Hell’s State
Translate my sentence please in the middle of this hour,
Hours are ruder, for the clock has shuddered at times;
The clock is longer than most, more have striven than before,
Those in joyous occasions shall profit and prosper like milk.
The odd predicament enrages us, savage is the heinous beast
That devours time by the hours, like a grandfather clock of names.
My horrific life carries no charge of electricity but only fire
Of the reasons that smoke, smoke like fiery ash twisting and turning.
May God condemn the infirm beasts so solemnly swaying in time
With the music of death, the odd occasion of defeat that is Hell.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Related quotes
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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Grandfather Clock
The old grandfather clock stood in the hall
It kept time for us all
Through winter, spring, summer, fall
When I was young I would say
The big hand is on five today
and that's how I told time that way
As I progressed in age
Time was read in the correct usage
And time became more of a gauge
Time to go to school and learn
Time to work for what you earn
Time to leave no stone unturned
Time for weddings dresses worn
Time for children to be born
Time for graduation gowns adorned
Time for me, time for you
Time to see things through
Time for living and dieing too
The old grandfather clock still keeps time
Counting the hours that life is prime
So make the most or be left behind
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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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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Time
time
the clock lies
the hour is still around
never passes
only our body has revolted
the world too
in fact the whole universe
time
the clock lies
the hour is still around
never passes
only our physique
and the material
have failed to rise up to the occasion
they are the real clocks
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Flexitime for Friend Denis joe
A blank faced clock which has no hands
must still obey Chronos’ commands.
The minutes pass without display.
Times moves on inexorably
the hours passing speedily
Today replaces yesterday.
Why are men obsessed by the clock
they measure every tick and tock.
What does it matter anyway?
we know that darkness rules the night
and that the day is filled by light.
Some time to sleep and work or play.
Avid clock watchers fail to see
that time can pass variably.
4-May-08
http: //Blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Clock O Clock of Times
Hours of the night in their deep
Sinuous on and always flowing
Fog bound rhythm speeding keep
Their onward footsteps going
Yesterday is now becoming new
In the rushes hours gnawing on
Clearance of the daybreaks thru
Till old shadow’s dance are gone
In the litter of their lost time
Everything moves forward still
Eve goes and morning‘s in prime
Every opportunity to fulfill
Clock o clock of times keeping
Rushing hours thru to make more
All old of dust down sweeping
Opening up the pluviose door
So much in the moldering way
Like the cadences of fog bound
Coming thru but no time to stay
All’s going in the merry-go-round
Feelings lost in pacing’s to break
As this roadway leads to its side
New thoughts in moving uptake
Is there now time for some abide?
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Fire By Night, Smoke By Day
It's fire by night and smoke by day
As we lay in our beds just thinking away
We wake in the morning to do what they say
It's fire by night and it's smoke by day
The sun starts to rise and the birds start to sing
We worry about what to do, what to wear and what to bring
We make a to-do list filled with everything
Just like the summer, the winter, the fall and the spring
Fire by night, smoke by day
There's nothing left to blow it away
Our day carries on as we're stuck to the clock
A slave to the ways of the tic and the toc
We carry a key but there isn't a lock
Trying to discover what is already lost
Fire by night, smoke by day
There's nothing left to blow it away
We wait for the water to wash it away
It's fire by night, smoke by day
Our thoughts start to wander as night settles in
Engaged in a fight we're not ready to win
As we wait for a new tomorrow to begin
The fire starts burning all over again
Fire by night, smoke by day
There's nothing left to blow it away
We wait for the water to wash it away
It's fire by night, smoke by day
poem by Navillus Tam
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Early Works - Day In The Life Of A Working Man
Every morning I’m up at seven
eat the breakfast I’ve been makin’,
it might smell like dried wood,
but it tastes mighty good.
By then the postman comes to call
another bill through the letterbox does fall.
It is no good tearing it in two;
they’ll only send a reminder through.
Everyday at eight I clock in,
that’s when my daily work begins.
Lifting boxes up and down
and shifting things round an round.
Ten o’clock and tea break arrives,
time for a smoke and look alive.
Ten fifteen the whistle goes again
to let us know its time to begin.
Twelve thirty to the café across the road
to sit down and unburden your load,
to eat food that looks so fine,
but tastes like sludge from the river Tyne.
Your hours nearly up,
then its back again to work.
From here on its slogging it out
until home going time at five o’clock
Reaching home, you feel half-dead
so you go upstairs to bed.
Under the covers to sleep
only to find yourself counting sheep.
Tomorrow it starts all over again,
another day in the life of a working man.
