Thursday, August 02, 2007

Box of Clocks

Here's where I keep my:
Clicking quartz quagmire
Counting single seconds
Telling time to nobody

Announcing accuracy to
Deaf mute wrenches with
Oily finger prints
In total darkness

One by one
Tiny batteries die at
Insignificant times for all
But themselves.


Discuss!
at

5 comments:

  1. Bens Breakfast1:17 PM

    I have a similar box- where I keep my tools. They just sit in there really- unless I have some work to do with them.

    There once was a toolbox in Bicester,
    with a hammer that gave me a splinter,
    I used it one day, in an incorrect way,
    And my finger developed a blister.

    And I am the non poetic one!

    ReplyDelete
  2. William2:06 PM

    Not bad Ben, but I still like mentions of deck chairs in all poetry.

    There once was a girl from Devizes
    etc etc

    ReplyDelete
  3. Anonymous2:24 PM

    Nice poem, Ben.

    Diane

    ReplyDelete
  4. Anonymous12:33 PM

    You keep your watches in a box, Red and black with triple locks
    Hidden from the light of day,
    So why,a fortune do you pay
    For chronometers so seldom seen
    Where the purchase alone has been
    The satisfaction of acquisition.

    You keep your watches in a box,
    A silent sarcophagus
    Where time does not count.

    I keep my watches in a box,
    It doesn,t need intricate locks
    For they are imaginary
    From Accurist to Omega,
    Timeless, just like yours.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Anonymous1:47 PM

    Dear Ajen

    You have too much time on your hands

    E

    ReplyDelete