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Four o'clock this afternoon,
Fifteen hundred miles away:
So it goes, the crazy tune,
So it pounds and hums all day

Four o'clock this afternoon,
Earth will hide them far away:
Best they go to go so soon,
Best for them the grave to-day.

Had she gone but half so soon,
Half the world had passed away.
Four o'clock this afternoon,
Best for them they go to-day.

Four o'clock this afternoon,
Love will hide them deep, they say;
Love that made the grave so soon,
Fifteen hundred miles away:

Four o'clock this afternoon,
Ah, but they go slow to-day:
Slow to suit my crazy tune,
Past the need of all we say.

Best it came to come so soon,
Best for them they go to-day:
Four o'clock this afternoon,
Fifteen hundred miles away.

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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The Clock Keeps Ticking

I want alone to be
I want to drown in lonely sea
But the clock keeps ticking

I want to stop
I want to forever halt
But the clock keeps beating

I want to run
I want far away from land
But the clock keeps pursuing

I want to hide
I no more want to think of fight
But the clock keeps shouting

I want to rest
I want in dream hibernate
But the clock keeps breaking

I want to sing
I want to strengthen the spring
But the clock keeps shaking

I want to only follow
I no longer want to know
But the clock keeps pumping

I want to hurt
I don’t care if I should hate
But the clock keeps moving

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Afternoon Tea

Tea time wont be the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I think about that small cafe
Thats where we used to meet each day
And then we used to sit a while
And drink our afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take sugar with tea (afternoon tea)
You take milk if you please (afternoon tea)
Like you talking to me
Because you ease my mind
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Tea time still aint the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I went to our cafe one day
They said that donna walked away
Youd think at least she might have stayed
To drink her afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
Every day of the week (afternoon tea)
Please come along if you like
Because I like you, girl
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Six O'clock

I heard the Ave Maria at six o'clock,
Today hear crimes on the radio at six o'clock.
I watched The Little Princess on tv at six o'clock,
Today watch explicit sex at six o’clock.
I was playing catch-up with my friends at six o'clock,
Today lonely children play atari at six o'clock.
I drank hot soup at six o’clock,
Today guys smoke crack at six o'clock.
I prayed to the guardian angel at six o'clock,
Today they kill people at six o'clock.
I studied algebra at six o'clock,
Today are planned crimes at six o'clock.
I was happy at six o'clock,
Today are all scared at six o'clock.

Parody in honor of Llorca

poem by Aschelminto Da Silva
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It's Five O'Clock Somewhere

[Alan:]
The sun is hot and that old clock,
is movin' slow, and so am I.
Work day passes like molasses,
in winter time, but it's July.
Getting paid by the hour,
and older by the minute.
My boss just pushed me,
over the limit.
I could call him something,
think I'll just call it a day...
Pour me something tall and strong.
Make it a hurricane, before I go insane.
It's only half past twelve. But I don't care,
it's five o'clock somewhere.
This lunch break is gonna take
all afternoon, half the night.
Tomorrow morning I know there'll be hell to pay,
but, hey, that's all right.
I ain't had a day off now, in over a year.
My Jamaican vacation's gonna start right here.
If the phone's for me you can tell them
I just sailed away....
Pour me something tall and strong.
Make it a hurricane, before I go insane.
It's only half past twelve. But I don't care,
it's five o'clock somewhere.
[Instrumental]
I could pay off my tab, pour myself in a cab,
and be back to work before two.
At a moment like this, I can't help but wonder,
what would Jimmy Buffett do.
[Jimmy:]
Funny you should ask Alan, I'd say...
Pour me something tall and strong.
Make it a hurricane, before I go insane.
It's only half past twelve, but I don't care.
[Together:]
Pour me something tall and strong.
Make it a hurricane, before I go insane.
It's only half past twelve. But I don't care,
it's five o'clock somewhere.
[Alan:]
... but he don't care, I don't care.
Together
It's five o'clock somewhere.

song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twelve O'Clock

Mother, I do want to leave off my lessons now. I have been at my
book all the morning.
You say it is only twelve o'clock. Suppose it isn't any later;
can't you ever think it is afternoon when it is only twelve
o'clock?
I can easily imagine now that the sun has reached the edge of
that rice-field, and the old fisher-woman is gathering herbs for
her supper by the side of the pond.
I can just shut my eyes and think that the shadows are growing
darker under the madar tree, and the water in the pond looks shiny
black.
If twelve o'clock can come in the night, why can't the night
come when it is twelve o'clock?

