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Brett Nov 2020
In this broken clock
I find solace for the pain
Though time flows onward still
Like a river catches rain

In this broken clock
I can hear the music play
As the haggard singer smiles
And strums his soul away

In this broken clock
I fear I cannot stay
Eternally trapped inside
Trading tomorrows for today
This one means a lot.
Betty Oct 2020
Turn back the clocks
Countless ears who heard the restless call of spring
Will never dance to winters tune
The hands of time are stilled
For them the clock has stopped
On this year
And all others
This dying year
Has become a year of dying
Kristina Oct 2020
If all the clocks stood still for a whole day I'd pack my bags and take a walk.

As I leave the house I don't check my mail 'cause nobody could reach me anyway this day. I walk down the streets, breathe in the clean air and listen to the sound of silence since there are no cars or people around.

A song forms in my mind, which I sing while walking down my path alone. I reach the park next to my home and look around. Noone's there except the wind fondling the trees and bushes. A few yellow flowers are growing on the meadow, not wondering why they are even there.

I keep on walking, reach a huge square that's totally empty. I pull some chalk out of my backpack and begin drawing on the ground. I take my time drawing while admiring the place in a way I've never been able to before due to all the people and noise.

"Love is the answer, not matter what you're asking.", is written there now for everyone to see. I leave the place, walking on, taking down flags, posters and stickers of fascists and racists on my way, replacing them with rainbows and hearts.

Until the sun sets, I keep walking around, tearing down signs of hatred and building those of love.

As midnight draws nearer I sit down in the park I visited first this day, watching the world starting up again. It starts with clocks ticking, birds singing, the growing sound of voices and vehicles. The others are waking up again, hopefully to notice the traces I've left behind, maybe wonder and think about them.

I hope to have changed anything on this one day I had as my time stops and I fade away leaving a small share of silence.
Finally my clock stood still.
Anthony Pierre Sep 2020
Fireflies dance pretty
well, byte-sized fairies' tale
long & twistle: a tongue's whistle
In the dark, dark arts made
bright lights sing like a clock:

"Tik Tok, Tik Tok"

This chime, time circles
red like Asian kings: vultures
tightening the noose like Zeus
on Douyin's long neck. Hands dance, bytedance on a fairytale clock

"Tik Tok, Tik Tok"
A fairytale clock goes: "Tik Tok, Tik Tok"
Kitten Yvad Sep 2020
to which hour do I set the clocks,
this depends on you.

I dont know where the sun goes
lost within you and sheets smoothe blue

i fear i'll be shocked by what
ive already seen
on your silverscreen

Its like when the sun and moon
fight til dark hours in between

I fear i'll be shocked by what
ive already seen
your voice drifts up into
your mind , a soprano scene

To which hour were the clocks set
before your touch, which I choose?

To which hour would I set
the clocks when I dream of you?
Were the clocks set at all
before yours was a touch I knew??

I don't know why I set alarms
when I dream of you!
its like the stars
that combust and shine in space
burning below us bright blue

I fear i'll be shocked by what
ive already seen
your voice drifts up into
a soprano scene

what were clocks before your touch, when you are all I feel?

to which hour do I set the clocks?
this depends on you.

I dont know where the sun goes
lost within you,
beneath sheets smoothe blue

this is my own interpreted translation of a song I really love, "J'sais Pas" by Johan Papaconstantino. I'm barely fluent like a first grader.
Kairosclere May 2020
Clocks ticking
Slowly move away
No longer in sync

/written a world apart/
This form of writing is called an elfchen.

Connect to me
Via Instagram @_kairosclere_
Via email
On Pinterest  @_kairosclere_
On hello poetry at
And my blog

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Thank you for reading <3
Bryce Frye Apr 2020
There are days where I am high upon a dusk cloud
And rustic skylines bleed into bare trees

There are days where I bleed into white sheets
And I never leave the the lights on

There are days, and then more days
And minutes within smiles,
seconds ticking laughter, half assed conversation among fruitful hallways

Strawberry girl smiles and she would hate that I called her that
And maybe she would hit me and maybe I’m an *******, and maybe I’m a baby

And I’m a baby.

I remember not knowing I could die, not ever thinking about my heart, not ever waisting any time.
I should be that way now,
And yet as clocks continue to tick I just hum along in the warmth
So sometimes days become weeks
But sometimes days are just too short
And some days I am just to short
For the heights  I want to reach

I remember jumping had a different connotation when I was a kid...
Megan Van Zetten Jan 2020
My life goes by like clockwork
Everyday ticks by
Repeating the motions of yesterday
Matt Bernstein Dec 2019
A blind face is the only introspection
many can afford.
Does watching make it worthwhile?
Does counting calm your nerves?

The hands will always listen,
when all we are is gone
The ticking never ceases,
whispering along.
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