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literature
Word Spill: ClockWork
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Literature Text
Everything in life
Seems to be measured in time
The tick-tock of whatever's left of
Yesterday
And no necessary promise for a better Tomorrow
We walk this earth
Holding on to what life we have lived
Dreams of a life we wish we had
What we want to do, and when we want to do it
But nothing is ever quite that way
Life, in itself
Is measured by day
Placing value on everything
So nothing is as 'Humdrum' as it seems
And no one could question
Our purpose or place
Everything is relative
And sacred
And significant
Every second we breath
Make a choice
Take a bow
Break a heart
But why do we nitpick
And dissect
And make excuses
Holding on to our stopwatches
Timing every error made by man
As the end of our days
Seem to be creeping up
And we're beside ourselves
With worry
That the time we spend
The very moment in which we are defined
Means absolutely nothing at all
For every second we hold
Ourselves back
Worrying about what people will think
Or say
We lose a second of what could have been
Trying to decipher what is to come
Forgetting that there could be another day
To try again
To make things right
But we're too caught up
In Clockwork
Seems to be measured in time
The tick-tock of whatever's left of
Yesterday
And no necessary promise for a better Tomorrow
We walk this earth
Holding on to what life we have lived
Dreams of a life we wish we had
What we want to do, and when we want to do it
But nothing is ever quite that way
Life, in itself
Is measured by day
Placing value on everything
So nothing is as 'Humdrum' as it seems
And no one could question
Our purpose or place
Everything is relative
And sacred
And significant
Every second we breath
Make a choice
Take a bow
Break a heart
But why do we nitpick
And dissect
And make excuses
Holding on to our stopwatches
Timing every error made by man
As the end of our days
Seem to be creeping up
And we're beside ourselves
With worry
That the time we spend
The very moment in which we are defined
Means absolutely nothing at all
For every second we hold
Ourselves back
Worrying about what people will think
Or say
We lose a second of what could have been
Trying to decipher what is to come
Forgetting that there could be another day
To try again
To make things right
But we're too caught up
In Clockwork
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Another Wordspill. I don't like this one as much as the other one's but I do think this one is acceptable. I'm usually hard on myself with my writing...but I'll leave that to you guys I guess 
Some of my personal views on humanities concept or time/clock work is laced into this poem. Personally, I think people forget that we only get one life, only so much amount of time to make a mark. Instead of worrying about what everyone ELSE is doing, make it count. Anywho...enjoy(I hope) :3
Some of my personal views on humanities concept or time/clock work is laced into this poem. Personally, I think people forget that we only get one life, only so much amount of time to make a mark. Instead of worrying about what everyone ELSE is doing, make it count. Anywho...enjoy(I hope) :3 © 2008 - 2024 Medoriko
Comments24
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Wonderful, and so true.
By the way, I've been thinking about trying to revive wordspills. I noted the group last week, but I still haven't heard anything back; I don't know if anyone checks the related account anymore. If I were to start a similar group, would you be interested?
By the way, I've been thinking about trying to revive wordspills. I noted the group last week, but I still haven't heard anything back; I don't know if anyone checks the related account anymore. If I were to start a similar group, would you be interested?