With its disparate arms it beckons.
Look at its face, its eyes half-passed closed,
With a mouth smiling counter-clockwise,
It ticks to me and it tocks to me.
But I still cannot understand how,
Legless, time runs out on me so fast.
(Honorary Mention in Brian Strands's No 1491 Contest)
The heart’s rebellion knows not retreat;
It craves the face
That it sears in its grave,
And waits, and waits...
Though time may leap, yet still it keeps
The rebel’s notion deeply engraved
In its core, in the iron crest.
It claws through dark, through dust, through end—
A vow that rots, yet never ends,
Entombed… yet breathing within.
It carves its way all alone,
Through the chambers—glass and grit—
Where iron gears grind out the breath.
In the heart’s lonely grave
Awaits a heart, bound still,
Not to love, not to grief,
Yet to some unnamed will.
It beats not for sun or moon,
Nor counts the hours of the day;
But like a clock in a hollow room,
It ticks the wasted years away.
It functions by a frozen law,
A clockwork pulse in a chest of stone;
Too deep for any spring to thaw,
It works its logic all alone.
The old clock ticks
In the silence
Of an empty room
A laborious
Tick…tick….tick
An almost unheard
Meshing of its gears
It loses
A few minutes a week
I reset it
Wishing
That I could regain
Those
….lost
……minutes
Between ticks of eternal clock, I hushed a lifetime of perception.
3rd in 1427 Monoku Line Contest by Brian Strand
I miss the tick-tock heartbeat, the chiming in the hall.
Watching the slow clock hands glide shadows on the wall.
The seconds hand circling, its clicks beating a song,
Time was something you watched; it carried you along.
I miss the clatter of typewriters, banging on their keys,
Whir of tape spools whining, vinyl discs spinning to please.
The flip calendar flopping forward, page after page,
When time was a living thing, not digits in a cage.
Now silence haunts the corners where ticking used to sing,
Digital screens of numbers flash cold, as unfeeling thing.
Yet I miss the winding, waiting, watching for the flow.
The rhythm, sounds, vision, and movement of times long ago.
ZGlance Phattey
is a marvelous movie
it has enough equal parts
to balance even the most
religious or anti religious
person or people.
People often get tired of
the religious reasons for doing
or not doing things. I heard
"The Baronet and Knight were
in dispute due to her belief in
a non- sexual relationship
be fore marriage the movie
tackles the belief and
disbelief of people
needing excuses to due
thinks. Some who
are mighty worshippers.
My sister in laws
lover sued the other man in his
brother-in-laws relationship
for not reporting the honey bees had
ecasped.
They thought it was smart for
with holding the data
due to the Monarch who
wished themthe news due to the
beliefs of those
who refused to study
the catogories before
speaking on sunbject than were never defined
or reserched.
Due to the conflicting laugage and similarities in
laugague
they needed to often write what was needed
to complete =certain tasks
and what.
The words were same but the definitions
were different
it became a challenge
when convaying what was needed.
(the piano can wait, the bloodspots on your ear can become infected!!)
I writ a poem bout poly-ticks
Exposing all its dirty tricks
It caused a stir
Ruffled some fur
Cuz there ain’t nothin’ they can’t fix
As another second ticks off the clock,
who knows what’s coming around the block.
Will today continue to be okay?
Or is something shocking coming our way?
Brace yourself, in case it's a shock. Tick tock.
cool long green carpet
walking bare foot through the grass
ticks hungrily wait
number addicts unfreeze the itch
in their number attics where-in
a'top any...
"logic-call" be
counts in/of...
all four directions as
imaginary number concepts
that be just...
multiples of square roots
of a minus-one...
yielding imaginary pictures giving a
shape/form to illustrate some space-time
that's unseen and so then given...
a number-mask by the mind that's
not of numbing-brrrrrs...
stan sand
Down hall
in another room
a pendulum swings
each second ticks
darkness reigns
and dim glows
reflects barely
on polished brass
quietly sit I
slow passes time
in anguished thought
answers are lost
seeking for
things that I know
are not to be
simply are not
darkness will not
in the coming day
fade away
will always be
continuing on
knowing not where
no way is found
where I would be
chimes the hours
slipping away
in darkness now
will always be
She has fourteen ticks on her back
And she is still alive
I thought she would be dead by number five
How many ticks is it going to take
to kill this old broad, do I buy a snake?
Ticks on her back. How many do you see?
I wish this old crone was anyone except me.
Ticks and Chimes
The pictures on the walls,
and in my books...
are all that I have,
from yesterday,
to remember you by,
and all those that are now gone.
The world is less full,
and I am
lonely.
I know that my time will come also.
I am not afraid.
I know that there is a place for me,
under the big tree...
in the giant green meadow...
where my family will gather
to hug, and hold one another.
There will be those that I love,
and those I have never met before.
It will not matter to any.
It will only matter that we are there,
and the King is real.
The songs that will be sung,
will fill the hearts of the angels,
and they will lift their eyes to the skies
together with us to worship the king.
For now I live,
from day to day.
I wander through the moments.
Those that linger longer than the rest,
and those I can not let go.
They give me peace, and calm.
The clock continues.
Tick... tick, tick,
as I wait for the chime.
clock ticks
moment fleeting
gossamer calm twilight
glistening vermilion aura
Sun leaving, painting sky with crimson hue
past poignant, divine, eternal
breathtaking present thrills
limitless charm
clock ticks
February 8, 2022
"Give Me A Rictameter" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: M.L.Kiser
Syllables (2-4-6-8-10-8-6-4-2) checked by HMS.com
As time ticks away into twilight dusk
Sun in fathomless waters will plummet
The Earth will then wear an assassin’s mask
This in endless succession shall repeat
The grass in silken meadows will wither
Trees clad in green livery will go bare
Youth into infirmity will slither
Body, through years of rugged use will wear
Every beauteous form will lose its charm
All to death’s stygian vault shall return
Until then, lead life without any sham
A good name is all you can strive to earn
You are a dumb player in life’s pantomime
Act your part well until you're merged in Time
(10 syllables each in every line with a total of 140 syllables)
Placed First in the Contest
Sonnet's Salutation Poetry Contest
Sponsor- William Kekaula
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