"pocketwatch" poems
Today I walked in from work
Making my way throught the strange and quiet house.
I couldn't understand when I walked into my room and saw you snuggled in my blanket
My bed has never looked so warm and so inviting
Your red hair spilling all over the pillows
Cascading into the shadow
I laid down fully dressed
Laying there in a dream
You are evreything that I will ever need
My best friend
pocketwatch
rain cloud
kissing booth
So strange to see your lips agian
Pursed and perfect
Red stained Beautiful
All so warm and simple
Not like the others
Her whole life is sweet and gentle
You can watch the parts of my life you touch
Turn away from the stoney lonesome
Your vines, your ivy, sweet smelling flowers
Wearing angel soft petals bloom in the pale moon
So what is left for me?
What more do I need?
I have my "Shelter from the Storm"
So
a long tired kiss is in order
on sleeping lips
soft and unkowing
Curling up in the warmth next to her
The flower wrapping her warm petals about me
I need nothing else in this world
As I begin to drift off into sleep so complete
A rustling on the bed beside me
Warm lips touch my ear
I hear her breathe "thank you"
and like that she left me there
I wake up alone
On this old couch
Sunlight creeping in through the broken blinds
In this trash apartment
In this nowhere town
Sober
Nov 4, 2011
Nov 4, 2011 at 12:57 AM UTC
The sky is so blue, yet so very sorrowful,
Here in my prison, these thoughts just won't fade,
Exiled from a holy world into a lonesome, somber lunacy,
This painful day, the dream of a better, hopeful tomorrow,
Are truly the light of my fading consciousness in this hell,
So I went to count the days till judgement deems me pure again, until I may become whole once more from these broken shards of the past,
Budding sprouts begin to bloom quietly, as the timeless seasons rush by and vanish into the bittersweet remembrance of ones memories,
"Stay, even if you're weak, dear conscious" I wispered to myself as then my tired eyes got distracted for a brief moment,
Time already had come to an inevitable halt, so at least my pocketwatch told me after letting out one last, delicate ticking sound,
With that, the phantoms of my past had laid down to rest, as the coming dawn greeted me by displaying the fading stars of the sky,
This is truly a repeated tale I endure in this pitiful isolation,
But if my painful past were to be erased, the last brilliance of my life would be deemed lost, for the darkest moments truly are a gift from above, helping us to determine moments of joy, bliss and purest love,
So I hope that one day, this body of mine will swift into prayers, hopefully in the beauty of an unclouded light, filled with moonlight,
Maybe then, I can finally move on, leave this lunacy far behind me,
Deep inside these puzzled eyes give me courage,
Despite being sealed away I shall discard everything and challenge this unmerciful fate of mine,
Then I can reach that sky, where my ideals are displayed,
Surely freedom awaits the border of consciousness, at least I hope,
Love blooms on the waters surface, filled with countless tears
And with this newfound freedom I can withdraw myself in this wonderful, pure holy world I waited for so long!
Despite it being distant a fantasy,
I dream of a hopeful tomorrow,
Here, in my exile.
~ Umi
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 5:08 AM UTC
When I was 18 I learned a lesson in jewelry:
A pocketwatch that taught about loss
that was never mine to lose.
I borrowed the euros I paid for it.
Most loss is something felt by ranchers
and bankers
and stock brokers.
Because they own the things they have.
You are not mine and so I cannot lose you.
That's free sadness
and free happiness, too.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
Animated by twitch of muscle,
Electric spark through live wire,
Humming rail and synapse,
Wheels spin at the fingertips of maybe
An ineffable humorist,
The mastermind of this beautiful prank
Pocketwatch of silver and gold
That explodes in the hand
And leaves you stranded on the platform
The second you go to check the time.
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 1:55 PM UTC
In bed by eight and then storytime
Lots of time
Just enough time and a short enough memory to know there was a tomorrow
Just enough time and a short enough memory to not understand aging
Until I had plucked all the hairs off my chinny chin chin
And discovered if the big bad wolf was real that he lived inside of me
He ate my years
My dad's pocketwatch was in sync with the grandfather clock
Its tiny hands resonating louder than
The protesting silver cogs
The screaming mahogany treads
"Tik tok...
