The Sounds Of My Day
it is four o' clock in the morning
this computers hums the loudest
the dogs howl on the road seeing strangers pass that early
i can hear the winds of dawnbreak
the engine of the bus
on the highway going to faraway zamboanga
the first trip i suppose
the clock is ticking
the door is clicking
some footsteps
on the road going away from me
they are all
sounds of departure
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
117
the sounds of my day
it is four o' clock in the morning
this computers hums the loudest
the dogs howl on the road seeing strangers pass that early
i can hear the winds of dawn break
the engine of the bus
on the highway going to faraway Zambezi
the first trip i suppose
the clock is ticking
the door is clicking
some footsteps
on the road going away from me
they are all
sounds of departure
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Sounds
i heard the sound of the clock ticking
some things come
i am remembering these some things
burnt, and melting in my forehead,
i like the sound of the ticking of grandfather's
clock at night, i hear footsteps
and drippings of water
from the gutter to the floor
the window is closed and the wind makes
the sound of someone caught between
door jambs, creaking sounds creeping
on the wall, something is terrible, really terrible
and i turn my body to the left side,
there is this storm, and the strong rain comes
with the grunting wind, and trees are falling
unto each other, i hear leaves and twigs,
and the roof wanting to leave the house,
something is terribly happening on this night
of the suicidal darkness, the shimmer of the river
looks like a stainless knife
who's there? i ask the door. The mirror on the other
side answers, how dare you?
it is nobody. it is just myself, my mouth answers.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ticking Clock....
Overwhelmed.....just need a place to sit....
the thoughts in my mind,
well....they just won't quit!
Funny how a clock can grab my attention,
you know.....
the kind with the seconds...
counting down.
As I loose my mind in thoughts of the day,
that click...the seconds....
I have to weigh...
I'm here...
I'm now...
then seconds are clicking....
So I have a thought.
Why am I wasting now?
Just how do I love this second?
I don't want to waste precious time....
the clock makes me hear my stupid whine....
Damn you ticking clock! ! !
Don't Pass Me By
I listen for your footsteps
Coming up the drive
Listen for your footsteps
But they don't arrive
Waiting for your knock dear
On my old front door
I don't hear it
Does it mean you don't love me any more.
I hear the clock a'ticking
On the mantel shelf
See the hands a'moving
But i'm by myself
I wonder where you are tonight
And why i'm by myself
I don't see you
Does it mean you don't love me any more.
Don't pass me by don't make me cry don't make me blue
'cause you know darling i love only you
You'll never know it hurt me so
How i hate to see you go
Don't pass me by don't make me cry
I'm sorry that i doubted you
I was so unfair
You were in a car crash
And you lost your hair
You said you would be late
About an hour or two
I said that's alright i'm waiting here
Just waiting to hear from you.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Philosophers Stone
Out on the highways and the by-ways all alone
Im still searching for, searching for my home
Up in the morning, up in the morning out on the road
And my head is aching and my hands are cold
And Im looking for the silver lining, silver lining in the clouds
And Im searching for and
Im searching for the philosophers stone
And its a hard road, its a hard road daddy-o
When my job is turning lead into gold
He was born in the back street, born in the back street jelly roll
Im on the road again and Im searching for
The philosophers stone
Can you hear that engine
Woe can you hear that engine drone
Well Im on the road again and Im searching for
Searching for the philosophers stone
Up in the morning, up in the morning
When the streets are white with snow
Its a hard road, its a hard road daddy-o
Up in the morning, up in the morning
Out on the job
Well youve got me searching for
Searching for, the philosophers stone
Even my best friends, even my best friends they dont know
That my job is turning lead into gold
When you hear that engine, when you hear that engine drone
Im on the road again and Im searching for the philosophers stone
Its a hard road even my best friends they dont know
And Im searching for, searching for the philosophers stone
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
“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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Time's Ticking Away
The pendulum swings,
In such a perpetual way,
It keeps on moving,
In a continuous sway.
The momentum decides,
Time's passing on,
A tick on the clock,
And the moment is gone.
The pendulum swings,
To left and to right,
Time's ticking along,
In mad rhythmic flight.
And as it moves onwards,
Time's ticking away,
There's no way of stopping,
The road to decay.
The pendulum swings,
Another second goes by,
The clock's keeping time,
But time wants to fly.
By night and by day,
Time never stands still,
The pendulum swings,
At 'Time's' endless will.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Early Morning Snore
It starts of just before four am
with a put, put, put of an old Volkswagen,
and then descended into
a motorcycle engine on idle
with a tick-a-tick-a-tick
before revving up a notch
into an motorcycles engines roar.
Hence, my other half was at it again
with her early morning snore.
Like everyone, she denies that she ever snores.
Each morning like a regular alarm clock,
she starts her snoring engine
and I quickly vacate the bed,
it is my only escape to peace,
away from a motorcycle engine
roaring inches from my head.
One day I got out my portable Dictaphone
and started recording her,
when I played it back
she said I had recorded out in the street somewhere.
Now I am an early riser,
and who wouldn’t be
with a motorcycle engine roaring
just inches away from your ear.
12 December 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When I stopped at home one day
Early in the morning
I gave the children food
and a goodbye kiss
to my still sleeping wife.
At times I dropped them
at school
and turned with the road
to the highway
to get to work
and when I stopped at home one day
there were no children
that came running out,
no wife knocking
at the outside door
and all the dogs were suddenly silent
and life took
its own course
and every thing
had passed just too quickly.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Busy...
you body clock
does not tell time,
busy body, slimy fingers,
trembling hands,
wrecking nerves
fast tracking heart,
exploding ideas
killing boredom
it's been this way
since
nothing is written
the spirit is away
the body is left here
comatose
dreams like butterflies
hovering on some red flowers
heartless sounds of
discontent
fingers dissociated from hands
the eyes are closing
like closed computers
at 8 o'clock in the morning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fleeting moment
The moment is fleeting
The final hour is about to cone
What else do one needs to do
For all to be over and done?
We started early morning
Just before sun
Or shall we just allow nature
To take it's course, only
later to reconsider, and
Wished we had won?
The clock is ticking
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I literally have meetings at eight o'clock in the morning, and I finish at nine o'clock at night. It sounds pathetic, but I don't even have time to go shopping.
quote by Stella McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!