A cold hard chair
Fuses with his body
Heart pounding heavily
His eyes span around
Frantically searching
To ease his mind
Vanilla covered walls
Stare him down
His only company
Black and white squares
Alternate beneath his feet
He remains nervous
He again looks at the wall
In the corner a clock sits
Eyes focus on the red hand
It’s second hand moves
With such grace
Swiping across the circle
Passing numbers with ease
Is glowing red color
Spinning into a twirl
Seconds roll by
Charging towards him
But gone in a moment
As the hand spins
His mind calms
And his name is called
Author notes
I was once very bored in class and so I started writing the descriptiong of a clock. Then I wrote the rest of the poem around that. It was the first time I wrote one out of order.
A contest entry
- A contest for the masses by Danneh.
600 points, ended October 4, 2007, 34 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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You did a good job for someone writing out of order for the first time.
I do it for any poem that I work on for more than a day.. It's easier to me.
A little different, and I like different, and you did a grand job. Class isn't my favorite place to be either.
-Danneh<3
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