Tick...Tick...
The pendulum swings, cursing the poet,
Condemning her to a limit
She feels the cage close around her,
As each tick commands a nail to be added
Sealing her in a coffin, blocking her creativity
As fresh panic arises,
Stopping her flow in an instant
She sits and swears before taking a calming breath
1....2....3....
Turning toward the great mahogany clock,
She smiles bitterly
Before reaching behind the clock face
To remove the key,
That gives her cruel master life
The pendulum falters now,
It's rhythm no longer trustworthy,
Slowly second by second, it misses it's beat
The clock gives one final groan of protest before
with a shudder, the pendulum stops.
The poet victorious, sits once again at her desk
& writes with conviction to get the clock removed.
And now the great clock sits covered in a single white sheet,
Guarded for it's power is too greatly feared,
It waits impatient but silent for a new poet's inspiration,
on which to feast.
Author notes
I really enjoyed writing this, I kind of let myself get carried away with it. But very good contest 
Hope you like the poem!
A contest entry
- Title prompts( ready set go ) by Nakatrea.
400 points, ended November 25, 24 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
Comments
-
oh wow this is really really good
its was funn to read
i like how you used the clock
i loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeee it XD
i actually have an old grandfather clock in my room
and it does the same thing i have to take the key out just like the poet
cuz it annoys me to no end lol
but great poem
-rose -
Cursed be everything that limits the muse...
Anywho
This is really good.
I like the end the best, since it has a better flow and seems more thought out.
I would prefer left align but I understand if it was a pendulum thing
Thanks for entering
and I'm so glad you liked the contest! -
amazing samcat... you've really penned something brilliant here... I don't know what to say.. lol you've stunned me beyond many words... maybe your muse can have a word with mine? mine seems a bit caught up on other things at the moment... the rhythm of this poem is intense and tells a long story really well done xx
-
Creative
This whole poem was one excellent extended metaphor that was vivid and descriptive. My favourite part would have to be this bit:
'The pendulum falters now,
It's rhythm no longer trustworthy,
Slowly second by second, it misses it's beat
The clock gives one final groan of protest before
with a shudder, the pendulum stops.'
The rhythm was consistent and it all worked together nicely.
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