The Man with a Clockwork Heart

The Man with a Clockwork Heart

A Poem by David Lewis Paget

‘Emmanuel’s heart is beginning to fail,’

They said to his doting wife,

‘That’s why he’s having these fainting spells,

He’s at the end of his life.’

‘But why can’t you give him a brand new heart?’

She wept, at the awful news,

‘There isn’t the cover to cover your lover,

So tell him or not, you choose.’

She chose to keep it a secret then,

But sought out another quack,

She wanted a second opinion,

A more positive one than that.

He told her it was expensive, but

He knew of a cheaper part,

If she would agree to a minimal fee

He’d fit him a clockwork heart.

‘You’ll have to wind it up twice a day

With a key you’ll fit in his back,

But don’t forget or you might regret

And he’ll suffer a heart attack.’

She said she knew, and she fairly flew

As she set out, heading home,

And told Emmanuel, he must go

With her, to the doctor’s room.

She never told him what she had done,

But wound him up with the key,

Twice a day while asleep he lay

Or napping across her knee.

He said he felt full of energy

For the first time then, in years,

And they would play as in bed they lay

While her eyes would fill with tears.

He said when he lay awake at night

He could hear a tick like a clock,

And when it wasn’t a tick he heard

He could swear it was a tock.

‘It’s just the clock in the hallway, dear,’

She said, to calm his fears,

And made him a balaclava then

To cover up his ears.

She wouldn’t let him go swimming

Just in case the spring would rust,

And kept the key in a secret place

Up high, where she didn’t dust,

She always set the alarm for when

She knew she’d have to wind,

He thought it simply a quirk of hers,

She used it to remind.

One day, she found he was missing in

The middle of the day, 

He’d taken off for a walk, forgot 

To tell his wife which way,

She madly ran round the neighbourhood

While clutching tight the key,

But couldn’t see where he’d gone

It seemed to be a mystery.

They found him slumped on the footpath

And she had to cart him home,

He wasn’t moving a muscle so 

She knew she was alone,

She wound until he was ticking 

But her husband didn’t start, 

There’s no repair for a lover, or

A Man with a Clockwork Heart.

David Lewis Paget

© 2019 David Lewis Paget

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register


Evokes many emotions, especially regret.

Posted 3 Months Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This is soooo wonderful!! I simply just loved the story!!! Omg she had to cart him home... :-( now her poor broken heart!

Posted 3 Months Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


2 Reviews
Added on January 6, 2019
Last Updated on January 6, 2019


David Lewis Paget
David Lewis Paget

Moonta, South Australia, Australia