The Clockmaker’s Time Wasn’t Right
The day he died they fixed them selves
The Clockmaker’s Time Wasn’t Right
The gears turned slow, the hands stood still,
a craftsman bent to time’s cruel will.
With careful touch, he shaped the past,
but every tick would never last.
His workshop hummed with silent dread,
a thousand clocks, yet all were dead.
He wound them tight, he set them true,
but fate had stitched his hours askew.
The pendulum swayed, yet mocked his plight,
for the clockmaker’s time was never right.
No matter how he spun the gears,
he chased lost seconds, stolen years.
His fingers ached, his vision blurred,
the ticking ghosts remained unheard.
He built the hours, he carved the days,
but time still slipped through unseen ways.
And when his breath fell still one night,
his clocks all chimed his time was right.
They ticked forever and a day
when he died he chased the evil away.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (7)
Thanks for sharing this gem💎
Nice job, Marie. Your poem dances along quite nicely as it tells the story.
Clocks sure do tell of changing times. Good job.
a thousand clocks, yet all were dead. he chased lost seconds, stolen years time still slipped through unseen ways Powerful! The poem weaves together perfectly the rat race of life and forever chasing time - time lost, time we fear we'll never have, never time enough, time we spent doing things we shouldn't. An overarching theme of regret weighs heavy through the very last lines as the main character of the poems breath is stilled.
Wow, this is fascinating! I liked this line a lot: the ticking ghosts remained unheard. Well done.
Fabulous 😊👏
Nice work Maria. I really enjoyed this story. Keep up the good work.