Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion

You have until October 4 to post a poem, and October 5-7 we’ll vote for which one we thought was best.

Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a poem previously used in this group.

Your poem can be any length.

This week’s topic is: Clockwork

The rules are pretty loose. You can write a poem about anything that has to do with the topic. I do not care, but the poem you post must relate to the topic somehow.

Have fun!

Thank you to Mark for suggesting the topic!

I keep missing the deadlines so I thought I'd get in first this week!
I probably won't have time to edit much so I thought I'd just chuck it in as it came into my head, comments are always welcome.

In the restless dark

Clouds sweep across the star strewn sky
blown by casual breezes that dance
to their own designs.

Mountains maintain their steadfast journey
onwards ever onwards
flowing down to the sea.

Waves tumble and crash
without thought or care
to the same tempo for eternity.

Yet here am I solidly stuck,
caught once more on the rocks
of my digital clock; two twenty two am.

Like a stuttering dial I return,
again and again,
to this same spot.

More immovable
than a mountain range.
More rigid than the breeze.

No more able to swoop or glide
than the deep blue current of the tide.
Shipwrecked on this familiar shore, again.

-------

N

You have some beautiful imagery in your first three stanzas, Nicky. The landscape has a kind of old world/Lord of the Rings feel to it. I really like how such a broad setting is then reduced to a bedroom scene in the restless hours. It is a great thought - everything continuing outside while you are tossing and turning trying to fall asleep. I particularly like your fourth stanza. Why 2.22? I have a similar thing going on with 11.11.

Your poem says a lot and I really like the feeling of timelessness and open space you've brought to it. My only suggestion is a slight change in the second stanza. For me 'flowing' doesn't quite work with mountains. I can see what you're trying to say and my suggestion would be something along the lines of 'stretching out to the sea' or 'reaching for the sea'. Just a thought.

Beautiful, sweeping poem - glad you made the deadline this week ;)

The Curl of Time


Like clockwork I checked the alarm clock, as I do every night before sleep,
And when I closed my eyes to sleep, I didn’t.
And my clockwork routine became unsprung because I do not not sleep!
As the minutes turn to more of them,
I imagine I hear the clock clicking down the seconds in my LED digital clock.

There was a time when time was not counted down by clockworks winding down,
And a second and an hour were interchangeable.

I watch her look at her watch
And in turn I turn my face to my wrist and my wrist to my face.
But so ineffectual is clock watching that absolutely nothing happens
to change
     the weight
          of waiting.

I am so preoccupied with pushing time along that,
amidst her severe business attire and tightly bound hair,
I fail to appreciate the beauty of the unconstrained curl of dark hair
at her neck
behind her ear,
   caressed unconsciously
      by her
            free
               hand.

Then I woke up and looked at my clock
And I forgot about what little I had remembered of her.

Ryan wrote: "You have some beautiful imagery in your first three stanzas, Nicky. The landscape has a kind of old world/Lord of the Rings feel to it. I really like how such a broad setting is then reduced to a ..."

Hi, Thanks Ryan!

I don't know where the poem sprang from but I often don't sleep and wake at 11.11, 1.11,2.22 & 5.55 regularly. I picked 2.22 just because that was kind of middle of the night. (when it happens I always imagine there's some significance to the numbers that if I could figure out I'd have some great secret knowledge of the world!)

I see what you mean about the 'flowing' mountains - I read Bill Bryson's brief History of Everthing and it stuck in my head that things like mountains are moving just at a rate we are too fleeting to perceive; the glass in all our window panes is flowing too apparently - I find that fascinating; that in the eyes of the universe our lives are no more significant than tiny insects are to us lasting just a bink.
Maybe I should change the line as it probably doesn't manage to convey all that in just the one line! I'll have a think.

Nicky, Loved your poem! I can identify with those waking hours and trying to go back to sleep! I used to do that like crazy. It has diminished somewhat but I do know the feeling! Great job!

Guy - Lovely! I can't describe my feelings as I read. A little sad, a little lonely but happiness because it was written so well. Very nice!

Here is my poetry submission for the topic: Clockwork Feedback is ALWAYS welcome!

The Shopkeeper by Melissa Andres

He walked into his shop
It was his very last day
Time was running out
He could no longer stay.

Hearing each tick
And every gentle tock
He smiled, oh so fondly
At the grandfather clock.

Gold-toned and silver
Lined precisely in place
All of the watches
Displayed in a case.

Things had changed
In the past fifty years
The days of technology
Sadly, were here.

Out with the old
And in with the new
He couldn't compete
Retirement was due.

His granddaughter told him
Everyone lived here and now
Didn't look back or beyond
He didn't understand how.

People used phones
Instead of "Clockworks"
Listened to weird music
Did something called twerk.

His pocket watch said
It was time to leave
The day passed by quickly
So hard to believe.

The gears and mechanics
And insides of his mind
Became irreparable
As he left all behind.

