ll say, I won’t duck into their pepper spray. Cauce, I know the way to Heaven’s gate. I’m stuck in a fate...

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i was a clock. not flashy, not loud. just mine. time passed the way i let it— slow, careful, soft. each tick a heartbeat. each hour a boundary. then he came. not with kindness, not with care— with want. with hands like force, like he thought time would bend if he pushed hard enough. he didn’t ask what hour i was in. he didn’t care that i wasn’t ready. he took...

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Time — a ticking bomb that will one day fall silent, with no remorse for your unfinished business. You can try to delay your time, but it will only make the silence louder. In your final hours, you may finally realize how green the trees were, how smooth the water flowed. Just then, you’ll long to see your first blade of grass...

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The grandfather clock A grandfather clock sat in pride of place in my childhood home I would sit at its base and watch the magical movements of the pendulum I would talk to the clock as if were a close friend As I grew older our friendship continued One evening I tossed and turned in bed, sleep eluded tonight laying there...

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Still a child at heart tho' older are some other parts and only for a lark back to my childhood here I hark I remember a rhyme in the far reaches of my mind hickory dickory dock the mice ran up the clock the clock struck one the mouse fell down luckily the plucky other ducked shucked and jived escaped survived got out alive and ran away to live another...

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I am no longer of use. That much is clear. They pass me by like I’m furniture— just another shape gathering dust in the corner of the kitchen where light rarely lands. My face, once proud, is smudged now— not by time, but by its absence. I used to hold their mornings together: 6:45, the hiss of the kettle. 7:02, cereal spiraling into bowls. 7:58, the door slammed...

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Burning the midnight oil while writing this poem one line at a time looking for reason searching for meaning making words scan and having them rhyme consider the hands of a clock as around the dial they rotate some arrive early (tick-tock tick-tock) others come in late one is fast the other slow round and round and round they go observe this strange conundrum it's a paradox...

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Where there's a will there's a funeral death is a fact of life a grave undertaking for a mortician and one day some day you and I will wake up dead hopefully the lifetime led was of our own making too late for looking back no regrets and yet it's appalling when we wind up in a winding sheet waiting on that beir aside from six feet under where do we go from...

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Clock Humming Clocks hands moving slowly In no hurry With no worries Content and humming Clocks chiming Time wondering With no company Some people are the same Parallel reminiscing Color’s fading Time crawling No complaints Hearts content No burdens Take it easy Just out of curiosity Eyes are glazed In a haze Delirium sometimes Clock...

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It's a fresh day To play in a new way To convey each light ray More pray, no delay, fair pay We stay where we lay What can I say? Stand up, quit your sit Take a breath, rest a bit Ensure you stay fit Get ready for the hit Grab your jumping kit Fall not into pit As he'd walk into your block In seconds, he'll...

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It stands in dust on the mantle high It's hands long still beneath the sky Once it chimes with a golden cheer Marking love, and loss, and every year Now silence pulls where rhythm lays Time forgot to come this way It's face is cracked, brass grown pale A ghost adrift without a sail The hours sleep behind the glass Moments trapped that cannot...

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A woman splayed upon a lofty beach— the drunkard’s stumble-street-strut-jumble-key— BUY NOW, AND GET THE SECOND [this/that] FREE! —and what’s this cracked out weirdo got to preach? …”about the senate’s 3rd bid to impeach…”— .(Get lost.-)—.IF YOU THINK YOU’LL NEVER BELIE— look,look!a man crushed by a falling tree!— —(“oh!—my God!”)—nvm—it’s…freedom…of speech? Get real! Wake up! Which trope must I invoke?— (Uh?)—GET REAL RELIEF...

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