deepundergroundpoetry.com
Broken Clocks
Who'll remember me when my ink runs dry?
Will I just be another poetic guy when I die?
Will memories fly away in the howling wind?
Will tragedy be the means of how I meet my end?
Will enemies pretend that we were really friends?
Will my legacy stand firm or unwillingly bend?
How many will console my family when they grieve?
Will any souls hold their hands and provide reprieve?
These are the things that I sometimes wonder
Will I reach my demise after the sound of thunder?
This world's falling asunder with each tic and toc
None know of the day that their clock will stop
Will I just be another poetic guy when I die?
Will memories fly away in the howling wind?
Will tragedy be the means of how I meet my end?
Will enemies pretend that we were really friends?
Will my legacy stand firm or unwillingly bend?
How many will console my family when they grieve?
Will any souls hold their hands and provide reprieve?
These are the things that I sometimes wonder
Will I reach my demise after the sound of thunder?
This world's falling asunder with each tic and toc
None know of the day that their clock will stop
Published 18th Jul 2021
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19th Jul 2021 4:05am
For real. We don't know when God is going to punch our clock permanently.
Anonymous
19th Jul 2021 8:21am
--Samurai Dreams
The samurai must keep his death always at the forefront of his mind.
The end must be kept in mind in all things. The end is his own death.
The samurai must keep his death always at the forefront of his mind.
The end must be kept in mind in all things. The end is his own death.
20th Jul 2021 1:19pm
Beautifully expressed. I can completely relate. Actually, last night, I pondered a write, based on some of these questions...
8th Aug 2021 11:11pm
I've often wondered the same, never knowing when my time comes or how it will come, especially thinking about those we leave behind.
Amazing write.
Amazing write.