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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The Afternoon Sun

This room, how well I know it.
Now they're renting it, and the one next to it,
as offices. The whole house has become
an office building for agents, businessmen, companies.
This room, how familiar it is.
The couch was here, near the door,
a Turkish carpet in front of it.
Close by, the shelf with two yellow vases.
On the right -no, opposite- a wardrobe with a mirror.
In the middle the table where he wrote,
and the three big wicker chairs.
Beside the window the bed
where we made love so many times.
They must still be around somewhere, those old things.
Beside the window the bed;
the afternoon sun used to touch half of it.
. . . One afternoon at four o'clock we separated
for a week only . . . And then-
that week became forever.

poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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An Afternoon Poem Is Rare

AN AFTERNOON POEM IS RARE

An Afternoon Poem is rare-
Afternoon is long after the first light-
Afternoon is a time of heaviness and quiet
A time of rest-

Afternoon is after the morning work has been done-
Afternoon is the weight of the day-
Afternoon is the time after the day has lost its freshness-

Still there must be afternoon poems-
There must be a beauty that emerges
In its own way,
Perhaps from where lovers meet
Perhaps from ‘ripeness is all’
Perhaps from the anticipation of evening
Perhaps from winter where it is the warmest time of day.

There must be afternoon poems-
Poems that celebrate all that warmth can bring-
Poems of rest poems of sleep-
Poems of waiting to believe
That in the evening
A new day and a new world
Will make life easier again.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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The clock is clicking

The clock is clicking
It is clicking to show just then
A time span of one second
Has become the past
The clock is clicking

Each click means a step
Towards your progress and growth
Optimistic wisdom says
The clock is clicking

Each click means a nail
Onto your coffin
Philosophical wisdom says
The clock is clicking

Each click means the arrival
Of a child in India
Population expert worries
The clock is clicking

Each click means the committal
Of a crime
Police personnel observes
The clock is clicking

Each click means a travel of 2.5 km
In space of the earth's surface
Astromer estimates
The clock is clicking

Each click means a change
In fortune of an individual
Astrologer announces
The clock is clicking

Each click means the admission
Of a heart patient
Health specialist heaves
The clock is clicking

Each click means the drain
Of my battery
The clock cries within
The clock is clicking

Let the clock be clicking
Let any one have his or her inkling
Let us be lively and kicking
Let nothing stop us becoming a king

The clock is clicking

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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It's Five O'clock Somewhere

The sun is hot and that old clock is movin' slow,
An' so am I.
Work day passes like molasses in wintertime,
But it's July.
I'm gettin' paid by the hour, an' older by the minute.
My boss just pushed me over the limit.
I'd like to call him somethin',
I think I'll just call it a day.
Pour me somethin' tall an' strong,
Make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane.
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care.
It's five o'clock somewhere.
Oh, this lunch break is gonna take all afternoon,
An' half the night.
Tomorrow mornin', I know there'll be hell to pay,
Hey, but that's all right.
I ain't had a day off now in over a year.
Our Jamaican vacation's gonna start right here.
if the 'phones for me,
You can tell 'em I just sailed away.
An' pour me somethin' tall an' strong,
Make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane.
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care.
It's five o'clock somewhere.
I could pay off my tab, pour myself in a cab,
An' be back to work before two.
At a moment like this, I can't help but wonder,
What would Jimmy Buffett do?
JIMMY BUFFETT:
Funny you should ask Alan,
I'd say:
Pour me somethin' tall an' strong,
Make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane.
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care.
ALAN JACKSON & JIMMY BUFFETT:
Pour me somethin' tall an' strong,
Make it a "Hurricane" before I go insane.
It's only half-past twelve but I don't care.
He don't care.
I don't care.
It's five o'clock somewhere.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
What time zone am I on? What country am I in?
ALAN JACKSON:
It doesn't matter, it's five o'clock somewhere.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
It's always on five in Margaritaville, come to think of it.
ALAN JACKSON:
Yeah, I heard that.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
You been there haven't you.
ALAN JACKSON:
Yes, sir.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
I seen your boat there.
ALAN JACKSON:
I've been to Margaritaville a few times.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
All right, well that's good.
ALAN JACKSON:
Stumbled all the way back.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
OK. Just wanna make sure you can keep it between the navigational beacons.
ALAN JACKSON:
Between the bouys, I gotcha.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
All right. Well, it's five o'clock. Let's go somewhere.
ALAN JACKSON:
I'm ready, crank it up.
JIMMY BUFFETT:
Let's get out of here.
ALAN JACKSON:
I'm gone.

