Ordinary Time
Counting
numbering days and nights
calculating the length
and breadth of
our alloted
breaths
we live
by the numbers.
It starts in a split second
of passion
in the darkness
plunging headlong
to a date certain
when savage lights assault
our tender eyes
and we see
how it will be
in this clock-
work world.
Time orders All.
Class bells
church bells
the grandfather clock
in the hallway
heavily chimes
as our lives sway
in the diurnal dance,
we wake and sleep
laugh and weep
and it is all very ordinary
until it is not;
then the chain breaks
and heavy weights
crush our vision's
persistence
and at last we subside
into inordinate
existence.
poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Ring Them Bells
Ring them bells yea heathen from the city that dreams
Ring them bells from the sanctuaries cross the valleys and streams
For they're deep and they're wide
And the world's on it's side
And time is running backwards and so is the bride
Ring them bells
Ring them bells
Ring them bells
Ring them bells!
Ring them bells Saint Peter where the four winds blow
Ring them bells with an iron hand so the people will know
That the rush hour is now on the wheel and the plow and the sun is going down upon the sacred cow
Ring them bells
Ring them bells
Ring them bells
Ring them bells
Ring them bells Saint Martha for the poor man's son
Ring them bells so the world will know that God is one
For the shepherd is asleep where the willows weep
And the mountains are filled with little lost sheep
Ring them bells for the blind and the deaf
Ring them bells for all of us who are left
Ring them bells for the chosen few who would judge the many when the game is through
Ring them bells for the time that flies
song performed by by Heart from Desire Walks On
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clock and Bells
When I was young, the clock was barely alive.
It seemed that the good times would never arrive.
As I grew older the needles had something to prove.
Their pace increased; they livened their move.
But still they seemed to just plow along,
Though church bells did render a louder gong.
Who knows if a new life is foretold by these chimes?
I just hope they herald the advent of new times.
In concert clock and bell have something to say…
Their message, “Leave the world a bit better each day.”
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Time Grows Shorter
When I was young, the clock was barely alive
It seemed that the good times would never arrive.
As I grew older the needles had something to prove.
Their pace increased as they livened their move.
But still they seemed only to plow along,
Though church bells did render a much louder gong.
If a new life is foretold by such chimes,
I just hope they herald the advent of good times.
In concert clock and bell voice vulnerable dismays;
Their message, “Time grows shorter to find happy days.”
poem by Gregory Huyette
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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
Little Clock
Why in pensive ticking, silent thoughts
You wile your time away
When all around huge swelling bells
Toll the days away!
Every hour that announced may go
Your silent hands take hold
And though the ages chimed in ears
Yours they never behold.
If all the clocks the world had known
Had struck one strong big note,
They would never still your plodding tone
Nor the working hearth you alert.
Do you wonder, wonder, little clock
What makes the grandfather tick!
Or his aching belly in the depth of sorrow
Cries to the world it's sick!
Thirty million years and Pleistocene dark,
They are one split second short!
And whimpering suns that rise and flop
Have scarce stolen your tick or thought!
So, my little clock, my faithful clock
When I hear the tall town bell,
I'll shrug my shoulders, one tiny moment
And know that all is well.
Dedicated to Gertrud Widmayer, my landlady at Heidelberg
(©: T. Wignesan,1957 (from the collection: Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961)
poem by T. Wignesan
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The Bells - A Collaboration
The bells! — ah, the bells!
The little silver bells!
How fairy-like a melody there floats
From their throats. —
From their merry little throats —
From the silver, tinkling throats
Of the bells, bells, bells —
Of the bells!
The bells! — ah, the bells!
The heavy iron bells!
How horrible a monody there floats
From their throats —
From their deep-toned throats —
From their melancholy throats!
How I shudder at the notes
Of the bells, bells, bells —
Of the bells!
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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42 - The Bright Lights of Las Vegas
The bright lights of Las Vegas
Casinos open around the clock
Wedding bells, Grand hotels
A place where the fornicators flock
Like the showgirls on the strip
The rainbow waters dance
European countries recreated
England, Venice and France
At the bar the drinks roll in
As the alcoholics sit
While gamblers like to shake
The hand of the one arm bandit
The city of sin and adulterers
The sounds of the old school tunes
Neon lights, Gangland fights
The mirage and the windblown dunes
The bright lights of Las Vegas
Casinos open around the clock
Wedding bells, Grand hotels
A place where the fornicators flock
poem by Nicola Burkett
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When The Clock Sojourns
When the Clock Sojourns
The grandfather's clock
Defunct, senile, and silenced
Loomed like a vertical demise
Rising in the muted corner
Or rather the clandestine core
Of the disembogued hearth
And I can tell in its scathed varnish
Of weary and eroding mauve
That it had once vied to emancipate
From the providence's dictates
And that was probably when
Its hands stopped from moving
The pendulum was now a lissome
Unwavering string to the grave
Of the clockwork's very soul
And although it never swings
Its phantom was undulating
Into the sloped paths of impasse
Swelling and bloating inexorably
Without beckoning the rousing
Of the prismatic night lights
Perhaps it was consumed
By the darkness of the hour
And in this unholy instances
Of the suppressing nights
I can still here the diurnal ticking
Of its moribund arms
And the infinitesimal gears
And their asunder whirring
Billowing in a haunted echo
Sojourned, like how it was once
Smoldering in zeal and alacrity
And the memories sank
Into the capricious sea
But not of the forgotten
Rather, of the evocative forgotten
A bandwagon of phantoms.
