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High in the Clocktower


Author: ConScribe
ASL Info:    19/M/Tucson,AZ
Elite Ratio:    5.11 - 262 /360 /143
Words: 290
Class/Type: Poetry /Misc
Total Views: 1550
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 1805



Description:


The first time I posted this no one commented at all, so I thought I would give it another chance.


High in the Clocktower



A Tuesday maybe, if I recall, hearing the news
Bellow like a brass trumpet, commanding attention.
I suppose a slip, of a sort,
Was what brought a stop
to all the watch and wonder,
As the seconds slowed to no ticks at all,
I reached in a lethargic motion of decree
To verify the absence of time.

Then it speed up only to slow down
Wildly out of control and contact.
Things quickly crashed or slowly failed
As they slipped into an untimely death.
Time went mad then, whenever that was,
And its victims did the same.
So many jumped only to have to jump again,
A landing eased by the distorted gravitational conviction.
Some shot themselves
only to watch their fingers
Preceding ever closer to a sluggishly painful demise.

The world spun in uneven intervals,
Leaving the moon racing at a leisurely velocity,
Trying to keep up with such an imprecise pace.
The sun came and went as the days weren’t even days
Then it slowed down and decided to stay.

By the end of the ‘day’ I had grown to be old
While my friends, everyone who was anyone to me
Varied in age, some even reversed in the cycle of life
Time’s oblong dimensions forcing them to another childhood,
Brought so unnaturally upon them.

But then, as we all gave up hope for a future, or a possible past
That existed without the comfort of clocks,
Someone, off beyond the cosmos, awoke
And found time a fiasco, missing entirely,
With the ebb of existence all but erased.
That someone, at that exact moment,
Decided never to nap on the job again.





Submitted on 2006-04-15 13:02:59     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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Comments


  It can be hard to get a reader to accept a grand metaphor like this, but your storytelling imagery sucked me right in to the fantasy and metaphor.
Like the timestream, the lines speed and slow through irregular lengths and syllable pattern.
Your use of latin-based words is interesting. In verse 3, for example, they make the first three lines very impersonal, then you follow with two homier ones, for a contrast that makes the first half of the verse seem active, the moon being occupied with the mechanics of keeping pace with the Earth, and the second half more reflective, as though the sun were aware of its own decision to hold still. The moon and sun become characters.
Verse four is like life. Some people get old faster than others, some become selfish brats all over again, some restart their lives.
"Some shot themselves . . ." Your description of the death is clever. It reminds me of the equation 1/x (help, there's school in my brain!) where it always approaches the end and gets closer and closer, but never quite makes it, like the way a theoretical candy bar can last forever. And it has to be that way, because once the person dies, they can't watch anything anymore---can they?
"I reached in a lethargic motion . . ." When I was little I used to do this to confirm there was time. This kind of thing is what I love about your descriptions: you take the basic mechanics of life in "four dimensions," which we all forget to notice, and then run through them when there is no time, making the poem so convicing.
The only thing I'd change is the last line, but I can't think of anything in particular that would help. It might need to be shorter.
| Posted on 2006-04-15 00:00:00 | by Rokhal | [ Reply to This ]
  A very interesting idea, but filled with awkward phrasing. That awkwardness could have mimicked the conditions you describe, but to me, they do not. “Speed up” (S2) should be “sped up”. I feel the word “only” is out of place. Simply, “then it sped up and slowed down”, I think would be better, and “then it sped and slowed” would be better still. Also, that phrase probably should have a comma at the end. “Untimely” is very clever. There are many other nits to be picked and tweaks to be made that I think could make the poem’s language as good as the idea, which is truly imaginative. One final nit: Capitalizing each line probably detracts from the mood of the poem, and the subject. Capitals imply order, and your theme is about a condition of disorder.
fred
| Posted on 2006-04-16 00:00:00 | by fredmelden | [ Reply to This ]
  I take it the premise here is time has gone
Out of kilter, well It is rather obvious isn’t it.
I do love this type of conjecture, and I was
Thoroughly entertained by the read. I was
Reminded of Phillip K Dick’s work. He did
So twist my thoughts with time related
Anomalies. Well I think Rokhal has voiced my
Thoughts perhaps better than I could do so myself but I suppose I shan’t get off that easy, So when I began Reading I thought god the flow is so uneven but then When I got into the story I said duh it fits so what I first
Perceived as a flaw becomes an accentuation to the detail So really that’s a no issue, then I was thinking this sounds Like one of those hell days at work that some thrive on And others are beaten to the bone by. Or I could just take it
Literally, or I could look at it as a metaphor of the universe Where because of things like speed and mass time is passing At relative rates for those who exist where they are. And who really Can say maybe there are places where time is so distorted it changes
Direction. Then there is the Tuesday thing I read a book it could even Have been one of Dick’s I don’t remember for sure but
In it people had one day a week (because of population pressure)
That they spent doing their thing, the other six days were Spent in stasis, well the Tuesday thing just pricked a memory
That and the time factor the two stories are not really Similar. But time sure is fun to play with in fiction anyway
And I have rambled enough, all I can really say is hey it Works for me and I did enjoy the read.
| Posted on 2006-04-16 00:00:00 | by DaleP | [ Reply to This ]
  "they flutter behind you your possible pasts
some brighteyed and crazy some frightened and lost
a warning to anyone still in command
of their possible future to take care" (final cut)

the stream of unconsciously conscious dreamsigns playing off in this peice makes me anxious. 'a tuesday' is a great way to start off, since tuesday has an invalid distinction among the days of the week. i might have tied this in again at the end, either bringing back to that negative status, or maybe redefining it. but i enjoyed the disarrayment.
| Posted on 2006-04-19 00:00:00 | by SadieMae | [ Reply to This ]


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