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Poetry by A.J. McMahon
This is a poem that I wrote myself.
It is a poem about the constant march of time.
What do you think of it?
I would really love to hear your honest feedback to improve my practise.
Let me know in the comments below!
The Ticking Of The Clock
The hands of the clock,
look at you and smile,
laughing to say, no,
we cannot stop, we cannot still,
on, and on, we must march,
like ants in a hot summer,
preparing for the long winter,
long, black lines, which curl and snake,
picking up our hopes and dreams,
carrying them, as if they are twigs,
and racing, running, crawling towards,
that black hole –
the hole, a giant mouth of gnashing teeth –
a wolf’s grin, hungry for more,
hungry for all,
sucking in, like a whirlpool,
spinning and twirling, the ships
of all those adventurous enough to go
outside the guidelines of life.
Do not act as if it is unfair,
that the rich get richer and
the poor get poorer.
That is the fact of life:
the law of Matthew, who gives
gifts of myrtle, and myrrh,
to those with gold robes and gold chains.
More Poetry by A.J. McMahon:
- Loss – a poem by A.J. McMahon
- Who Wears The Crown? – a poem by A.J. McMahon
- When Will the Time By Us? – a poem by A.J. McMahon
- Winter Is Never Forever – a poem by A.J. McMahon
What’s your favourite poetry book from around the world?
What did you think of my poem about the march of time?
Leave me a comment below!
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