The Watch

steadfast watch from the writer’s tower
time ticks
too fast
toward its endgame bomb
boom
no life escapes that room
boom
then doom
or nothing
or a room
boom

the living colors
of the clock
face
outward
but
the clock does its ticking
inside
the weathering
withering
heat
beats

you have yours
I have mine
watches, I mean

time ticks for everyone
boom

still, ticking
mine
in beats profound
gifts
wrapped in crimson ribbons
rhythms
flow
from a faithful tower
full
the watch
watches
the pen
records the beats
in words
profound
found
only by one quick on the uptick
of time

the writer
watches
watches
tick
in aging towers
boom

~

Words and Photography ©2019 Tanya Cliff ~ to contact me

Posted in poetry & free verse.

26 thoughts on “The Watch

      1. I grew up sharing a room w my brother in the 80’s. His half was all hip hop including graffiti on the walls, mine was covered in punk and thrash posters. I DID get a good education of the rap from the ground up. Some rappers really ARE gifted poets with amazing wordplay, internal rhyme, complex poetic structures. The “boom” in your poem just took me back to the classic “orchestra hit” that DJ’S used. You have a gift with the sound of words.

        Liked by 1 person

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