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Clocks, Camels, and Cliffs

Only a select few remember the past,
For the rest it seeps through,
Hardly a draft. 
A bruise nestled deep in the crevices of a peach?
No, no....
A broken pinball machine in bleak,
industrious Philadelphia?
Well, some would say it is
A confectioner etching the excess off a candied treat,
But they seem to be the ones who often wear awfully sharp ties.
Either way,
I dare to infer, that a wave goodbye
Is only loosely equated with open eyes.

A red robin pecking a redwood’s bough?
I do suppose tap-tapping will create music somehow,
But that does not seem to unravel
That shrouded painting hung upon the wall.

Sitting serenely in a white room surrounded by dripping clocks,
Each tick of the viscous pestilence mocks.
The time splurges forth,
Coating the room where presidents sit and talk of
Leaders from long ago.

A steamship sails on by fast,
And I wonder if it is headed to France.
While I sculpt my Parisian dreams,
A valve is tripped by the steam.
A chord is strummed on a blue guitar,
And suddenly tomorrow appears very far.

Distorting my presence,
The Persistence of Memory like a hound dog prowls,
Although it may be assuaged by the stench of midnight howls,
No jewel from a king’s round crown,
Or even a fortress erected upon hallowed ground,
Can contain the happenings of ten years time ago.



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A contest entry

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Comments


  • DarkenedAuras
    January 24, 2008
    Edit | Reply
    So many methaphors great write


  • grannyeri gold member
    January 23, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    Interesting write - you are right, time waits for now one, it keeps marching on and takes us all along with it, some for much longer that others. Liked the flow and the alliteration in the title, rhyme as well throughout the poem.


  • wakingdevil
    January 21, 2008

    Edit | Reply
    This was a rly good write, liked the thought and depth in this.Only flaw I saw was the rad bit forced rhyming, but other than that it was wonderful.Thx for entering and best of luck