Tik tok...
Ding. Ding."
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 1:30 PM UTC
no one could ever understand
why i loved clocks so much
i would hold them to my ears
and listen endlessly to their tickings
i would imagine strange mechanical worlds inside of them
and rub my fingers over their gears and hands,
and if they had eyes i would have seized those too
i only loved them in the daytime, though
their rhythm was too much at night,
it would intrude on my nonsense world
and demand order, which wasn't ever any fun for my dreams
i know others, whose nighttime clocks reminded them
of the horror of the Telltale Heart
which is strange, because i know someone,
someone very dear, and very sick,
whose heart ticks and does not beat
whose hands and eyes and everything
are dying, dying, but her heart
died long ago, so now it ticks,
ticks on and on, ceaselessly, reliant as a clock
i love clocks because they tick
because they beat, and make me think of hearts
that do not fail, even when all else does, or is going to,
and manage to be right at least twice a day
even when they're already broken.
Jan 3, 2012
Jan 3, 2012 at 6:58 PM UTC
strapped to the darkest horse
on a hell-bound carousel
here where colors envelop each other
reds devouring greens in a maelstrom of artificial light
until
inexplicably
time crawls to the beat of a hibernating heart
and she can locate her bearings
strewn amongst the dust of the cottonmouthed ground
and regain them.
she trips
stumbles
into a cloud of mushrooms
as their caps unscrew
and come loose
red-tipped pills scatter like rats
each with a tinny metal voice
shrieking a harsh cacophony
of swallow me
while the roses
with thorns of syringes bristling down their backs
pull out their plungers
and wait.
she bolts from fright and pressure
into the badly beaten path
into the fender of the massive carriage
into the beams of the heart-shaped headlights
cutting cards through her porcelain flesh
a royal flush
an imperceptible gasp—
a small white rabbit
wide-eyed in the dirt
twitching
to the rhythm
of the hands
of his smashed and derelict
pocketwatch.
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 11:41 AM UTC
I had
my cold hands against my neck
I had
a new blouse on
I had
a sad empty feeling
your sad empty smile
was mine
a clock without numbers
a clock without a body
a ghost on the opposite wall
it could never be a pocketwatch--
a young girl’s lip trembled
--neither could she
the door was swinging open
and closed
and open
and cold
winter the storybook villain
had turned to winter
the armed robber on Washington Street
sad and empty had turned from something
to all we are
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 8:51 PM UTC
Ash like snow covered the town
a black and white feeling..
with a chrome look
and gray colored gesture
she sat and stare..
A dozen hourglass in sight
and a pocketwatch she held tight
along with her blank look
and pallid face,
she murmured; 'you're late'
with the most absent-minded tone
she could make..
Am I late? I asked myself quietly
Yes you are, yes you are, she replied,
A voice as smooth as it's dreamy
defies her silly looking eyes towards me
Where am I?, I asked her
She answered, You're stuck on reverse as you can see..
She asked for the hourglass that I hold so tight
I gave it to her, confused, not thinking if it's right..
I shouted wait, can I take it back?
She looked at me, well then, would you like to redo your life?
A quiet nod that means yes,
You're one odd fellow I guess..
As she turned it over once again,
sands of time free flowing
Embrace life, open your eyes
this is one great morning..
Feb 25, 2011
Feb 25, 2011 at 3:24 AM UTC
I want your body pressed to mine so our hearts feel each other's beats.
