This stepped jest, knobby legged farce
Which, more wobbly, falls;
Old man's, up at that wing'ed
Is but left -laughing!
Air, as they do, a look of
Unrestrained relief.
'Whoopee!' with each quick sharp turn
Their own sky track in.
Could be better
Could be worse
Not quite ready for
the casket & hearse
The antique mechanism
of the old clock had stopped.
The winding should have been
enough -- and yet, though the
pendulum swung back in forth
in perfect rhythm, no comforting
clicks emanated, as was usual,
the reassuring pulse of a consistent
heartbeat, regulator of a healthy
household.
The big hand had paused, 2 minutes
of. I thought, was this an angel, come
to my aid, or a devil, seething more
terror, personifying the foul deed
about to fully unfold? She would be
here, at nine. No doubt, her obsession
with punctuality. 2 minutes till, the
fiend had bound me to a chair. Assembled
the deadly charge, painstakingly attached to the
clock. Gagged as well I had no way of warning her.
2 minutes till...no, 1:58, 1:57, the clock's
now deadly hand had begun to again
advance. I heard her key in the door.
One minute to detonation. The door squeaked
on neglected hinges. "Cut! All right, 10 minute
break" the directed informed us, after shooting
for 4 hours non-stop.
If I held all of the world in the palm of my hand
and it was in my gift to give or to take, or share
I would give it all to halt the trickle of the sand,
indeed, myself, for without you, life is hard to bear.
Ant
Growing
In the line
Of Discipline
To earn the life's goal
Hard work in time
Judge the worth
Of each
Stitch
©Mahtab Bangalee
Complacency is like a sand timer,
each grain a moment slipping
through, a slow trickle of
potential, filling the void
of inaction, until the last
grain falls, and we
find ourselves in
the stillness,
staring at the
empty glass,
haunted by
the echoes
of time gone,
wondering
where our
dreams
have
fad
ed
Three minutes to let the words take flight,
I set the timer, heart racing with delight.
Thoughts scatter like seeds on the breeze,
Each one a whisper, aiming to please.
Tick, tick, the seconds pulse in my mind,
Ideas tumble and whirl, a treasure to find.
A mountain of dreams, a river of fears,
Words pouring like rain, washing the years.
What if I wrote about sunsets ablaze,
Or whispered sweet nothings in an endless gaze?
What if I painted the echoes of laughter,
Or chased after shadows, just what comes after?
The timer is ticking, my heart starts to race,
Each word that I write, a step in this chase.
Emotions unwrapped like gifts on a stand,
In this fleeting moment, I take a bold stand.
time on the wall
ruthlessly marks my life
device sans advance or delay my attains
I'm sick of living my life on a timer
It restarts daily, but it ticks forevermore
There's only one solution to the timer
But it's not available to me
They can't see why I hate the timer
They think the time on it is enough
Sometimes they ask why I need the time
They say, "If the timer bothers you, stop taking the time!"
"We don't take the time. So we don't have a timer. Look at us!"
Oh how I wish it were that simple
They have no timer, but they have all the time
They don't need to take it
They were born with it
I hate my timer
A hip old-timer in Bowling Green
somehow thinks he’s still seventeen
His hair’s Brill Cream slick
He thinks Gidget’s his chic
And he’s sure he’s the next James Dean
2/10/22
i set the kitchen timer
and attempt to beat the clock
it is the only way i can do things mundane
weirdly when the timer goes off
i reset it and begin the next banal task
in the throes of it, I glare at the timer
However, I have to reset it a third, fourth, and maybe a tenth time
to keep going
If there is one thing I despise it is
cleaning, dusting, washing clothes, and paperwork.
The timer is my only inspiration.
There was once a two-timer named Drew
He got caught by his bride to be Sue
Greeted him with a whack
Turning his left eye black
Then she eloped with his best mate Stew
Alexis Y.
01/14/2021
Can we say once as in once upon a time
or do we now say one
I am no longer speaking
I'm busy learning how to mime.
I find it so confusing
and taxing to my brain
I don't think it's amusing
The fact is it's insane
Why have things changed so
It isn't very nice
We are now to say two times
What was wrong with twice
This teacher demanded that I write on cue.
Putting my art through an egg timer.
She forgot about the soul
how inspiration comes in starbursts
not pulled through a narrowing throat.
The egg timer is tipped over
the pencil sleeps in the slot
nothing but sand and egg on paper
what did she expect
Michelangelo or Seurat!
I would like a magic timer please
To turn all the fairy tale frogs back into princes.
And a sparkly gold and silver money tree
To plant in the backyard and share with the neighbors.
I would like a pink pony with a unicorn horn,
Ribbons in her main, with a smart red carriage.
Decorated with roses and sunflowers.
You can sit in it while I roar past in my fire engine clanging the horn.
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