song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Folks

The old folks dont talk much
They talk so slowly when they do
They are rich they are poor
Their illusions are gone
They share one heart for to
Their homes all smell of tyme
Of old photographs
And an old fashioned song
Though you may live in town
You live so far away
When youve lived to long
Have they laughed to much
Do their dry voices crack
Talking of things gone by
Have they cried to much
A tear or two still always seems
To cloud the eye
They tremble as they watch the old silver clock
When day is through
Tick tock oh so slow
It says yes it says no
It says I wait for you
The old folks dream no more
Their books have gone to sleep
The pianos out of tune
The little cat is dead
And no more do they sing on a sunday afternoon
The old folks move no more
Their world become to small
Their bodies feel like lead
They might look out a window
Or else sit it a chair
Or else they stay in bed
And if they still go out
Arm and arm, arm and arm
In the mornings chill
Its to have a good cry
To say their last goodbye
To one whose older still
And then they go home
To the old silver clock
When day is through
Tick tock so so slow
It says yes it says no
It says I wait for you
The old folks never die
They just put down their heads
And go to sleep one day
They will hold each others hands
Like children in the dark
But one will get lost anyway
And the other will remain
Just sitting in a room
Which makes no sound
It doesnt matter now
The song has died away
And echos all around
Youll see them as they walk
Through the sun filled parks
Where children run and play
It hurst to much to smile
It hurts so much
But life goes on for still another day
As they try to escape the old silver clock
When day is through
Tick tock oh so slow
It says yes it says no
It says I wait for you
The old old silver clock
Thats hanging on the wall
That waits for us all

song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap.

quote by Barbara Jordan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Any film I see at two o'clock in afternoon with my mother seems to cast a strange spell that means we both come out sobbing.

quote by Jane Birkin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alternative Song For The Severd head In "The King Of The Great Clock Tower"

SADDLE and ride, I heard a man say,
Out of Ben Bulben and Knocknarea,
i{What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower?}
All those tragic characters ride
But turn from Rosses' crawling tide,
The meet's upon the mountain-side.
i{A slow low note and an iron bell.}
What brought them there so far from their home.
Cuchulain that fought night long with the foam,
i{What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower?}
Niamh that rode on it; lad and lass
That sat so still and played at the chess?
What but heroic wantonness?
i{A slow low note and an iron bell.}
Aleel, his Countess; Hanrahan
That seemed but a wild wenching man;
i{What says the Clock in the Great Clock Tower?}
And all alone comes riding there
The King that could make his people stare,
Because he had feathers instead of hair.
i{A slow low note and an iron bell.}

poem by William Butler Yeats
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Disco

every night is disco night
with you im living every moment for you
seeing things in a different way
of my god im thankful that youre leaving
is there something we can do, this afternoon
is there nothing left to say
oh your love, cautions you
you are something new
afternoon
ill make it up to somehow
im laughing and youre dancing like my mother
ill teach you to go off on me
shake, shake from the horror
mirror naked feeling hot
your radio is not store bought but stolen
another night is going out
its saturday and now youve got the fever
is there something we can do, this afternoon
is there nothing left to say
oh your love, cautions you
you are something new
afternoon
is there something we can do, this afternoon
is there nothing left to say
oh your love, warning you
and you are so beautiful
youll just have to do
is there nothing left to say

song performed by by Howie Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waiting For Him

