Pick a mundane object in your house to feature in a story or poem.
Pick the prominent emotion in your breast to feature in a story or poem.
What do you and this mundane object have in common?
Could you anthropomorphize an appliance to lend meaning to a story?
How do mundane objects reflect us culturally or spiritually?
How do objects humanize or dehumanize us?
I am thinking more and more of computers and cell phones as I write this...
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The Clock
My clock does not tick tock
sitting still beside my bed
it digitally decides
to sound as if its dead
I know different!
Between its contact points
there is a living cell
Which knows me very well
sitting beside my glasses
as every moment passes
It counts the seconds of my life
Always reminding me
when to rise, so
that nothing chronologically
crucial can take me
by surprise
tho` my own personal
little indolent imp
tries and tries
Oh, how it tries!
The two are very well matched
It's a genuine feeling of hate
I hate, I hate , I hate,
to be very, very late
Buses run on time
and trains used to
clickety clack along
the track creating a
reassuring rhythm in
our ears which
satisfyingly allayed
our fears
We are on our way
We will get there today
And where? is now
the question everybody asks
Where are we going?
As if we didn't know
There and back again
to and fro to and fro
just like the pendulum
which swung with my
little clock's granddaddy
Sometimes when I'm off
on my travels, I pack
my little clock, she
wouldn't like to be
left behind the chimes
and if I'm on a beach
tho` the sun goes down
behind a red horizon
she's never out of reach
Counting away the seconds of my life
Dave Lewis 9 March 2010