Halted but never liberated
The clocks never stops
It never even started
And you will realize this, flat and hollow,
When you understand that the clock
Only stirred when you had handed
Time, in your unbolted callused palms
And no one ever took it
As the nights will never permit
Nothing ever ends
Even when the clock sojourns.
poem by Norman Santos
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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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The Bells
And the actresses relate
To the actor who comes home late
After the plays have gone down
And the crowds have scattered around
Though the city lights and the streets
No ticket could be beat
For the beautiful show of shows
Ah, broadway only knows
The great white milky way
It had something to say
When he fell down on his knees
After soaring through the air
With nothing to hold him there
It was really not so cute
To play without a parachute
As he stood upon the ledge
Looking out, he thought he saw a brook
And he hollered, look, there are the bells
And he sang out, here come the bells
Here come the bells, here come the bells
Here come the bells
Here come the bells
Here come the bells
Here come the bells
Here come the bells
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ring Them Bells
Ring them bells ye heathen from the city that dreams
Ring them bell from the sanctuaries, 'cross the valleys and streams
For they're deep and they're wide, and the world's on its side
And time is a-runnin' backwards and so is the bride
Ring them bells St. Peter where the four winds blow
Ring them bells with an iron hand so the people will know
Oh it's rush hour now. on the wheel of the plow
And the sun is a-goin' down upon the sacred cow
Ring them bells sweet Martha for the poor man's son
Ring them bells so the world will know that God is one
For the shepherd is asleep where the willow weep
And the mountain is filled with lost sheep
Ring them bells - for the blind and the deaf
Ring them bells - all those who are left
Ring them bells - for the chosen few
Who'll judge the many when the game is through
Ring them bells - for the time that flies
For the child who cries when innocence dies
Ring them bells St. Catherine from the top of the roof
Ring the bells from the fortress for the lilies that bloom
For the lines are long and the fighting is strong
And they're breakin' down the distance between right and wrong
song performed by by Alice In Chains
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fan Mail
I set my hand to writing you... it drifted off the page.
I sold my one vision for a piece of the cake... I havent ate in days.
For unspoken value, aesthetic, and charm, Id smile at you sideways,
But the lighting is wrong.
Im taking a picture, and counting the cost, while the bells in my ears keep ringing.
I set my hand to writing you... it drifted of the page.
I nearly fell, I feel like a lowlife in hell and I havent slept in days and days, days and days...
Beat on my fender through my gemini 2, play to the posters on the wall of my room.
Thought I was crazy when Id think about you... and the bells in my ears keep ringing.
And the bells in my ears keep ringing.
In my ear bells are ringing.
song performed by by Blondie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Four Of Two
Underneath a big clock at the corner of 5th Avenue and 22nd Street
I stood and waiting for a girl I knew at the spot where we agreed to meet
It was four minutes of two
At four of two, I stood waiting for the girl
I was four minutes early for the date we had planned
I was planning to say I was in love with her
Just as soon as she showed for a two o'clock date
And the clock said four of two
At four of two, I was staring into space
She was not yet late, according to the clock
I was feeling nervous so I kept looking up
At the clock sticking out of the side of the building
And it still said four of two
At four of two, I began to feel tired
And I rubbed my eyes, and again I checked the time
It seemed as if the sky was growing dark...
But I felt reassured when I looked at the clock
And it still said four of two
I lay my head down on the sidewalk so in case she were coming I would have a better view
But no one was there so I stretched out and closed my eyes for a second or two
It was four minutes of two
At once I awoke to a futuristic world
There were flying cars and gigantic metal bugs
I'd grown a beard; it was long and white
But I knew that the girl would be coming very soon
For though everything had changed, there was still that clock
And it still said four of two
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Simple Days of Innocence
They talked about the ice cream man
And they waited just for him
And from their homes fast they ran
For the tinkling bells that called to them
Together they laughed on autumn nights
As hand-in-hand they walked
Down city streets past flickering lights
And of old memories they fondly talked
The sound of bells no longer rise.
Yet they smiled on moonless nights
As lightening bugs flew past their eyes
To dance ballets of mystic lights
“Ghosts” they said, “of old lamplighters
Who’ve come to light our way.”
But innocence lost with childhood dreams
Of loving warmth and songs
Fly away on night’s moonbeams,
And are gone, forever gone..
Oh, the simple days of innocence.
Gone, forever gone.
poem by Thomas Noel Smith
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Church Bells
Church Bells
Once I lived in a charming English village, near
an ancient church, every Sunday morning
on my only day off, the bloody bells chimed.
