On the upstroke, the tick was louder, until the second hand got
to the ten
On the downstroke, the tock slid like a water snake in the damp grass, greasy
It was this constant grinding and sliding that kept me from drowsing, dreaming
At the bells I would jump a little and thank the fates that I was still alive
On the downstroke, the tock slid like a water snake in the damp grass, greasy
It was this constant grinding and sliding that kept me from drowsing, dreaming
At the bells I would jump a little and thank the fates that I was still alive
When you are awake with fevered thoughts of the day to come,
knowing your sun will collapse
It is impossible to close your eyes, red, gritty eyes, giving your last gold piece for a spoon
You dare not speak out, or scream, the sound would surely cause internal damage
And darkness is not as complete when you hear yourself bleating like a separated mother goat
The tick is a reminder of the sins that I committed
without a second thought of collateral damageIt is impossible to close your eyes, red, gritty eyes, giving your last gold piece for a spoon
You dare not speak out, or scream, the sound would surely cause internal damage
And darkness is not as complete when you hear yourself bleating like a separated mother goat
The tock is a lovers hand caressing, telling me to put in a good word when I meet the maker
I tell you this, there is no clock, and there is no lover, only darkness and a mind sick with despair
The only antidote is the opening of a door and treacherous needles of light, skating on ice too thin
The opening stanza was a surprise. I like the lines:
ReplyDelete‘On the downstroke, the tock slid like a water snake in the damp grass, greasy’ and
‘The tock is a lovers hand caressing’.
Brother, you are GOOD. A treasure chest opens every time I click on you.
ReplyDeleteWonderful poetry. I loved the flow of your words and image of death you painted.
ReplyDeleteThis is such a contrast with the sweet bunny... I almost imagine him being the grim reaper
ReplyDeleteWhoa! Darkness, darkness, cover me in endless night. Hallucinatory and sharp, Hero Mine.
ReplyDeleteThere is a strong voice in this poem of ticking and tocking.
ReplyDeleteDark moments can ride the hands of a clock. This is powerful, real in so many ways. You always "bring it" when you write.
ReplyDeleteWow! Too many wonderful images to single any out. The whole builds to an inexorable finale; powerful stuff.
ReplyDelete"fevered thoughts of the day to come, knowing your sun will collapse," yes the sun will dim until it collapses. Will there be a ball of embers like the almost burned piece of firewood? I would hope not for me, just leave when the flame goes out. Very well done, every part.
ReplyDelete..
Excellent, powerful poem!
ReplyDeleteI am sorry I missed this poem earlier in the month. I am just now revelling in your talent for long and detailed sentences, and the way you attache emotion to description. I wish you wrote on a more regular basis!
ReplyDeleteIts weird, whenever I do write, I still am writing for a handful of people, you being one, that have been a part of my online presence for years. I am glad to still write here even if not as often, it makes me happy. Thanks for the read SA!!!
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