Date Written Unknown
poem by David Harris
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Tick Tick Tick....!
Tick Tick Tick Tick,
Clock Ticks,
Lub dub Lub Dub heart beats,
Cycle of inhaling and exhaling
makes breath,
Pulses from unknown center has own lifetime,
keeps time for us, clock that set in
every cell schedules its life and
birth! Life is light trapped in atom,
excited electron has to fall back,
Just like life raises up and falls
back,
rhythm, wavelength and
frequency decide energy of light, local time may not match with
clock in other region,
Light travels covering space
does truly decide time?
You are the medium where light
is slowest, faster it is in different medium
and plane, Before the internal clock stops,
Sending warning alarm,
Alarm thyself, you are here not
only to know,
But also to the wish of the one
beyond light and clock, who can fix clock even in a light
photon,
can fix clock in everything,
Arise and awake before chime of
alarm,
No snooze is there in your clock, Never get yourself lost in
yawning,
No one can stay here.
when time is up!
Namaste and thank you all before
my clock ticks and buzz to say
time is up!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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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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The Time Thief
I feel the hours move too fast
and know that I can't make them last.
I do not cry for loss of them,
but the giver of time I do condemn
and cannot forgive how he takes away
every hour on every day.
I close my eyes to all of this
with the hope that he might miss
a few of the hours that belong to me.
But when I open my eyes I see
that those few hours are also gone
and I must face one more dawn.
And again my condemnation's here.
I cannot forgive this thief I fear.
He's stolen the sight of sunny skies.
He's stolen them right before my eyes.
He's fled with all the music I love.
He'll leave me nothing that I'm made of.
Forgive him? No, never I say.
Condemn him, yes and so I pray.
'Let him feel the loss like me.
Let him suffer the misery
of not enough hours to feel complete
and not enough time for his heart to beat.
Sentence him as he sentenced me.
Take away his hours so I can be
free.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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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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Me-Time Continuum
I watch the clock ticking out its time.
I hear the gears tocking 'till the chime…
I hold my stare acutely
And focus ears astutely.
The whole gestalt of this assault by me on clock
Collapses in to hence become
A new me-time continuum,
This clock and I a vacuum;
Dial and me, we've come to be
A synergistic, fatalistic victim,
Hmm…
When it ticks, I then tock:
I am me as well as clock.
When it tocks, I then tick.
We burn together down the wick
In candle wax, both cold and warm,
Together now in molten form.
We jump the side but soon to stall,
Only to solidify
Until the active plateau
Chases…
Down…
Sinking…
To melt again the bit that ran (us) –
All in a time storm
With timeless plan.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Ti me time time time time time time time time
Time time time time time
Time time time
Time time
Time time time
Time time time time time
Time time time time time time time time time
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Naughty Claude
When Little Claude was naughty wunst
At dinner-time, an' said
He won't say '_Thank you_' to his Ma,
She maked him go to bed
An' stay two hours an' not git up,--
So when the clock struck Two,
Nen Claude says,--'Thank you, Mr. Clock,
I'm much obleeged to you!'
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Looking at the clock
If you watch a clock time goes slowly,
If you don’t watch a clock time goes fast.
There is an expression,
Time flies when you’re having fun,
-ignore it, it is fake! -
Time goes fast if you don’t look at the clock or
If you watch television or a DVD,
Time goes slow if,
You keep asking what time it is or
If you keep looking at the clock.
poem by Kayleigh Butler
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The hours of folly are measured by the clock; but of wisdom, no clock can measure.
quote by William Blake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time Ticks
Reach out and rewind your clock before
it melts away like the flow
of crimson from a dying animal
that slowly loses its color,
for your clock ticks like a metronome
keeping time until the very last
beat of the song. Mend
your clock until your last
note is sung and your breath
is taken away from you. Before
the shadow that advances like water
filling in every crack gets to you,
rewind your clock to stay alive
and rid yourself of the tang
of fresh blood and the menacingly silent
ticking of your clock. Simply wrap
your trembling hand around the cool,
slippery surface of your timekeeper,
and rid your world of the stench
of Death. Or will you simply awaken
to find your death a mere dream?
Will you find that the reality
of Life is only a frank lie?
poem by Zoe Guillory
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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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Justaminute
9: 48
I watch the
Clock. Green
Numbers flashing
Past; my ageing
Eyes barely; if
Even, remaining
Alongside as the
Minutes roll on to
Hours roll on to
Months, years, decades,
Centuries. Already my
Life is eroded
By time's
Repeating, unrelenting
Fusillade.
I watch the
Clock.
9: 49
poem by Mark Challenger
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