And The Clock? /A Sat?
endlessly wide in my eyes
there beats the room and strikes the clock
out of my hands into the distances
cracked is the room-and the clock?
bezmjerno velika u mojim očima
otkucava soba i sat
iz mojih ruku u daljine puca soba-a sat?
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Related quotes
The Room/Soba
The room the dropp of space
Inhabited by the dwelling mistrust
A grain four dimensioned pushed
Into time as if pushed into an hour
That tick tock possessed by
The sound of its own rhythm
Crosses the limits into an endless over itself
It wants eternity immortality
The root of each a-prefix
Obliteration of oppositions
Endlessly sharpened into the hints
Of each existence where there exists
Endlessly crossed
The room cannot be corners overstepping
It's got its depth the magic power of the center
Matrix of a metropolis cube
Its own soul crying for a mother
The room the mythrix of the outcast of delivery
Evenly creates the sharp lines of writtenness
Within its own creation
Without a single dropp of fear
Of closed space
Soba
Soba kap prostora u koji ulazi nepovjerenje stanovanja
Četvrtom dimenzijom survan grumen u vrijeme
Ko u sat što tik tak ophrvan opsjednut
Zvukom sopstvenog ritma opkoračuje granice
Teži u beskraj preko samog sebe
Hoće vječnost besmrtnost hoće korijen svakog a-prefiksa
Ukidanje suprotnosti neizmjerno izoštrenih
U obrise svakog postojanja
Kojim se postoji raspeto do iznemoglosti
Soba ne može biti premošćivanje uglova
Ona ima dubinu magičnu moć centra
Matrix kocke metropolu sopstvene duše
Što za majkom jauče
Soba je 'mitriks' na kojoj odrod radjanja
Ujednačeno tvori oštre linije iscrtanosti
U sopstvenom tvorenju bez kapi straha
Od zatvorenog prostora
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Nurse's Watch
From 'The Boy's Wonderhorn'
The moon it shines,
My darling whines;
The clock strikes twelve:--God cheer
The sick both far and near.
God knoweth all;
Mousy nibbles in the wall;
The clock strikes one:--like day,
Dreams o'er thy pillow play.
The matin-bell
Wakes the nun in convent cell;
The clock strikes two:--they go
To choir in a row.
The wind it blows,
The cock he crows;
The clock strikes three:--the wagoner
In his straw bed begins to stir.
The steed he paws the floor,
Creaks the stable door;
The clock strikes four:--'tis plain
The coachman sifts his grain.
The swallow's laugh the still air shakes,
The sun awakes;
The clock strikes five:--the traveler must be gone,
He puts his stockings on.
The hen is clacking,
The ducks are quacking;
The clock strikes six:--awake, arise,
Thou lazy hag; come, ope thy eyes.
Quick to the baker's run;
The rolls are done;
The clock strikes seven:--
'Tis time the milk were in the oven.
Put in some butter, do,
And some fine sugar, too;
The clock strikes eight:--
Now bring my baby's porridge straight.
poem by Clemens Maria Brentano
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The Lonely Room
Tiptoe around the room.
What is it that is found?
Silence, except for the clock that's ticking
nothing else is around.
An empty room with nothing in it,
only the clock that ticks the minute
in this lonely room.
Why was the clock left behind
with not a soul to tell the time?
It was on the mantelpiece
with nobody to hear it chime.
Was it left as a reminder?
I think it would have been kinder
to remove it from the room.
Left alone, it had no purpose.
Who could hear it now?
Ghosts from the past that once lived here
that have taken a vow
to listen to the clock's every minute
in the room with nothing in it
but the ghosts and the time.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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In My Room
I stand alone and watch the clock
I only wait for it to stop
And in the room locked up inside me
The cutout magazines remind me
I sit and wait alone in my room
And in my room against the wall
There is picture very small
A photograph I took some years ago
It shows a picture of the room I know
I sit and wait alone in my room
Chorus
The walls are white and in the night
The room is lit by electric light
I stand and watch the clock
I only wait for it to stop
The doors are shut and all the windows lock
The only sound is from the clock
I sit and wait alone in my room
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Yaz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In My Room
I stand alone and watch the clock
I only wait for it to stop
And in the room locked up inside me
The cutout magazines remind me
I sit and wait alone in my room
And in my room against the wall
There is picture very small
A photograph I took some years ago
It shows a picture of the room I know
I sit and wait alone in my room
Chorus
The walls are white and in the night
The room is lit by electric light
I stand and watch the clock
I only wait for it to stop
The doors are shut and all the windows lock
The only sound is from the clock
I sit and wait alone in my room
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Yaz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Room of Clocks
On the mantelpiece is placed a clock,
Forcing a smell too plain, with an aftershock.