My arms circled around your waste
and a kiss pressed to your face
a sound rhythm in our veins
I can't even begin to explain
You drive me crazy,
in a good way
I'd give anything at all
if it meant forever you'd stay
I don't think I have to, though
we're near tied together
A hundred minutes, weeks, or years
Any amount of time's forever
An infinity of our own
I can build a life around you
Pressing kisses to your palms
Pressing faith into truth
Matrimony? In time,
no need to rush it all
we've got forever ahead of us, darling
and I've already started to fall.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
She said;
‘One day you’ll
grow up
and
escape all this
madness,
One day you’ll
find
some happiness’
But i’m still
waiting
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 9:27 PM UTC
Confused conjucture breeds many different lies
It becomes the screaming banshee of our time, wicked as one can see through our rose colored glasses
It is like a pocketwatch that has been wound up too tight, the springs have sprung on the inside
Demented through the years, they become uncertain with time itself, grey and cloudy
Pressed against the center stage, a voice rang ill-fated truths to all ears, but no one was listening
Pushed out of the seat of demise, we stare back at the crimes, allowing a dismal approach to our self conscience
It is to say four be six in a different view only to sit below the compass of the operators
We can imagine many things forfeiting who we are, bleeding rituals of cultural disbelief, we turn around and see
So be the right or wrong, it becomes a sense of our moral code, when do we pick it up and put in our pocket though
Nov 17, 2024
Nov 17, 2024 at 12:57 AM UTC
An old time clock
with a weight swaying
to and fro, a pendulum
I think they are called?
Side to side
or an old wind up pocketwatch,
that won't wind anymore,
or a tie clip from your Dad's
collection.
You look at it in the old cigar box
it's been carefully put away when
his aftershave seems to fill the air,
and you recall Momma hugging him?
Now you only have no ties to use
a tie clip for.
And a clock in the corner and
one in your cigar box,
not ticking,
anymore.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 8:03 PM UTC
“Papaw, whatzat?”
My granddaughter asks,
As she watches me
Pull my pocketwatch
From the front of my bibs
To check the time.
“That’s my watch.”
I tell her,
As she holds it in her hand,
Intently studying.
She shakes her head.
“It takes too long
To know
What time it is.”
She remarks.
Out of the mouths of babes…
But I like it.
The slow deliberate
And quiet ticking
Of the pocketwatch
In my bibs.
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 6:26 AM UTC
They say time is healing
But my clock is dry heaving
With each tick my pocketwatch is seizing
And I'm sitting here disbelieving
Can't you hear me
My hands stuck on ten and two
Unaware of what I'm supposed to do
The lack of passing seconds leaves me blue
I need to turn the wheel to turn a different hue
But this car i bought seems to be used
And the power steering seems to be bruised
I can't afford to lose
Another battle so its time to try something new
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 2:59 PM UTC
Give me a kiss
I promise I won’t tell
Give me a secret
I will not spill
Give me a cup
Overfilled
I’ll give you my watch
My time
My life
Why are we skipping
Skipping on stones
Why are we dancing
Dancing at home
Why are we stepping on tabletops
Smiling at the raindrops
Marvelling
At how the world flows
Give me a kiss
I promise I won’t tell
Give me a secret
I will not spill
Give me a cup
Overfilled
I’ll give you my watch
My time
My life
Tell me a story
A story about love
Tell me a fun fact
I’d want to know
Tell me the reason you stay
The reason you wave
The reason we still smile and sing
Give me a kiss
I promise I won’t tell
Give me a secret
I will not spill
Give me a cup
Overfilled
I’ll give you my watch
My time
My life
Lie next to me in bed
We have all night
You’ll stare at the ceiling
Hand in mine
Close your eyes dear
Let them tear
I’ll be waiting for you
At the end of the line
Give me a kiss
I promise I won’t tell
Give me a secret
I will not spill
Give me a cup
Overfilled
I’ll give you my watch
My time
My life
Give me a kiss
Promise I won’t disappear
Tell my story to your children
My heartbeat to your dreams
Count the seconds to the sunrise
The seconds till the moon arrives
In this world
We don’t have much time
Give me a kiss
I’ll give you my watch
I know it’s not much
But it’s all I have
Every moment is fleeting
Every word is the last
But don’t you worry
In heaven
Everything will pass
Mar 15, 2021
Mar 15, 2021 at 8:38 AM UTC
my heart was a pocket watch
you made me tick
when you threw me away
now the buttons don't click
you carried me everywhere
I served best as I could
holding on to your side
my shine always stood
one trip down the slope
and down the clock went
hit the floor hard
my gears being spent
my hands froze at midnight
still stuck on a dream
my watchman was never
the man that he seemed
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 2:28 AM UTC