Sunday Clock
The old Sunday clock
Was a ticking it's way
With no effort at all
Through a long lazy day.
It stood on the ledge
With so little to say,
But it didn't surprise me:
They're all made that way.
(Written Feb 1994)
poem by John Carter Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Tickin Away
The clock above the bar
Is telling me its 12:15
And its not such a gentle reminder
That Im where I shouldnt be
I just keep waiting for something to happen
Waiting for somebody to come walking in
Somebody as perfect as you were
So I can try it again
(but) chances are so hard to come by
And the second one is impossible to find
The clock keep running
And the odds keep getting higher
That its all just a fantasy of mine
But I shouldnt be thinking about it
I shouldnt be worried about it
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its ticking away
I suppose I should cut all my losses
Go home with a six-pack of beer
There aint nobody in the world like you baby
If there was, she wouldnt be coming in here
But I shouldnt be thinking about it
I shouldnt be worried about it
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
Yeah, its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
I suppose I should cut all my losses
Go home with a six-pack of beer
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Her Insomnia
this is a private affair
between her and her wall clock
there is this consistent rhythm
of the tick tock tick tock
her pupils roll and sometimes
still
staring at the walls of the house
restless she avails of all the possible
combination of postures
but to no avail
the clock keeps on ticking and ticking and ticking
she feels like a tick
and she cannot talk
this is her private affair with her wall clock
above her head
her mouth is closed shaped like
a lamppost
without a light.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lazy Day
Lazy day, sunday afternoon,
Like to get your feet up, watch t.v.
Sunday roast is something good to eat,
Must be beef today cause lamb was last week.
So full up, bursting at the seams,
Soon youll start to nod off, happy dreams.
Wake up, for tea and buttered scones
Such a lot of work for you sunday moms.
Its such a crying shame
Week after week the same.
Todays heaven-sent and youre feeling content,
You worked all week long.
Still, its quite sad tomorrows so bad
And I dont feel so strong.
Lazy day, sunday afternoon,
Like to get your feet up, watch t.v.
Sunday roast is something good to eat,
Now its almost over till week.
Thats how your life goes by
Until the day you die.
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lean On Me (Tonight)
Lazy day, Sunday afternoon,
Like to get your feet up, watch TV.
Sunday roast is something good to eat,
Must be lamb today 'cause beef was last week.
So full up, bursting at the seams,
Soon you'll start to nod off, happy dreams.
Wake up, for tea and buttered scones
Such a lot of work for you Sunday moms.
It's such a crying shame
Week after week the same.
Today's heaven-sent and you're feeling content,
You worked all week long.
Still, it's quite sad tomorrow's so bad
And I don't feel too strong.
Lazy day, Sunday afternoon,
LIke to get your feet up, watch TV.
Sunday roast is something good to eat,
Now it's almost over till next week.
That's how your life goes by
Until the day you die.
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On The Ledge Under The Sky
You sit up high,
On a ledge under the sky,
Where wings don’t fly,
And humans don’t cry,
Up high on this ledge under the sky,
But why or why,
Do you want to fly?
When you can sit up on the sky,
And hear a voice that doesn’t die,
Or see a drifting tie,
On this ledge in the sky,
And smell a pie,
From miles and miles away a sty,
Under the sky,
Where no one can lie,
‘Cause we see everything from up high,
On this ledge under the sky,
Where you can wonder from your mind’s eye,
And your leg and thigh,
Dangle down from this ledge upon the sky,
Where one never does sigh,
Or look upon the rye,
On this ledge below the sky,
You can be a spy,
You can pry and pry,
And never will people see the tears you cry,
Up upon this ledge in the sky,
Never will you fly,
Or dream why or why,
For you’re already on the ledge under the sky.
“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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Lazy Boy
He loves to lie in, in the morning i'm told,
Well it's true that he ain't no spring chicken;
Just to open his eyes is an effort of will,
Seems his back, to the bed, won't stop stickin'.
(Written Jan 1994)
poem by John Carter Brown
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Are room
As we stood in are room today
And I put my hands on your waist
I could hear the clock above the door
Ticking loudly, Almost in haste
And as i moved in closer
And your eyes locked in mine
I just long for your kisses',
To hold forever
In this moment of time.
xxx
poem by George Albot
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Souls
It all started here, she was a girl form the midwest
He was a stranger in a strange land
Same old story
He came for the glory
She came looking for a young mans hand
But they found bright lights
And endless nights
And men just used her innocent ways
He found it all so pretty, hypnotized by the city
They lost sight of the reason
They lost count of the days
And they were two souls searching for each other
One spirit looking for the other
Caught between a hard hard place and a rock
Two souls searching for heaven
Rolling the dice looking for a seven
To the tick, tick, ticking of time
Gotta beat the clock
Too many nights on the ledge
He acquired a knife-edge
Still the city didnt acquiesce to his demands
Some nights she cried for pity in the heart of the city
The city smacked her hands
He met her one endless night
Her eyes had a light
There was something familiar about the smell of her skin
He held her tighter and tighter
As he danced inside her
She knew from the moment that she let him in
Theyd been two souls searching for each other
One spirit looking for the other
Caught between a hard hard place and a rock
Two souls searching for heaven
Rolling the dice looking for a seven
To the tick, tick, ticking of time
Gotta beat the clock
Beat the clock
Beat the clock
Beat the clock
Two souls searching for each other
One spirit looking for the other
Caught between a hard hard place and a rock
Two souls searching for heaven
Rolling the dice looking for a seven
To the tick, tick, ticking of time
Gotta beat the clock
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grandpa's Clock
in that ticking of the clock
three generations of time
had ticked past...
with some tickings fixed firm
each ticking concealed
tireless roar of the sea
and a conundrum of emotions
time has its way of
teasing and tiring us
one fine evening during
a casual chitchat as sister
got off from the chair
she hit back at time and
the grandfather's clock-
though i had never known him
but through the clock fixed to the wall-
that seemed to chime
eternally into the wee hours
each time waking me up cruelly
from an innocent sleep
lay there in pieces...
the pendulum, still oscillates
the conundrum, still unsolved
the flux of the sea, still echoes
though we could never manage
to get another clock
and external surfaces
still gleam and glitter...