A Kubrick
any work that refers to Stanley Kubrick

The trick, I guess, that I can find,
Is making each line end in rhyme,
To look above to fetch the get,
In doing so is quite the fete,
But there is one, cause for harangue,
Burgess wrote, 'A Clockwork Orange'.

*Time and Time Again*

There will come a time
When time matters not
When the weather changes
From cold to hot.

There was a time before time
And there will be a time after
The clocks may still work
But in the end it
Won't
Matter!

There will be a time
When simple possessions
Are last on the mind
And no one knows more than others
And no one is blind.

Perhaps a time or two
Where no one
Except you
Cares for your physical reflection

They'll listen to your voice
And watch the way you act
They'll see your first choice
And what you think is or is not bad.

So when it comes down to it
You need to show what you want
There will come a time that you'll care
But you'll be
The
Only
One.

Very nice, Mark and Billie Jo!

Melissa, thank you for the comment.

Nicky, I loved the imagery in the first three stanzas. And I loved, especially, the image of mountains flowing, to show that in eternity not even mountains stand still. This sets up a nice contrast for the paltry eternity of being stuck at 2:22 am. I — and this is just a personal quibble, so ignore if you like — think you could make the contrast stronger by compressing the last four stanzas into three.

Melissa, I enjoyed your gentle comment on the passing of time and our natural movement towards obsolescence and death.

Mark, this was fun! I like the natural self-referential joke built-in by not quite getting the rhymes right! It made me smile. (You haven't asked for a suggestion, so stop reading now if you don't want one. But given that the first two lines and last two lines almost rhyme, may I suggest that instead of 'fete' you use 'feat', because then the middle two lines would also not quite rhyme, and heighten the irony of the poem as a whole.)

Billie Jo, the closing of your poem came as a nice surprise and made me smile.

Thank you Melissa glad you liked it. Thank you Guy, I'll give your suggestion about the compression some thought - I see what you mean, it's kind of bottom heavy! I hate stripping stuff out - probably why my house is stuffed with things that are waiting for their purpose to become apparent!

Excellent, Guy! I think this is one of your best. The slight change in meaning with the different spellings is a pleasure to read. For me, it had the effect of completely focusing my attention on the line I was reading and, once I surfaced, I was in a new place altogether. I really like this poem as a whole but two places stood out to me as particularly fine:

'a second and an hour were interchangeable' - what a stunning way to describe that uncluttered time in life before everything threatens to drag you under with its weight.

'I fail to appreciate the beauty of the unconstrained curl of dark hair' (as well as the thought leading up to it) - wow! This blew me away.

You have captured some deep insights and explained them with grace and simplicity. This poem is clever without trying to sound clever and an absolute pleasure to experience.

Thank you Ryan. It felt good getting in here and writing again. :-) This was a fun image to write.

Really good ones this week:

Nicky, two twenty two, just rolls of the tongue, and time can be a river, or a mountain. Really good.

Guy, 'I watch her look at her watch', brilliant!

Melissa, Timeless. The last few weeks I have spent searching for someone to repair a 100-year-old cuckoo clock, found an old guy in his 80's with a small shop in his backyard. You captured that for me.

Billie Jo, 'There will come a time, When time matters not', sad but soothing. Nicely done!

Thank you, Guy and Mark! Mark, I'm glad you found someone to fix your clock. I think today with cheap, digital clocks from Walmart or wherever, people don't care about craftsmanship any longer, hence, my poem!

Melissa, And in the days of spell checks, blogs, txts, and cut-n-paste, some forms of writing have become an old world craft.

Hi, Melissa. Wow! You've done a super job conveying the emotion of being cast aside and no longer needed. I hate our throw-away attitude to a lot of things and fondly remember the days when we crafted with care and made to last. You've summed it up most eloquently in your poem. I absolutely love your lines, 'His pocket watch said/It was time to leave' - this works for me on so many levels. What a line! Another piece to be proud of :)

I have thouroughly enjoyed everyone's poems so far on this topic. Very nice work!

Thank you Mark and Robert. :-)

Guy: Guy, you haven't asked for a critique. But here is a small one. I don't like the title. How about something like 'The Curl of Time'?

Busy, busy days for me! I have been trying to come back here and read and comment but it's bee tough! Just wanted to say thank you Ryan for your kind words! You always say such nice things! :)

Guy wrote: "The Curl of Time


Like clockwork I checked the alarm clock, as I do every night before sleep,
And when I closed my eyes to sleep, I didn’t.
And my clockwork routine became unsprung because I do n..."

I didn't read this until just now and I feel like I stole your line about "when time was not" and now I feel bad I'm sorry! :/

Billie Jo, do not apologize for your words. Undoubtedly they were used before me and have been used by many elsewhere. Nothing we write is without precedent. What we write is, hopefully, our own unique voice, with 'borrowed' words. :-)

Interesting poem, Al. Needed to read it several times. I liked it.