The Wrist Watch Man
He is marching dusty highways and he's riding bitter trails,
His eyes are clear and shining and his muscles hard as nails.
He is wearing Yankee khaki and a healthy coat of tan,
And the chap that we are backing is the Wrist Watch Man.
He's no parlour dude, a-prancing, he's no puny pacifist,
And it's not for affectation there's a watch upon his wrist.
He's a fine two-fisted scrapper, he is pure American,
And the backbone of the nation is the Wrist Watch Man.
He is marching with a rifle, he is digging in a trench,
He is swapping English phrases with a poilu for his French;
You will find him in the navy doing anything he can,
For at every post of duty is the Wrist Watch Man.
Oh, the time was that we chuckled at the soft and flabby chap
Who wore a little wrist watch that was fastened with a strap.
But the chuckles all have vanished, and with glory now we scan
The courage and the splendor of the Wrist Watch Man.
He is not the man we laughed at, not the one who won our jeers,
He's the man that we are proud of, he's the man that owns our cheers;
He's the finest of the finest, he's the bravest of the clan,
And I pray for God's protection for our Wrist Watch Man.
poem by Edgar Albert Guest
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Just When I Thought I'd Seen It All
OK I know it's a liitle early
For Christmas poems
But the catalogues have been coming
By mail for weeks
So I'll keep this short
For those of you or
People on your shopping list
Who still have self-winding watches
Wrist that is
That need help getting wound
It's hard to believe
But they have come up with a cure
This machine $100 to $200
Holds one or up to four
Wrist watches - - - at last count
I only needed one
If you haven't had enough activity
During the day
To get your watch wound
It will do it for you while you rest
However if you can't get your watch to go
I can't see why you'd need more rest
I cut the advertisement out
So I can look at it
From time to time
And remember when
At 11: 02 - - mail was early that day
I saw it all
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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I Couldnt Think Of A Title
scuoffan me
until there is nolight
cuz my wrist
cut my throat
and watch me
drown in a sea
of red
sent me to hell
watch my soul
burn
watch my heart
bust
murder me
clean and quick
torture me
let ur angry out
and then tell me
you love me
poem by Jazmine Staples
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Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Hate and pain, feelin’ it in my veins.
Hate and pain etched in my mind.
Love and hate are all the same,
Life and death are all our problems, but you treat them as there mine.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death are all the same in my mind.
Life and death are all the same,
Play with fire and get burned.
Accusations flying my way, will they ever stop?
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Life and death are all the same.
Life and death, when will it end?
Anger and frustration all boiling to the top.
Vengeance and Violence seems to be the only way.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, is it my turn yet?
Death is living again.
Death is bliss I will never discover.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, a new fire is born.
Death is an eternal fire being blown out.
Death is being free from the shackles of life.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, it’s our destiny.
Death is the only escape.
Death is the forth stomach of a cow.
By Ariel Morris.
poem by Ariel Morris
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She Cries
She cries when she is sad,
She cries when she is hurt,
She cries for all the little things,
She has been hurt so much,
She feels useless,
She feels like she is just slipping away,
She cuts her wrist,
She cries for help but no one sees her,
Watch her pain,
Watch her dreams fades away,
Watch her die,
Just listen to her when she is down in the blue,
She didn’t know what kind of friends she was making until they start to threaten her,
That girl is me,
I have went through a lot but still tries to hang in there.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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Losing A Watch
losing a watch
you realize
the importance
of time
you go back
to your room
and search
for it in the
bathroom
it is not there
anymore, you
cannot sleep
and always think
where the hell
could it be
you use it in the
morning and it
was still with
you at the office
and you figure out
if it was still on
your wrist, you
wrestle with
remembering,
retrace, recall,
piece by piece
imagine if it
was yourself that
was lost,
you manage
somehow to
find where were
you from the
beginning
back to your watch
where could it be now?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lose you
tears flow from my eyes
my mind is racing
palms are sweaty
as you tell me you don’t want to do this anymore
you cant
you don’t believe me when I say I love you
you think I’ve fallin out of love with you
and your questioning your self if I ever loved you at all
I’m thinking what have I done
what did I do
what will I ever do without you
the tears are clouding my eyes
like smoke at the end of a waterfall
I run over you and try to kiss you
thinking that will make it better
but you push me away
and tell me I cant change your mind
that your leaving and that’s final
you walk out of the door
not one tear rolls down your face
I droop to the floor crying
I crawl to the porch
watch you drive off without even slowing down
I collapsed on the porch and the last thing I thought is
when I lay my head down and drift off to sleep
I hope I never wake up
cause without you there is no point in me living
for you are who I am today
and you are in me
without you I am not whole
once you are whole you will die if you become one half again
I walked into the bedroom with the razor blade
because you had taken the gun
muttering the words I cant do this not without you
I slice my wrist as I watch the blood gush from my wrist
I pass out because of the sudden blood loss
you will always have me
so why did I
have to lose you
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Wrist Watch Blues
That
Wrist watch
Was given to
Her when she retired
From work
5 years ago
And she wears it with pride
Every weekend
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Man at the Bus Stop on Halloween
The others, of course,
are more rabid than he
but less apt to show it.
Whenever he strikes,
he never romps off.
He stands with the wrist
that he's snatched
from the lady
tight in his teeth
as he waits with a smile
for the wagon.
