• Such a fancy grandfather clock
• Standing in the center of the manor
• She bought from some guy at the dock
• For a little over $30
Wonky grandfather clock you are so much fun to see
Loving it that my father created you just for me.
Your curvy sides make me smile, at least once a day.
Your chimes and bells love to whistle and clink my way.
No one else has such a clock I am pretty sure.
You make me happy, your intentions are pure.
I keep waiting for mice to run up onto you dear clock.
In my mind hearing “hickory dickory dock”.
Tick, Tock, Tick..
The pendulum swings back
And drains away
Another drop
Of my sanity
Tock, Tick, Tock..
The pendulum swings forth
And drains away
Another drop
Of my mind
Tick, Tock, Tick..
How long must I stare?
Until it all stops?
Until I am freed?
Until next time I’ll stand?
Tock, Tick, Tock..
My mind is a prison
Yet still, I can’t move
Not until it stops
Until I’m released
Tick, Tock, Tick..
Maybe if I died
The clock would stop ticking
I’ll finally be free
From this way I’ve been living
Tock, Tick, Tock..
But how can I die
If I can’t even move?
I can do nothing but stare
In the eyes of my captor
Tick, Tock, Tick..
I’m still so young
Why am I here?
Fixed on a grandfather clock
What’s happened to me?
Why must I keep hearing
Tock, Tick, Tock..
My mind is a prison
My clock is a prison
I long to break free.
Tick, Tock, Tick..
He is the happiest clock I have ever had!
This was said by my aunt who is never sad.
I named him Bruce, after my kind stepdad.
How do you know he’s a guy asked Farmer Tad.
Because he is a grandfather clock she promptly said.
His moon face is pretty, his wood is burned red.
He has copper hands made out of the best of lead.
I keep him in my room, right beside my bed.
Dusty elegance
the grandfather clock has failed
hypnotic and slow
Where did the time go?
memory which brought your voice
Last tick and last tock ?
Gold-plated numbers
the sound as cradle to rock
shaves minutes and hours
In your life's long book
blessings in bliss and wonder
... his treasure and pride
In the last chapter
you broke your solemn promise
... maelstrom of despair
Immortality -
regularly beating heart
a clock with a soul
The days comes fluttering back
I know you love him
But if you're honest with yourselves.
It's become Greenwich Village obvious,
that grandfather clock is having trouble keeping time.
The grandfather clock is exhausted; his cogwheels are misaligned.
....and to all the others that hate him.
The very least you can do at this point is to not mock him anymore.
Karma can be a hellhound at the throat of mockers
He has paid his dues many times over
Time to put the old clock out to pasture.
Let the spring raindrops keep time.
We'll all call it the time of compassion.
Grandfather Clock
(A Variation on a Triolet)
When I was young, not four foot tall,
My Grandpa’s clock I remember well
Stood and chimed, alone in the hall,
When I was young, not four foot tall.
Taller than I, standing by the wall.
Older than he? I could not tell.
My Grandpa’s clock - I remember well!
When I was young, not four foot tall.
My Grandma polishing the fine grained wood,
I remember the hands, time’s steady measure.
Day and night the clock in the hall-way stood,
My Grandma polishing the fine grained wood.
Pacing the hours across my passing childhood
The pendulum swung in timeless leisure.
I remember the hands - time’s steady measure,
My Grandma polishing the fine grained wood.
ABaAabBA
06/13/2021
Thrown on a heap
Of rubbish
Beyond the reach
Of a little child
The old grandfather clock
Lying on its side,
And how he longed
To look once more
At the strange mechanism
Of time,
The curious little cogs and wheels
That moved in precise alignment
Measuring out the brief moments of life,
Even now at the eleventh hour
Before the match was struck
And the fire consumed it all.
W.A CHOLT. Copyright Fergal O Reilly. 2020
Best wishes to all on poetrysoup for 2021.
A grandfather clock sure is grand
Chime the time, on an antique stand
But if late you get
There's one sure bet
That old clock won't give you a hand!
Like a venerable old sage the grandfather clock
Stands in the far corner of the room,
And day after day the clock would tic
Like the beating of the heart.
No matter what went on in the house
It continued to keep perfect time,
And through the years it turned out to be
A faithful old friend of mine.
There were times the clock would stop
Or need some professional care,
But I would soon have it running again,
I just couldn't be without my old friend.
Twelve years have passed since I bought that old clock,
And it still continues to chime,
It has seen me go through some awful times in my life,
It's been a real comfort to me my old friend.
Swish thud goes the pendulum,
Giving every second significance,
With each moment as important.
Taking me into myself, for myself,
Able to access my abstraction,
Feeling my own presence positively.
The beats remind me of my heartbeat,
There, but not visible: just by intelligence;
Only these clocks emphasise the seconds.
Tradition can stink, but here it settles:
The invention suffices to help me think,
And ponder on my whereabouts.
The anchor escapement mechanism transcends,
Slowness for me to grasp various possibilities,
Ramifies that there are ways of leaving.
Of leaving the said, the ornate and the strict:
The old can often aid departure even from them,
As given, never to be claimed by anyone.
I am quite annoyed by the ticking,
or perhaps it's called 'tocking,'
by the ever-present clicking
in a language known as 'clocking.'
Must Grandfather Time command my life?
He so rudely continues without a thought
that his hammering rhythm of strife
mocks the pulse of my human heart.
What a wild fantasy my life would be
to exist without his relentless beat.
If time could but stand still for me,
the silence would be so sweet.
In solace of night I close my eyes
and seek escape from earthly chore.
I cannot find a tranquil paradise
for his gong peals out once more.
Each quarter hour he calls to me
as if singing a monotonous song.
But his tune is never a rhapsody.
Incessant verses are much too long.
I am eager to stop his wagging tongue
and shackle the swing of his pendulum.
Each hour would then go by unsung.
At last he'd know his time had come.
Tick tock tick tock goes your clock
time passes and passes my time
tick tock, tick tock goes my life time
Quarter hour you sing a song
Every quarter you sing away the time
Chimes and ding dong on the hour
My power is fading with the sun set
Sing me a lullaby all the night long
Nightmares of phantoms stealing my life
Singing a lullaby while tightening my noose.
GRANDFATHER CLOCK
christmas eve
old hall clock chimes twelve
this silent rush
An old pal of mine standing nigh seven feet tall,
Basks in regal splendor against the wall.
He's well over one hundred and fifty years old.
Could he speak, Oh! The tales to be told!
That old friend that in my home doth dwell,
Is a stately grandfather clock with open well.
Made when craftsmen took pride in their guild,
'Twas crafted from sturdy German oak to build.
The hours are tolled with sonorous tone.
He's seen so many events now bygone.
Holidays, births, deaths, family mirth,
And even several wars upon this earth!
Every so often I oil his wheels and gears.
After all, he's getting along in years!
I need my old friend for succor and ease.
For that reason him I shall ever appease!
He's seen the birth of a new millennium,
And with each arc of his ponderous pendulum,
Is a reminder never to squander time away,
But to live a productive life each passing day!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
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