Tick-Tock

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tick-tock of my jaded clock
tick-tock burning sofas
  snuff the embers
tick-tock feed the starving kilns

tick-tock mute the wolves
  employed to choke the members
  capture words as capsicum
  bitter burning my forevers
tick-tock grind the bones
  and lick the marrow

tick-tock let the flesh grow tender
  wrinkled, faded, back to sender
  earth to earth and dust to dust
  ashes turned to cinders
tick-… tick-.. ending 6 feet under


Today it’s Open Link Nights at dVerse. Bring one poem and join the fun, Bill will be tending the bar for the first time, and there will be lots of interesting poems to read, bar opens at 3PM EST

March 12, 2015

40 responses to “Tick-Tock

  1. I really love the flow of this poem, it reminds me of a tune filled with both mad and desperate thoughts and affirmations, like they are exchanging mater with each other, when the poem finishes I do not know should I feel like burning or be scared.

  2. The last stanza strikes me as the cycle of life moving at ‘breakneck speed.’ Life moves WAY too fast…from flesh so tender to six feet under…as the kilns are ever fed!

  3. I too like back to sender – The ashes and clock ticking reminds me that our time here is ever fleeting, and we are all ending 6 feet under ~

  4. tick-tock… one day we all get that return ticket… the father of a colleague at work is dying at the moment… it’s tough to be in that process

  5. Cremation is the only sane solution for dealing with a corpse, a husk, so there’s that. But your piece resonated with me as Holocaust-themed, the ovens, the victims, the (SS) wolves; strange no one else jumped that imagery. thanks 4 stopping by my site early; always appreciate your support of my Cinemagenics.

  6. Hi Bjorn. I’m entering a little after others, but I too thought of the Holocaust. The starving kilns, always hungry for the victims fed by the wolves. Odd contrasts of the passage of time as well – ashes vs. the always present thought of cherry blossoms on my part. How fleeting is our time here on earth. Both images of passing – tick tock, and the kilns.

  7. Per usual, you send me on an educational adventure! And I am off…capsicum. Appreciate your portion, always and fave line:
    ” tick-tock let the flesh grow tender
    wrinkled, faded, back to sender”

  8. Got the same vibe as Glenn from your reference to kilns and then ashes; but this poem speaks clearly of the destination that we all reach one day …

  9. Clever manic write Björn – how that clock ticks with the madness of it all.
    Anna :o]

  10. the clock is always ticking, and we never know when it will run out. i love the cadence of this, and also the way it doesn’t feel ominous.

  11. I can hear you reading this, Bjorn – very characteristic of your own special voice… With Best Wishes

  12. Loved this one Bjorn! The title captured my interest and the writing delivered. ” wrinkled, faded, back to sender” ain’t that the truth. We will all wrinkle, fade, and slender away….

  13. By the grace of God the brilliance achieved are eventually led to a final resting place without a choice of time and space but peacefully.

    Hank

  14. At least we all age together – as one entertainer put it I’m not old, I’m getting older and so is everyone else.

  15. Morbidly true…the time keeps ticking away. I recently visited Yad Vashem holocaust museum in Israel…sad to know man would unwind another’s clock unnaturally.
    (note:wolf plural is “wolves”)

  16. This chasing tick-tock can’t be noticeable by person….if life fulfilled, we usually struck observing someone’s wind-off….

  17. Those tick-tocks: louder and faster with age. Some intense, visceral lines in this, skillfully imbued with the occasional droll quip (feed the starving kiln, let the flesh grow tender wrinkled, faded, back to sender and, of course, 6 feet under – the final bon mot). Very cleverly crafted.

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