He's one of the few
wrist-snatchers still
on the streets of Chicago,
and he makes his rounds
in old tennies.
His technique is simple:
He dives for the purse hand,
gives it a whack, and severs
the wrist without slobber,
then stands like a Vatican Guard
with the wrist in his teeth
until he is certain
he has no pursuers.
At night in his dreams he sees
the women whose wrists
he has held in his teeth.
They stand at the bus stop
like Statues of Liberty,
shrieking and waving
their stumps like flares.
He prays their screams
will bring to a frieze
the patrol cars glowing
in the middle of the street
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Bleeding Wrist
Another time has come
For me to cut my wrist again
You left me in the dust
Said I was cheating
But I never was
You had my only heart and
You broke it again
My wrist are bleeding because of you
You broke me down until I was nothing
More than a memory of your Raping Dream
Caught in the middle
Of a terrible nightmare
Bleeding with broken pain
Caught inside this fog of fear
Listening to your voice
Which was once soothing to me
Time and time again is but
Just now a memory
Of you and the warmth of your hands
Pain and pain
Of agony once again
Bleeding wrist of concurrent pain
My Father's Hand
I like to wear a band around my wrist,
an amulet of copper, links of bling,
a hippy weave of cotton or dried grass.
Reminds me of a change my father made
as I grew up from toddler to walker;
crossing the road he stops holding my hand
and wraps his finger and thumb around my wrist.
My bracelet now is like the brag of a teenager leaving home
and flashing his cell-phone where father's number sleeps.
I wear my father's hand around my wrist.
poem by Gerard Rochford
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Whatever the right hand findeth to do, the left hand carries a watch on its wrist to show how long it takes to do it.
quote by Ralph W. Sockman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Once Or Twice
I have seen her maybe once or twice and,
She's very nice and lovely lady who has come to town;
But by my sweet laps she will have her full rest one day.
My name is Love and i am found in the company of Knowledge and Intelligence,
And i know it when i do grow lean because my wrist watch will surely tell me.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Getting Out From Time
mechanically all that the fingers do
is take off the watch
from the wrist
put it on the computer table
turn off
the switch and
rest
what choice have these fingers
when the spinal column begins to sound
the aching bells?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Death And Incoherence
He awoke
in much the same way
he drifted into sleep
incoherently.
reaching for the milk pitcher
as he would for a beer
his head down
& expecting a full
heady brew
after dressing accordingly
in funeral attire
he looked at the mirror
in himself
at his hands
removed his watch
from his wrist
unaware the time he had
anyhow.
What If Time Travelled In A Straight Line?
the hands of time travel in a very small circle
of our watch.
the sound is minimalistic, only the wrist is disturbed.
or the wall. or the bed.
everyday round the clock. Faithful.
i like it to travel on a very straight line. Have an edge.
I will push it. It will fall. I want it dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Daybreak Song
Daybreak Song
Soon it will be morning and I can’t have drink
only rummies drink in the morning.
But I have a fear inside me that will not go away
and I know all the smart people will say something
like; “face the truth, ” but not saying what that
truth is. And if you are impolite and ask them
they waffle about their childhood and you can see
they are not being honest. Now I have a watch
on my arm, I never had a wrist watch before but
the woman I live with bought me one as it would be
good for my self respect, like I should go around
hating myself. On the terrace I can see a new day is
about to break, I do not like the idea of that, but
will not worry about it I will simply postpone my
dreams and sleep till sunlight hits my face and
I know it will be ten in the morning and I can´t have
a drink unless I’m a rummy.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Watch Out
Watch your eyes
it may see reactions
Watch your reaction
it may enthuse emotions
Watch your emotion
it may compose thoughts
Watch your thought
it may become words
Watch your word
it may become a habit
Watch your habit
it may become character
Watch your character
it may become your identity
Finally, watch your identity
it may become your fate
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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We Shall Meet Soon
we shall soon meet
and i shall wear the best of what i have
an off-white shirt
the khaki pants, clear reading glasses
i'll sport my shortest hair
i'll wear my black shoes with mud on its side
no socks, no wrist watch, no cell phone,
nothing to smoke, nothing to say
no word from me when we meet
i will sip my coffee beside you
no promises no talks about heaven
neither hell, you talk i will listen,
you tell me stories i will be patient
tell me more about hellos
skip the sad stories about goodbyes.
let there be no time that runs
you keep on talking
i shall listen. And if you wish
kiss me and we shall not mind
what they will say.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Waltz Wave
In
my car
parked.
seven
eleven
hot spot
for
homeless
and police
coffee doughnuts
and spare change
change hands
as
hands change
on the watch
on my
wrist
in my
car
poem by Ray Schreiber
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Save Me
Think you know things about me,
I get yelled at, laughed at, pushed around by others almost all my life, been hit and bullied by other almost all my life,
Been raped, been blamed at,
How I wish my would end,
Save me,
You can’t even save me,
You can’t change me,
Everything’s my fault,
I cut my wrist,
Watch it bleed,
Looking at my scars,
Save me,
From this life,
Can’t run no more,
How long will it take for you to notice I want to die,
I hate this life,
I wish it would end now,
Soon or later,
I would die,
If or when I do,
I hope that this was meant to be,
Safe from this nightmare,
Help me overcome this.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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