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Cameron Nov 2022
Tick

Tick

Tick

The clock keeps ticking on.

First a second, then an hour.

Then a year, then a decade.

Tick

Tick

Tick

The sun had always shone for me,

but now I stand only in the dusk.

The clock keeps ticking on.

Tick

Tick

Tick

Two decades dead and gone,

How many more have yet to come?

The clock keeps ticking on.
caroline Mar 2022
the gentle reminders of my fears
sing me to sleep
“what could go wrong?”
“will i wake?”
their ever-dreadful lullaby
lulling me to slumber
a grandfather clock
a stopwatch
tick tick ticking
til all fades away
Nigdaw Feb 2022
they are all asleep
and I sneak under cover
of the lateness of the hour
to the comfort of my words
scrawled across a page in ink
from the nib of a fountain pen
they search for a target
I'll never achieve
on a journey through my head
reaching for perfection
I am tired by a world
always demanding more
than I'm prepared to give
always asking for more
than I could possibly have
but this moment is at least mine
stolen from the clock of life
My Dear Poet Feb 2022
Sunlight, moonlight
Come with their own greeting
Sun says, “good morning”
Moon replies, “good evening”.

Clockwork shift change
Little conversation on the horizon
Clocking in, clocking out
Leaving and arriving
LC Jan 2022
the ticking of a well-known clock is always in the background
as we draw breath from a planet designed to accommodate us.

sometimes, it lurks in the shadows
as we fill our hearts with love.
the present takes us by the hand,
so we stay with it joyfully.

other times, it bounces off the cold, white walls
until we cannot remember a day without it.
hope has flown away, so we wander through the past,
trying to find a way to put the noise to bed.

we find a moment that is soft to the touch -  
where the only sound we can hear is laughter.
we hold it to our chests to stay warm
as we close our eyes in surrender.

the ticking finally stops.
Alan S Bailey Jan 2022
You see the writing, the truth in life,
Behind the painting of joy, none can say.
An empty room, a seat wherefore to write
Things that come to mind in full light
Are burnt by the light of the world's day.

You feel like you're going to pop,
Hold on it's quite the same as when you
Were a kid, you're just watching empty
Drama and behold, after all you're just a 'clay mold,'
This is the rest of  your life. Do as you're...

No going back, you see the clock count
The endless hours of one meaningless
Waste of natural beauty as it will someday decay.
This is all that's too come, soon at least they will
Earn a fortune in time, all that's left of the sun
And the stary night sky...is 'Ashen Gray.'
Amanda Kay Burke Dec 2021
It's the continuous silent yet pressing "tick-tock"
In my head heard though I own no clock
It's opening eyes every morning to familiar pain
And constant weight of loneliness driving me insane
Sorry I haven't been posting lately
Thomas Steyer Oct 2021
I went to sleep - then woke up at 1:23
And when again at 4:56 it looked like a scheme
Then again at 7:89 but that must have been a dream
Elizabeth Kelly Nov 2021
I’m an imposter.

I’m an imposter and no one can know.

I may end up on the street in rags that once were my clothes.

Money isn’t everything,
But being poor blows

And I’m facing the clock.

What then felt like freedom now feels like a box;

Like a long leash
in a big yard
Where the gate’s always locked.
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