Constrained
like a king not able
to whip a cat
so is my life
with the clock
Poems on the topic: clock
Poems on the topic “clock” on Poets.by.
Small time
among the dead I could be
a sorry stranger
but I consider providence
from the bottom of a clock
Ramification
night gains all
the branches
of my body
as small and intricate
as any clock
Axe
It was late. The lamplight gelled around you
like pine sap thickening into amber.
You were forgetting how to read, losing words
in the exact reverse order of how you learned them decades before,
until the book open on your lap seemed
as blankly comforting as a glass of milk.
Death had come, but not for the reasons usually alleged.
He found himself enchanted by your bones,
which were light as piccolos, & your skull’s smile
faintly visible under the skin
like a subliminal advertisement for eternal spring.
The clock stopped in mid-tick.
Your eyes took on a faraway look.
Was I supposed to run after you? I was tired.
My trademark guitar had long since gone electric –
an axe, as they say.
Convolution
I drink to chance
and to excess
to see myself
home to her rose
of a clock
The unexamined life
a question sore as a scar
would go to a good grave
not send a letter to hope
here lies the moon
great as a clock
telling pretty stories
Time keeper
church can cloy
but not a clock
and so I pray
to be true now
give them some toy
but my aim is thin
Radio alarm clock
wakened clock
not a minute’s space between
news of hurt
Taking stock
I walk to survey the water
which I can never read
at home with my wife and clock
I count my money
Day planner
a clock dark with tocking
cold ash of an afternoon
I keep poor company
Miser
I find great convenience
in having my stomach
as a clock
for a clock is a gun
for heirs to make
the best of a bad market
so we part very kindly
and I dine at home
Recluse
out of my mind
I sat in my closet
no world called to me
but a clock
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