Watchmakers poems on Hello Poetry

Sean Fitzpatrick Dec 2013

Sanguine

Such slow road unwinds
Vast possibilities in mind
Fresh hatchling ashore

A standalone play, day today
Watchmakers in store
Hatch moonplay on display

Merrily a cascade, bitter
notes in rhyme
A head comes out, it's time

Chris Saitta Jul 15

To Our Love That Never Was

We live in the sunshine of our broken loves,
Where window curtains flow like pouring water from the aqueducts.

Sunlight is the memory of an old world, and we are just
Watchmakers who labor at the trumpets of time
As if to blow from the mouthpiece and unwind
The second hands and derelict hours of our luminous grief.
So too shines the scintilla of frost that covers the ancient wheat,
Snow falls like the listenings of lovers in the dark, and we are just
Cartographers of snowflakes, mapmakers of frozen eyes,
To zone the parallelogram of her strands of hair across the sky.

These and these and these
Were never ours.

#love #time #beauty #snow #sunlight

Madison Claire Jan 2015

Area 143

Deep in the desert where no one can see
Is a laboratory named "Area 143."
Like Area 51, it runs government tests
But not about aliens (though that's a good guess).

These facilities created, over the years,
A watch that would stop when your soulmate was near.
From your moment of birth, it would start to count down
To the exact moment when your soulmate was found.

For a while it worked, and all was well.
But a rise in divorce rang the warning bell.
For the watch could not predict that you'd love your mate,
Just someone that you could potentially date.

The CEO of Area 143
Tore his beard out and yelled, "This cannot be!"
He recalled all the watches and then packed them away
To a secret location, where they hide to this day.

But he did not know that other watchmakers
Had stolen the plans for these botched "soul-maters"
Today these copies are still for sale
Some think they do work, from school to jail.

So if you ever meet someone and you see your watch stop
You might have purchased one of these matchmaking flops.

#love #funny #story #soulmate

Rangzeb Hussain Mar 2010

11.59pm

The webs of time begin to unwind,
Milky Way universe of darkness,
Blackest night with a billion eyes,
I seek one grain of sand
To show you
That it cannot be done
‘Ere a million years have trickled
Drop
by
drop
bye.

Destiny rides a mare darker than white,
Tragedy is the name of the mace,
I am struck by the force of ferocity,
Offspring of glorious Mother History proudly parade
Before the victorious Time Lords,
In the reflection of an eye
I have seen a golden cage which holds
A weeping nightingale,
Her purple tears rain silently onto the dry rivers of time,
Drop
by
drop
bye.

In the time of bones
Will wires entwine with metal flesh,
It will be in the years
When the universe will digest time
And spew backwards into the past,
Fear it
This storm form the sands of time,
Drop
by
drop
bye.

Mysterious mistress mine might not you reveal all to me?
The secrets of your seductive silvery silken
Velvet creation
Explodes
Through the time tunnels,
I see the face of light approaching towards me
With outstretched fingers (or are they claws?),
Water (or is it poisonous slime?) drips from the wet body,
Drop
by
drop
bye.

I watch old Father Time drag his wizened
Body across the deserts of life,
His mistress the Second
Crawls on her stomach,
She painfully travels over the savage landscape of rocks,
Dry thorns, arid sand dunes, without even saliva
To balm her swollen tongue and chapped lips
(But I must tell all, for in truth, she had blood from her
Cracked lips to soothe her thirsty tongue).
Under the shade of the boiling sun
Each Second melts to give dry births to form
Minutes which carry the children of the Hour
Who grow up in Days
To marry Weeks which results in the creation of Months
Which eventually leads to the growth of Years,
This cycle eventually reaches a finale with the
Birth of Death,
The family of Time, watchmakers all,
From dawn to dusk
Chimes of Death do tick,
Drop
by
drop

Bye...

©Rangzeb Hussain

Sue Collins Sep 2019

Time was

It’s dark now, so it must be night. That was the rule by which we all played. We were faithful to time.
We could set our clocks on what we knew to be true. We had alarms to wake us up at the right time.
Time was on our side, if you look at it that way. It was clear and honest, and unmistakable. Unequivocal.

As time has gone by, we’re losing the old goalposts. We’re benighted by the loss of what held us together.
Big Ben silently weeps for what was. Watchmakers have no more time. We’re spinning out of control.
Frenzied by no schedule, no boundaries, we bump viciously into one another in a stupefied dance.

Lovers without time, friends untested by time, no time for resolutions of peace and good will, no time at all.
Time was our truth, not yielding to whims, never fake or malicious. It existed outside the realm of deceit.
But dark forces destroyed time and bent it to their will. Will we ever have time again?

— The End —