Hold me tight until it hurts,
Into your icy heart I melt and fade.
Where the night shelters me beneath
its carpet of twinkling firefly sky.
Oh, the light I hate like pain..
into the bright, scorching fame.
Hold me tight until it hurts.
Till the jungle meets the gentle beach,
Roar into my ears until it stings;
let every rambling sound be drowned..
failure and loser calls still gonging.
Hold me tight until it hurts.
Into the rain we hold as young,
Swaying side by side, we drift,
my tears pooling beneath our feet.
Hold me tight until I drain.
As the storm begins to quiet,
and night and day embrace again,
I’ll release you for a single breath..
Hold me tight until that comes.
I am frustrated and annoyed by his ticking,
or perhaps it should be labeled the 'tocking'
By the never-ending tongue wagging clicking
in the language better known as 'clocking'
Must Grandfather Time command my life?
He so rudely continues without a thought
that his hammer yammering rhythm of strife
mocks the beating pulse of my human heart
What a wonderful fantasy my life would be
if for one day I'd not hear his unrelenting beat
I'd be stress free if time would stand still for me
for without his gonging life would be so sweet
In solace of night, I seek sleep and close my eyes
in need of escape and retreat from earthly chore
but I cannot find a moment of tranquil paradise
for his insistent knelling peals out once more
Each quarter hour his mallet chimes out to me
but his clappers sing off key in monotonous song
Not a lyrical lullaby, but a torturous rhapsody
whose tireless verses antagonize me far too long
I'm tenacious to put an end to his wagging tongue
and shackle the swinging motion of his pendulum
Each hour of the day and night would go by unsung
Being silenced is the price paid by the meddlesome
It seemed to me, at the outset, an abacus,
Of nursery kids; and, lo, looked less glamorous;
It had scales fixed on a piano skeleton,
While an abacus shone like beads in gelatin...!
It has an Asian origin, someone told me,
(Does it mean continent chauvinism sets me free?)
I listened to it once, as a snake its charmer,
After all, can any music be a harmer...?
Rough, razor-sharp, clattering, bubbling, and doubling,
Shrill, hollow, ticking, transparent, and less troubling;
Odd rough ringing, clanging, and gonging pulled my soul,
I felt, in xylophonic tune, I had a role...!
Harmony, as that of the other rhythmic tools,
In xylophone too, like deep freshwater lakes, pools;
Tunes and tones, like echoes from mountains and hills filled,
My heart, with its melodic mood, got wildly thrilled...!!!
28 April 2023
Rhymes Checked At: Rhyme Zone
Syllables Checked At: How Many Syllables
"A Whiskers Tale: Watching the Detectives"
Her whiskers tickle
when the lights go out
hormonal huntress
on the prowl
Moonlight chasing
itsy bitsies
up the wall
a silent investigator
tap dancing silently
soft as mink and sibilant
paws poised
across a different kind of
polished slippery dance floor
criminally inclined
researching minds
a baby in her
isolation crib
for sure
soft-shoe shuffling
never bored.
(LadyLabyrith / 2021)
"Dans le fond des forêts votre image me suit."
"Watching the Detectives" / Elvis Costello
https://youtu.be/xO_sDtI2bYk
"Everyday I Write the Book"
https://youtu.be/ekrzLtCKMJg
" I shut my doors on that dark guilt,
I bolt the door, each door I bolt.
Blood quickens, gonging in my ears:
The panther's tread is on the stairs,
Coming up and up the stairs..."
Inspiration: "MoonLight"
"Pursuit"/Sylvia Plath
https://neuroticpoets.com/plath/poem/pursuit/
The rain is coming
The clouds are gonging
But recipient land wails.
The Clock
(advice to grandparents)
By Franklin Price
6/22/2105
Embrace the ticking of the clock
The playing of the chime
The wonders that are happening
With the passing tock of time
Grasp the chains and lift the weights
That move the hands around
Time will move regardless
If the clock makes not a sound
Participate in passing time
In the ticking and the tock
In the chiming and the gonging
Of what is now grandfather's/mother's clock
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