The clock demands a light so bright,
Time flows designing a living of delight.
This room has ornaments too beautiful,
A clock grows largely from the Most Merciful.
The time of change has arrived from Him,
The death of a room is lingering, like a pseudonym.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Eye Of Fatima
(its recording...)
the clock says half past one.
i have no sunglasses as i step into the sun.
lord knows i did something.
oh what could it be?
woke up in the morning and all my friends hate me....
she's got the eye of fatima
on the wall of a hotel room.
three bottles of tequilla, 3 cats and a broom.
he's got a 15 year old angel and she's all dressed in black.
she's got 15 bindles of cocaine tied up in a sac.
this here's a government experiment, and were driving like hell.
to get some cowboys on acid.
and to stay in motels.
were gonna eat up some wide open space like it were the top of the nile.
the hands on the clock are gunna be here, awhile.
an eye of, the eye of fatima.
in the wall of ahotel room,
and cowboys on acid are like egyptian carttons.
noone ever conquored wyoming from the left, or from the right.
just stay in the hotel room..
stay up all night.
song performed by by Sublime
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Happened / Eye Of Fatima
It's recording?
...Clock says half past one
I have no sunglasses
As I step into the sun
I know I did something
Lord what could it be
Woke up in the morning
And all my friends hate me
She got the Eye of Fatima
In the wall of his room
Three bottles of Tequila
Three cats and a broom
He got a 15-year-old angel
And she's all dressed in black
He got 15 bindles of cocaine
Tied up in a sack
This here's a government experiment
And we're drivin' like hell
We'll get some cowboys on acid
And stay in motels
We gonna eat up some wide open spaces
Like it was the top of the Nile
The hands on the clock are gonna be here
A while
An eye of Eye of Fatima
In the wall of the hotel room
And cowboys on acid
Are like Egyptian cartoons
No one ever conquered Wyoming
From the left or from the right
Just stay in the hotel room
Stay up all night
song performed by by Sublime
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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Empty Room
The clock disserts on punctuation, syntax.
The clock's voice, thin and dry, asserts, repeats.
The clock insists: a lecturer demonstrating,
Loudly, with finger raised, when the class has gone.
But time flows through the room, light flows through the room
Like someone picking flowers, like someone whistling
Without a tune, like talk in front of a fire,
Like a woman knitting or a child snipping at paper.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
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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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Seven o'clock
When the clock strikes 7
i say to myself that time sure does flly
so fast that i don't even realize wahts going in my mind
i say why does time fly when the clock strikes 7
it dosent make sense because when i look up from my homework
i say it's 8 o'clock and my mom will be home soon
like my aunt use to say time fly so fast
that when i fall asleep its now morning and im starting a new day
wow time really does fly!
copyright 2009
poem by Nalaysia Cannonier
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Still Life with Tulips
Because you did, I too arrange flowers,
Watching the pistils just like insolent tongues
And the hard, red flesh of the petals
Widening beneath my eyes. They move like the hands
Of clocks, seeming not to move except
When I turn my gaze; then savagely
In the white room, they billow and spread
Until their redness engulfs me utterly.
Mother, you are far away and claim
In mournful letters that I do not need you;
Yet here in this sunny room, your tulips
Devour me, sucking hungrily
My watery nourishment, filling my house
Like a presence, like an enemy.
Geared to your intervals as the small hand
Of a clock repeats the larger, I,
Your too-faithful daughter, still drag behind you,
Turning in the same slow circles.
