sunday sonnet . exquisite corpse poetry
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The Hours by pOllO
14.02.2005 20:42
A look
A glance
I wish that I could mean more
Pay me with time
With nickels and seconds

...If I can see you so easily...
...with her...
Pockets full of I OWE YOUS

Here we go
Around the clock
Where the small hand sympathizes
And the big hand slaps

Tick away the seconds
...If I can see the end...
...from here...
Alarms go off
Will they ever stop?

I try and freeze a happy moment
Time builds up behind the ice
But after so much pressure...
Cracked ice, broken memory

Tick Tock
Inner workings
A peg, a cork
Mechanical heart
A dingy machine
That spends its life measuring
But what's there to number?
When you don't love me...

Digital numbers
It's become so careless
It takes less time
To read my face

But if timing is everything
How long should we wait?
Before we try and save us...

I've been waiting to tell you
To show you
But your always late
Always running from the hours

It turns out, my dear
As it unfortunately must be...
I sigh
Moving the hands of the clock
Time is endless...
But we are not

15.02.2005 12:27
Wow! what an amazing poem really considering the date you put it on.Well kepp them coming .
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