With a look of hope
On the face
Eyes gleaming
Longing to see her desire
Fulfilled
She sat in the window
Looking at the street
Waiting for him to arrive
Arms of the clock
Kept moving
Her desire
Remained starving
Color of the face
Kept changing
Pink became yellow
In no time
Eyes moved
From street to the clock
Now and then
Afternoon went
And evening arrived
No sign of
Her love to be seen
Eyes became wet
Tears started flowing
One more day
Had left her crying
Waiting for him
Had become
Her only pastime

poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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It Will Be Necessary

she will sleep there
till evening

from 2 o'clock in the
afternoon

after lunch, she will not
be waked up

by anybody of the house
she must know

after all these hours
that no one is coming

it will be sad but it will
be necessary

it is inevitable
it is always named departure

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The soldiers' last meal is generally served out about five o'clock in the afternoon, sometimes earlier; and a stretch of fourteen hours intervenes between then and breakfast.

quote by Patrick MacGill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Afternoon

The light is fading in the afternoon
Wont you see me baby in my room
Theres something that I wanna say to you
Tell me baby am I getting through
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
In the afternoon, in the afternoon
The light is fading from across the way
I see you coming baby every day
I see you running, running from across the field
And I wanna know if you can feel the same as me
Cause I wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
In the afternoon, in the afternoon
The wind is howling baby outside the shack
Train whistle blowin from across the track
Get on my wavelength, and you set me free
I just wanna be everything you want me to be
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
In the afternoon, in the afternoon
The moon is sinking way across the trees
I can see my baby but she cant see me
Ive got a longing deep within my soul
I have to take it there and let it roll
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
Wanna make, wanna make, wanna make, wanna make
Love to you
In the afternoon, make love in the afternoon
Make love in the afternoon
Let it roll
You got me reelin and a-rockinand rollin again
Let it roll
You got me reelin and a-rockinand rollin and rollin again
Oh, Im rollin and tumblin, and Im rollin and tumblin
And Im talkin all outta my mind baby
Let it roll
You got me reelin and a-rockin
And Im talkin all outta my mind
Im talkin all outta my mind
Make love in the afternoon
Make love in the afternoon
Make love in the afternoon

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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“Our Clock Of Midnight”(An Acrostic)

Our clock of midnight ticking around
Undiscovered love can hear the sound
Repressed desire lying underground

Certainly this rare love can never be found
Loneliness covers the dusk to adorn
Outcry from the dark quells the forlorn
Crying out for light in the name of the dark
Keeps the distance between fire and spark

Our clock of midnight still ticking around
For we are far away but we can be found

Miles apart yet our minds can be seen
In reality can we make a blue night green?
Don’t want this clock ever to stop ticking
Noiselessness into heart where it’s been sticking
Indissoluble feeling we can feel so deep
Glimmering hope in our souls we reap
Here we lay down in the midst of dream
The clock of our midnight is our time supreme.

poem by Munia Khan
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Swing Shift Blues

What is better than leaving a bar
in the middle of the afternoon
besides staying in it or not
having gone into it in the first place
because you had a decent woman to be with?
The air smells particularly fresh
after the stale beer and piss smells.
You can stare up at the whole sky:
it's blue and white and does not
stare back at you like the bar mirror,
and there's Whats-'is-name coming out
right behind you saying, "I don't
believe it, I don't believe it: there
he is, staring up at the fucking sky
with his mouth open. Don't
you realize, you stupid son of a bitch,
that it is a quarter to four
and we have to clock in in
fifteen minutes to go to work?"
So we go to work and do no work
and can even breathe in the Bull's face
because he's been into the other bar
that we don't go to when he's there.

poem by Alan Dugan
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