Clock short poem

Photo by Slipshod Photog

Her heart was like a clock that I wanted to stop and rewind the dial back.
Remembering the beginning.
Following the curve of ticks as everything around disappeared.
The ticks and tonks that throb as pulse.
The blossom of smiles and times that reflected off glass.
To live in the darkness of closed eyes and reflect on genuine smiles.
The whirlwind of dials advancing into a darkness we both never knew.
A familiar scent becoming a door.
Her heart a clock filled with different size springs and dials.
A circular cubicle that sped fast.
A theory of time.
Her heart was a clock that I wanted to stop and wind back the dial to the beginning.
Across arms and lines that separated how much time has really passed

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of

The Clock Guy

The Clock Guy prose poem

There once Lived a man named Mr McDocks, he loved one thing and THAT thing was clocks. He fixed them and sold them; he had his own shop, he treasured them always; it JUST wouldn’t stop. He had watches, grandfathers

Friday And Work Clock

Friday And Work Clock short poem

Here I enter my bureau cube Greet my co-workers and Mr. Big Blue too. Show them the picture of the latest TV I bought, Because last month’s raise I got! They plan plan plan … And invite selves in my

Chasing The Clock

Chasing The Clock short poem

Sitting here waiting while the clock face chases forward my memories bewildered and twisted, with unborn thoughts… Seeing things I’ve waited for all these years just go by as tear drops now, like a paper book each page is turned,

Clock Maker (v2)

Clock Maker (v2) prose poem

Solo, I am clock maker born September 22nd, a Virgo/Libra mix insane, look at my moving parts, apart yet together, holes in air, artistic perfection, mechanical misfits everywhere, life is a brass lever, a wordsmith, an artist at his craft.

The Clock

The Clock long poem

As an infant I did not know how I troubled my mother day and night I did not know that I used to cry the whole night while mother used to be awake all the while I did not know