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The Clock
Contributed by
bobbyclay56
on
Tuesday, 25th October 2011 @ 12:18:17 PM in AEST
Topic:
ChildrensPoetry
|
The Clock
Is this a mental aberration or is my sanity being mocked
An illusion brought on by fever or is it the ticking of a clock
It sits there, high on mantle, numbers bold about its face
Out of style, out of date and more than a little out of place
With the clearing of some unknown vapor, my fevered mind remembers
Finding it among the ashes of a friend’s home last December
It no more than crossed my threshold then something strange I must avow
Began pulling me into confusion as much as my reasoning would allow
I sit here desperately diverting my attention staring deep into the fire
While the evil thing sits above me, staring down from its pyre
I feel it staring, almost burning with a face that has no eyes
And it pulls me ever to it with its hands ten fingers shy
The excruciating pressure from the unwinding of its spring
Distorting my reality and squeezing sanity from my brain
I could toss it in the fire, but then what would that imply
Common sense lost to madness a fevered mind could not defy
I thought this is utter nonsense a loss of reason, to be tortured by a clock
It’s just the fever and nothing else, and then I realized the ticking stopped
Alas it’s just my imagination as I nervously run my fingers through my hair
Wiping beads of perspiration from my forehead, falling back into my chair
The pressure became even greater when I no longer heard the thing
Then I asked myself to my horror was it the clock that kept me sane
In delirium to the mantle I grabbed the key and began to wind
Burned alive by the fever, laughing madly while it chimed
Was it the fever, was it the madness or some strange unknown power
That makes a man rewind a clock while being consumed by a fire
Needy friends searched through the rubble of the place of my demise
When someone found it in the ashes and loudly claimed it as his prize
Toward home he quickly hurried clutching tightly to what he’d found
Two months later they heard him laughing while all about him his house burns down
Poem by R. E. Poore
Copyright ©
bobbyclay56
... [
2011-10-25 12:18:17]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: The Clock
(User Rating: 1 )
by xHeathenx on
Tuesday, 25th October 2011 @ 05:48:23 PM AEST
(User
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a Message)
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Nice. I love poems like this, that end up being a complete story in such a small piece of writing. I love to try and make stories out of poems. I also love how well you wrote and organized your poem. The way every line was almost as long as its counterpart makes it look so symetrical, which granted does nothing to a poem, it makes it look so much more neat. Also I like your pace and tempo set in here. You do very well at keeping it. I admire that.
You also reminded me of the story of the pocke*****ch, which correct me if I'm wrong was written by Poe right? The dead man buried beneath the floorboards? It's a nice story and with its ending you can expect a dozen more. |
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