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Christopher Coyle Poem
Prepare for landing
boeing 747
Its path meandering
descending from heaven
Up here in high definition
the sky as black as molasses
Crisp and clear as when your optician
gave you a first pair of glasses
Dropping through the clouds
with a bump and a shudder
clearing the grey shrouds
the aircraft did judder
Into the night we flew
streets lit by orange glow
I wonder who choose this hue
by which half our lives go
lights on a road perforate the black
crawling no faster than an insect
a solitary car on a secretive track
their journey no one else will inspect
a saviour, a murder, a robber, a lover
their intent there is no way of knowing
too late to find out, the flight is all over
the airport beneath us is growing
Copyright © Christopher Coyle | Year Posted 2009
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Details |
Christopher Coyle Poem
Tick-Tock.. no more like Click-Tut
The cheap plastic clock disapprovingly cuts
through minutes and hours, mornings and days
A relentless reminder of time running away.
Only heard when no one else is around
how much life has passed since I last noticed your sound
Quiet enough to forget, loud enough to distract
the notion of "forever" your persistence attacks.
All the schools, jobs and places you've ever been
all of the faces you've ever seen
all go on without you whilst listening to this clock
an intruding reminder of time you can't restock.
Hearing time being lost I find very menacing
and I know it is impossible for me to do everything
but it serves to remember time eventually stops
I think I will keep the cheap plastic clock.
Copyright © Christopher Coyle | Year Posted 2009
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