Infinite Time

 Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The incessant repetition is enough

to make her go crazy,

a reminder of sand slipping through

open fingers, caressing fingertips,

and falling into endless space.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The hands upon such a blank face

never think to stop it's movement,

a cycle of merry-go-round

with a steady beat to keep rhythm

for a heart such as hers.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The numbers count down to her demise

a marching band to her loneliness,

she calls for the company of strangers

that imitate lines and dashes of black

faces a mess in the chaos.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The hypnotizing noise from the clock

echos through her head,

bouncing off walls and crashing into a deep blue ocean

that are her thoughts for she had drowned years ago

when his shadow no longer stood beside hers.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

 

Tick.

Author's Note

Story picture found at: http://davinciautomata.files.wordpress.com/2007/06/clock_screen02.jpg

Reviews

[raining]

this poem is one of those that makes the reader think about it as it moves down the page. the juxtoposition of ticking and the writers conscious awareness going on at the same time is interesting.

"imitate lines and dashes of black faces" has a sureal dream quality...the first stanza sets the reader up for the following stanzas, this is good writing at its best...

[vandana]

Nice poetry.....well written.

[StoryTailor]

THis is good. IT makes me think, and I commend you for that.