Time

Time

A Poem by Tim Lion

Time, I guessed,

is man’s most profound

device for self torture.

you disagreed, as the

alarm clock shattered

our morning whispers,

dogs began howling

like caged banshees,

the TV came on,

and the man said,

hot! hot! hot today!

vicious light poured

through the windows

and blinded our eyes.

we drank our coffee

too quickly to enjoy it,

and shared a banana

to make for a short breakfast.

in the driveway,

you wanted to continue

the argument about

Time.

 

I told you that you were right,

because I didn’t want to

be late for work.

 

 

© 2012 Tim Lion


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Reviews

"Time doesn't exist, clocks exist."

I've had similar thoughts about time.
We really are chained to it, and it is indeed torture.

Freedom...tch.

Our lives would be far less stressful without clocks.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


Good ending, annoying how simliar all our lives can be. This made me think of that...

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Torture really does seem fitting and proper.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This is really good. I think you are right in saying that time is torture for man. People focus too much on quanity of time, not paying much attention to the quality of it.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This is just...awesome!

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Loved, loved, loved this! I especially enjoyed the last line. Such a clever piece.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I find myself engrossed in your words. A very good thing for a poem to do.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

i've been late to work for more mundane things

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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282 Views
8 Reviews
Rating
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on March 7, 2012
Last Updated on March 9, 2012

Author

Tim Lion
Tim Lion

Lake Worth, FL



About
Sometimes, when the moon presses her naked chest to my window, and my wife is carving the value from trash scraps, I feel like I may never be able to outshine my finite timeline. And the worst part is.. more..

Writing
oh sorry, oh sorry,

A Poem by Tim Lion



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