below the edge of icy vows of old
here lies the blood line of a rusty clock
where tales of thrill and rue are quietly told
where promises were often etched in chalk.
but underneath the false facade of fate
a layered truth began to plan its flight
a brimful dream of what the trip awaits
could scarcely keep it wakeful in the night.
no grander clocks could sensibly define
their complex interlock with hourly chime
as thankful as their souls could not align
how when their own watch dies, on goes still time.
all scornful lies of life that they adorn
the patchy quilts of time, long dead and gone.
What would the relationship between time and our humble clocks be? A clock shows us the time, and is the only instrument through which we can understand the concept of the fourth dimension in a tangible way. Time depends on the clock for its very existence, yet, when a clock breaks down, it does not affect time at all. It simply, as the adage says, goes on. And how do we know that? Because of other clocks, of course. I felt like this relationship between the two was intriguing, worth exploring. Maybe even based on lies – not different from a few relationships we will have throughout our lives – and deserved a sonnet.
This one is a Shakespearen sonnet: “All sonnets have 14 lines, which can be broken down into four sections called quatrains. The rhyme scheme of a Shakespearean sonnet is ABAB / CDCD / EFEF / GG. Sonnets are written in iambic pentameter, a poetic meter with 10 beats per line made up of alternating unstressed and stressed syllables.”