20dec2009
08.21hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Beautiful Surprise
It's like yesterday
I didn't even know your name
Now today
You're always on my mind
I never could have predicted that I feel this way
You're beautiful surprise
Intoxicated every time I hear your voice
You've got me on a natural high
It's almost like I didn't even have a choice
You're beautiful surprise
Whatever it is you came to teach me
I am here to learn it cause
I believe that we're written in the stars
I don't know the future hopes
But I'm living in the moment
And I'm thankful for the man that you are
song performed by by India.Arie from Voyage To India
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With Eyes Remembered
It's not a sin for those,
Who distance themselves...
As far as they can,
From the ticking of a clock.
Is it?
What about those who make attempts,
To get that ticking to be stopped?
With confirmations sought,
That an aging process...
Has completely forgotten them!
And as long as they moisturize,
And Sun block their skins...
They will keep Mother Nature guessing,
For years without end.
However...
With suggestions made,
To avoid further Botox treatments...
To allow a natural appearance,
A chance to return to their faces again!
Maybe with eyes remembered,
Attached to a recognized grin.
This alone will silence the complaining,
That aging ungracefully on some has shown.
'Yes...
Of course I remember you!
You and my grandmother were good friends.'
~No!
Larry?
You and I went to high school together.~
'OH!
Oh...
OH?
Uh...
Oh!
It's a beautiful day,
Isn't it? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Meet On The Ledge - Originally By Fairport Convention
We used to say
That come the day
When wed all be making songs
Or finding better words
These ideas never lasted long
The way is up
Along the road
The air is growing thin
Too many friends who tried
Were blown off this mountain with the wind
Meet on the ledge
Were gonna meet on the ledge
When your time is up youre gonna meet all your friends
Meet on the ledge
Were gonna meet on the ledge
If you really mean it, it all comes round again
So here I sit
Im all alone
But thats the only way to be
Youll have your chance again
Then you can do the work for me
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Free
I had it tough when I was just a little kid
It didn't matter what I thought
It didn't matter what I did
I feel ?? what I like right from the start
It didn't number on my head
It could never touch my heart
Cause I had just another imagination
Just not to keep the faith
Somehow I would think of what to do
When I get lost in the momentary weakness of the motion
Of the angels came around to help me through
Life puts that's changes
Windblow pass pages
All I see is I don't need this
High strung tyro walk
Ticking time of clock
Scratch my name and cut these chains
I'm free
Kicking out that prison I am free
Singing those words of wisdom let it be
Nobody gonna put the booze inside of me
Yeah
song performed by by Faith Hill from Cry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lazy People
Lazy is as lazy does,
Which is do nothing really,
Coz Lazy is as always does,
Make us do nothing freely.
Lazy people are no crazy people.
Lazy people are truly smart people.
Fast tricks, short fix type of people.
So Lazy has it's good and bad,
Are you lazy? Ask your Dad.
We have our lazy days,
We have our lazy ways.
Do you qualify the breed?
Bring your eyes to feed,
On lazy poems, read.
On This Sunday Morning
from a clear morning sky
a crow swooped down
a lazy packet of bisuits
on the parapet wall
a used tea-cup
all showed that
it's a sunday morning...
how amusing to see
the way he unwrapped
and made a clean sweep
no sundays for the ever alert crow
my sunday is his day of feast
11oct2009
09.23hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dayton, Ohio - 1903
Sing a song of long ago
When things were green and movin slow
And peopled stop to say hello
Or theyd say hi to you
Would you like to come over for tea
With the missus and me?
Its a real nice way
To spend the day
In dayton, ohio
On a lazy sunday afternoon in 1903
Sing a song of long ago
When things could grow
And days flowed quietly
The air was clean and you could see
And folks were nice to you
Would you like to come over for tea
With the missus and me?
Its a real nice way
To spend the day
In dayton, ohio
On a lazy sunday afternoon in 1903
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time Clock
we all have a time clock ticking every moment
of every day.
until the last gasp of breath
which slowly slips away.
so while here on this earth
use every second that goes by.
for we pass through this world but once
no matter how we try.
we will be remembered by friends and family
for the goodness when we care.
for that is something that they'll always share.
when you share the joys and sorrows
the heartaches and the pain
the warmth and tenderness that you feel
for them is still the same.
open up your heart for all the world to see
that what you have locked up inside
has finally been set free.
enjoy life to the fullest
for there is no turning back
the time clock keeps on ticking
and does'nt ease up the slack.
poem by Louis Rams
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Gettin' Old
It doesn't seem right
When you think of it cold,
All this creaking of bones
That they call growing old.
When you're getting short-sighted
And find you need spec's,
And your memory's so bad
You don't know what comes next.
All this sagging of flesh
And this hair going grey,
All this walking with sticks,
I can hear myself say
'If the clock could be turned
I would turn it today' ...
But I know that it can't
So it's back to the fray!
(Written April 1994)
poem by John Carter Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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