Time Bound

Tick - tock,
Sounds the dying hands,
Like bells that toll rife,
In ripened, chilly air,
And hands that stoop to fell
The seasons weary run.

Dust and dirt and minds,
And broken things reply
The token sounds:

Tock-tick-tock...

Again, again, in ceaseless
Strains chorused
From every waking yawn,
Till the lull of sleep approaches
Once again...

Decreed forever to make us dance,
Like foolish puppets,
Helpless brothers;
Hapless beings of chance,
Cousins of a controlled race.

About This Poem

Last Few Words: Do not slay me, I am already dead.

Style/Type: Free verse

Review Request Direction: What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
Is the internal logic consistent?

Review Request Intensity: I appreciate moderate constructive criticism

Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Ghana, GHA

Favorite Poets: William Shakespeare

Comments

Yeah.

I can tell by your poetry.

Welcome! Good stuff.

Thanks

Thanks for the comment. I really want to improve my work and help others do the same.

welcome William

I guess we are all slaves to time and its keeper.....................scribbler

True

Sadly, it's a truth we can't deny. But time is kind, and rewards our persistence. Thanks

Yes

English is supposed to be my second language. I hardly speak anything else. :)

hello William,

Welcome to Neopoet.

This is a good first poem. I like the theme, although time's relentless march is a theme that's very common. Your imagery is wonderful, I particularly like

"And hands that stoop to fell
The seasons weary run." ("seasons" should be "season's", perhaps?)

and

"Hapless beings of chance,
Cousins of a controlled race."

Good stuff, welcome to the nuthouse! lol

True.

The typo escaped me. I'll correct it soon. Thanks for the helpful comment. :)

Having read all your recent

Having read all your recent comments I am coming back to critique your poems.

You have a great ear for language, this is something that appeals to me immensely.
Unlike many here though I also critique content.

The last line bothers me. At the risk of hubris, may I suggest that this is not true. This is going to sound arrogant but may I suggest you read my poem on time?
"Time goes round in a straight line"
http://new.neopoet.com/node/2507