When the clocks stop

Though the souring time may be beset with woe, 

There comes a moment when these sombre clocks erupt 

And freeze the colour of your lips upon my face 

In a blast of joy circumscribed by hands of love. 

Existence fades away with the passing of your face 

While love lingers like the aftershave of doom, 

For I live only in fleeting moments, 

When the clocks stop and you bring me to life.

Reviews

[Devons]

'Excellent' was the word I involuntarily emitted upon the moment I finished reading this poem, and my automatic, impulsive and unprepared reaction was instinctively correct. This is a great piece of writing, every line artfully crafted and colourful to read. A previous reviewer cited correctly the stand-out second line of the second verse, but the whole is a refreshment to the discerning part of the mind (and soul - or is that the same thing somehow?). A different interpretation of the image from those imagined so far, and a very subtle one but it makes complete sense to me: like a passing explosion of feeling that is tragic in its passing, and in that way tragic in its mere existence somehow. As I have said to others before, I am fond of the poem which is able to relate to the image but not joined to it at the hip - this one particularly succeeds in that respect.
My friend, thank you, the language here is a spectacle.

[Abdul Aziz]

You have a way of getting to the heart of the matter quite easily, my friend. I debated long and hard on whether I should post this in the group, but seeing as this is the poem my mind could come up with when grappling with your image, I thought it would be best to post it and hope someone would see how it was vaguely connected. Thank you!

[underneathme]

wow :) you inspire me that even non-native speakers could do amazing poetry :) am just amused :)

[Abdul Aziz]

Thank you very much! :)

[JayceeC]

Abdul, I love the way you connected. I did not post for this contest because I've had too many things going on in my daily life to tackle this first write. However, I saw the pictures as a fading memory so immediately connected with what you conveyed. Often times, the visual memory passes out of our reach, long before the essence of them does. No matter how bad a breakup, there was something that called you to love, and therefore your moments of joy are buried somewhere in the memories.

"aftershave of doom" is my favorite metaphor here. At first is may seem too masculine for describing a woman, but second glance and a bit of though renders it far superior to a feminine version such as perfume. The word aftershave brings a lot to the table. First you have "after", connoting it's in the past. Then the "shave" brings the visual of razors and a certain sharpness and the pain. the word in its entirety, brings a heaviness that saturates the air, making in difficult to escape, and possibly hard to breath. The word "doom" just reinforces that image for me, but then I think, 'I like the smell of aftershave' and your back into the next lines where you are willing to suffer the pain for the fleeting joy that is there.
Overall you did a great job with this. I hope you enter more, and I will continue to read your work as my time allows. Congratulations on the placement. It is easy to see why Devons picked your as a write that stands out.

[Abdul Aziz]

Thank you very much for your detailed analysis of my write, and that metaphor in particular. I have to admit, I did not think of it as much as you have, and your interpretation brightened my day. Thank you very much for your kind words!

[Fran Marie]

Wow,, this comes together so nicely ...short ;however has a powerful artistic expression
To it.. and the last line here wraps it up full circle..

Well Done!!

[Abdul Aziz]

Thank you Fran :)

[Milady_Alice_Clare]

Short but effective. Some great images created. I love 'While love lingers like the aftershave of doom'. I love the whole poem, very powerful and says so much

[Abdul Aziz]

Thank you very much for your candid review!