Thought I saw a woman cycling to mass in
the mist, and it wasn´t Germaine Greer.
When Muslims ruled Andalusia, they tolerated
Christians, but a poet of that time -Ibn Baqi-
circa 1059 1112, wished they wouldn´t clang
bells so hard waking him up when air was cool,
sleep sweet and his Christian mistress had to
get up and go to mass. So far nothing has
changed, dear Ibn Baqi, the bells keep on tolling
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Work - the cycle
Wake, work, home, eat sleep
This cycle keeps on and on
As the time it takes is so long
Wake, work, home, eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
This cycle don’t seem at all to end
All your life in work you seem to spend
Wake work home eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
You start to see your life is slipping away
As people no longer around you stay
Wake work home eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
I’m surprised now I’m even getting time to eat
It would be bliss to stop rest my feet
Wake work home eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
You doing so many hours you feel ill
And you keep doing the cycle still
Wake work home eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
People bosses customers just keep adding more
You start to long for sleep and to snore
Wake work home eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
Something drastic happens the cycle breaks
And that all that it really takes
Wake work home eat sleep no more., ….
Hells Bells
Im a rolling thunder, a pouring rain
Im comin on like a hurricane
My lightnings flashing across the sky
Youre only young but youre gonna die
I wont take no prisoners, wont spare no lives
Nobodys putting up a fight
I got my bell, Im gonna take you to hell
Im gonna get you, satan get you
Chorus:
Hells bells
Yeah, hells bells
You got me ringing hells bells
My temperatures high, hells bells
Ill give you black sensations up and down your spine
If youre into evil youre a friend of mine
See my white light flashing as I split the night
cause if goods on the left, then Im stickin to the right
I wont take no prisoners, wont spare no lives
Nobodys puttin up a fight
I got my bell, Im gonna take you to hell
Im gonna get you, satan get you
Chorus
Yeow
Hells bells, satans comin to you
Hells bells, hes ringing them now
Hells bells, the temperatures high
Hells bells, across the sky
Hells bells, theyre takin you down
Hells bells, theyre draggin you around
Hells bells, gonna split the night
Hells bells, theres no way to fight, yeah
Ow, ow, ow, ow
Hells bells
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ring Them Bells
Ring them bells ye heathen from the city that dreams
Ring them bells from the sanctuaries cross the valleys and streams
For theyre deep and theyre wide
And the worlds on its side
And time is running backwards and so is the bride
Ring them bells saint peter where the four winds blow
Ring them bells with an iron hand so the people will know
Oh its rush hour now
On the wheel and the plow
And the sun is going down upon the sacred cow
Ring them bells sweet martha for the poor mans son
Ring them bells so the world will know that God is one
For the shepherd is asleep
Where the willows weep
And the mountains are filled with lost sheep
Ring them bells for the blind and the deaf
Ring them bells for all of us who are left
Ring them bells for the chosen few
Who will judge the many
When the game is through
Ring them bells for the time that flies
For the child that cries
When innocence dies
Ring them bells saint catherine from the top of the room
Ring them from the fortress for the lilies that bloom
For the lines are long
And the fighting is strong
And theyre breaking down the distance between right and wrong
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ring Them Bells
Ring them bells ye heathen from the city that dreams
Ring them bell from the sanctuaries, cross the valleys and streams
For theyre deep and theyre wide, and the worlds on its side
And time is a-runnin backwards and so is the bride
Ring them bells st. peter where the four winds blow
Ring them bells with an iron hand so the people will know
Oh its rush hour now. on the wheel of the plow
And the sun is a-goin down upon the sacred cow
Ring them bells sweet martha for the poor mans son
Ring them bells so the world will know that God is one
For the shepherd is asleep where the willow weep
And the mountain is filled with lost sheep
Ring them bells - for the blind and the deaf
Ring them bells - all those who are left
Ring them bells - for the chosen few
Wholl judge the many when the game is through
Ring them bells - for the time that flies
For the child who cries when innocence dies
Ring them bells st. catherine from the top of the roof
Ring the bells from the fortress for the lilies that bloom
For the lines are long and the fighting is strong
And theyre breakin down the distance between right and wrong
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grand-Father's Clock
My grand-father's clock was too large for the shelf,
So it stood ninety years on the floor;
It was taller by half than the old man himself,
Though it weighed not a penny weight more.
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,
And was always his treasure and pride;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
In watching its pendulum swing to and fro,
Many hours had he spent while a boy;
And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know
And to share both his grief and his joy.
For it struck twenty-four when he entered at the door,
With a blooming and beautiful bride;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
My grandfather said that of those he could hire,
Not a servant so faithful he found;
For it wasted no time, and had but one desire --
At the close of each week to be wound.
And it kept in its place -- not a frown upon its face,
And its hands never hung by its side;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
It rang an alarm in the dead of the night --
An alarm that for years had been dumb;
And we knew that his spirit was pluming for flight --
That his hour of departure had come.
Still the clock kept the time, with a soft and muffled chime,
As we silently stood by his side;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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