Across the years and distances, my hands
Among these fierce, red blossoms repeat
Your gestures. I hope my daughter never writes:
'Because you did, I too arrange flowers.'
poem by Erica Jong
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Safe In A Room
Theres no mistakes to be made anymore for you and her,
I sense you'r cold
Know that I'll always be there for you
And I no that I'll get this in your head
We'll Fight, We'll lie down on this field
Time will liberate us again (sunshine!)
Yer, now we'll talk in the grass, and I know that I'm..
Safe In Your room, theres no time
Yer the clock stopped years ago
Dear friend of mine, makes me laugh,
Yer the clock stopped years ago
Know That I'll always be there for you, I've known you so long,
I love you like a brother, I have to, So did i
I no that I'm
Safe In Your room, theres no time
Yer the clock stopped years ago
Dear friend of mine, makes me laugh,
But he almost made me cry
Don't ever do this, you can't never end it,
and I cannot watch you die
you are the best, of the rest,
And you're gonna go so far!!!
Theres no mistakes to be made anymore for you and her, her, her!!!
Know that I'll always be there for you!!!!
And I no that I'll get this in your head
Safe In Your room, theres no time
Yer the clock stopped years ago
Dear friend of mine, makes me laugh,
But he almost made me cry
Don't ever do that again, never ended, she's not worth it,
No I cannot watch you die
You are the rest, of the best,
And I love you always.
Safe in Your Room
Safe in Your Room
Safe in Your Room
song performed by by Inme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Heavenly Thought
I had a thought, that if I got to Heaven
And knocked on the 'pearly gates' at seven,
St Peter would say ' Hold it there'
We haven't got a place to spare,
Not at least, until the clock strikes ten
Then we would consider you again.
Now, if you would like to take a seat
Outside somewhere, and rest your feet,
We'd definitely be able to take you through
When the clock strikes half past two.
But if by chance a 'harp' you play,
There'd be a place for you, right away!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Reality 3
you sleep in bed till 10
o'clock in the morning
the room is closed
the only hum you hear
is the electricity
of the aircon,
light from the keyhole
strikes at your leg
it hurts
your eyes half open
you want to set it aside
you move a leg
and the light is still there
sticking to the wall
you close your eyes again
there is nothing to do
yesterday you get fired
and there is no
rumor about another job
this is it
let somebody worry about you
there is nothing
you can do about them
tonight mouths will scream
at you
the light in the keyhole
is gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You And The Keyhole
you sleep in bed till 10
o'clock in the morning
the room is closed
the only hum you hear
is the electricity
of the aircon,
light from the keyhole
strikes at your leg
it hurts
your eyes half open
you want to set it aside
you move a leg
and the light is still there
sticking to the wall
you close your eyes again
there is nothing to do
yesterday you get fired
and there is no
rumor about another job
this is it
let somebody worry about you
there is nothing
you can do about them
tonight mouths will scream
at you
the light in the keyhole
is gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Midnight Passion
The clock strikes midnight,
And I hear you creep into my room,
For you are here,
To spark a fire in me,
That lights up the stars in the sky,
Into colourful fireworks,
That makes the temperature of the room hot,
So hot with the passion that we share,
For in each other's arms,
We are there,
In a blissful paradise,
That is lovemaking,
For this passion and I,
You are taking,
To boiling point,
Where this love burns deep inside my heart,
For our love is like the greatest art,
That could ever be created,
For I am burning up inside,
Where this raw passion,
Has nothing to hide.
poem by Paula Glynn
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I usually hang around the room listening to a bit of last night's show. If there's one available, I go to the steam room every day for my voice. I spend half an hour there and then I eat, because I can't eat later than four o'clock. Then I go for a soundcheck. That's my day.
quote by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Me Against the Clock
Running out of space,
Running out of time,
I must escape,
Before I lose my Frame of mind,
The clock it keeps going,
But where am I,
Still stuck on one,
When I should say goodbye,
The clock: Tick, Tick, Tick,
Why do I stay,
When He's such a D**k,
Yet, I Feel Happy,
I must Break Free,
I must Let go,
Cuz this aint me,
I should have known,
The clock strikes 12,
And the Fairy Tale Ends,
I'm still myself,
But Now Forver Broken.
poem by Dezere DeLaRoca
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