Lora Colon

Gold Star - 11,506 Points (26 September 1944 / Missouri - United States)

The Clock - Poem by Lora Colon

As night descends it brings foreboding,
And right on cue, here comes the fear;
What will I do when the clock strikes twelve -
When it's midnight, and he's not here

Night after night, the same scene unfolds,
Misery, why do you loiter near?
The starless ceiling of black and gray
Steadily falls, and he's not here

Not a thousand stars falling to Earth,
Nor the moon whispering in my ear
Could free me of the impending doom
Of the twelfth hour, if he's not here

What agony! will God hear my prayer,
Or into my heart thrust a spear?
The hour hand of the clock slowly crawls...
Nearing midnight.... but he's not here

But the fount of mercy doesn't flow,
My bitter cup, devoid of cheer;
As I draw the drapes, here comes the storm,
Midnight arrives, and he's not here

The clock's message echoes through the night,
Trying to provoke one more tear;
The steady ticking tells me that he's
Not here..... not here..... not here.....

Topic(s) of this poem: loneliness


Comments about The Clock by Lora Colon

  • Robert Murray Smith (6/19/2017 4:06:00 PM)


    Your poem is well penned. It evokes loneliness. Avoid cliches in your poems.+++10

    Robert
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Poem Submitted: Monday, June 19, 2017



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