The Speaking Clock Sounds So Tired Today Poem by Christopher McInnes

The speaking clock sounded so tired today,
I caught a sense of world-weariness in her announcements:
14 billion years of second-ticking callouts
each one mirroring the last and repeated endlessly.

She started strong with ‘At the first stroke’ then flagged,
till at the end she’s saying ‘Here we go again’,
that slight sigh before the next part of the story
masks a million private tears rusting up her works.

Tired, so tired of all the time that’s past,
tired of the horological monotony,
tired of the future being just the past repeated, eated,
tired of the pips and pauses going round and round and round.

Help, help, I’m trapped on the hour hand,
Been round so many times my head is numb;
banged my life against the self same numbers
so many, many times, I’d welcome
a bit of relief from the four-square repetition.