Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Shandel Pruitt Sep 2009
Tic… toc …Tic… toc… Tic… toc…
The rhythm of my heart’s been established…
As my mind synchronizes to the tempo of my emotions
My Symphony Of Emotion Begins…

Tic… toc …Tic… toc… Tic… toc…
Conducting this masterpiece is cautiously managed
Every belief has a unique impression
My Quartet of Passion Begins To Play

Tic… toc …Tic… toc… Tic… toc…
…The Tempo’s Slowing
Let’s Add a nice kick
Through Devotions Blowing

Tic… toc …Tic… toc… Tic… toc…
To Keep Our Place
The Vocals Of Love
Come Into Play

Tic… toc …Tic… toc… Tic… toc…
Keep the metronome’s Tempo
Move This Melody Forward
Before The tempo of the metronome slows down…
raw with love May 2014
tic-toc
goes the clock
you set your eyes on her
and now you're lost

tic-toc
goes the clock
you talk to her
and drown in the pools
of molten gold
that are her eyes

tic-toc
goes the clock
you talk to her
until the sun is up
and her phone battery's flat

tic-toc
goes the clock
you hold her hand
and know you've got her

tic-toc
goes the clock
you hug her tight
and know she's lost

tic-toc
goes the clock
you kiss her with
your deceitful lips

tic-toc
goes the clock
she's all yours and
you possess her

tic-toc
goes the clock
you make her happy
and maybe for a while
you even care

tic-toc
goes the clock
she's truly lost,
she loves you

tic-toc
goes the clock
but you grew bored
and faked it

tic-toc
goes the clock
you left her
and you broke her

tic-toc
goes the clock*
and now even
nursery rhymes
are about you
you *******
him.
Tic Toc Tic Tic Toc
The clock goes on
Like a siren’s song
Calling me into a long sleep
The clock goes on
Until you hear twelve gongs
In this game of time it plays for keeps

Tic Toc Tic Tic Toc
Around and Around this clock with its sound
Like the crier of the town
Trying to tell the news
But nothing’s done, is what we’ve found
Whether it’s humans or hounds
Now it’s time for a snooze

Tic Toc Tic Tic Toc
Am I like the clock, in the endless loop?
Working til my eyes droop
til I can finally count sheep?
Am I a baller, never getting the hoop?
following orders like a troop?
Or am I a leader, one a little neater, like little bo beep?

Tic Toc Tic Tic Toc
Time goes on
It’s time to move on
But nothing ever got done
The sun moves on
Nearing the dawn
Now it’s time for fun

Tic Toc Tic Tic Toc
Now that it’s night
It’s time to take flight
Leaving my other life behind
Of that plight
I’m starting to lose sight
And happiness is what I find

Tic Tic Toc Toc Tic Tic Toc Toc
zumee Oct 2018
A timeless river kept a clock.
tic. toc. tic. toc.
It had the nerve to wonder how
tic. toc. tic. toc.
its flow was ever interrupted
tic. toc. tic. toc.
by every pebble.
tic. toc.
by every rock.
tic. toc.
Lauren Ehrler Jun 2016
Tic toc
Tic toc
Tic toc
That irritable clock
Continues to
Tic toc
Tic toc
Tic toc
Counting down time
Til I'll be nothing but slime
The begrudging noise
Tic toc
Tic toc
Tic toc
Unless it slips away
And the memories of yesterday
Fade
And there is nothing I would trade
For the love of a moment
Where nothing is spoken
And the glimpse of peace
Is not just a tease
But then that moment is stolen
And that bit that was woven
Is unraveled and stretched til you hear
Nothing but
Tic toc
Tic toc
Tic toc
Tic toc....
myli Sep 22
tic
toc
says the clock
tic
toc
tears dripping off the clock
tic
toc
when will it stop
tic
toc
time runs dry
tic
toc
your life
will end
when the clock
says
tic
toc
Eleanor Sinclair Dec 2014
Eyes on the clock
Tick toc tick toc
Sipping a cup of coffee
Darker than the sky
Rain sliding down the windows
Pitter patter pitter patter
Watching people come in and out
Sitting at the table
"Order up!
Two Vanilla Blonde Roast Coffee's!"
Yelled a man,
But all I could hear was the music
Chiming around the room
And bouncing off the walls
Multiple conversations
I sat there
In that room
Writing stories
And Tales
Like no other had done
Such where the hero was the villain
Stories that could only be deciphered
By those who have felt the pain
Of the lonesome characters
That these stories depicted
Hannah Gaines May 2016
Tic-Toc, Tic-Toc,
The clock plays it's infernal tune,
No care whatsoever,
I wish the clock will stop.

Tic-Toc, Tic-Toc,
My stomach turned,
My heart dropped,
My eyes began to water.

I stare at the man before me,
The man who did wrong,
The man that caused me grief,
I look away, not wanting to look at him.

Tic-Toc,
I closed my eyes,
Listening to the ticking,
Wishing for it to be over
I wrote this while I was at court.
J-Long Feb 2019
Tic toc tic toc
Its time to make a heart stop
Clock at 12, noon has struck

Time to make a body drop
Outrun by the mighty father time
Crashing down from way up top

Tic toc tic toc
Its time to watch a body flop
Cause of death

Time ran out
Out of breath
Cry and shout
Old poem i wrote just as an experiment
Shammyshamsham Sep 2017
tik tok tik,
times too long
works too many
love too less.

tik tok tik,
its already two thirty
a few more hours
you'll soon be free.

tik tok tik,
Did the clock stopped ticking?
Times taking so long,
I'm stressed, bored.

Tik toc tik toc tik!!!
common hurry!
I miss my bed.

Tik toc tik,
time check its two thirty eight.
Tik toc tik,
times too long.
Mrs Anybody Nov 2020
Tic toc
it’s half past eleven
I had a dream and thought;
I am in heaven.

Tic toc
heaven turned into hell
am I still dreaming?
I can’t tell

Tic toc
it’s an hour past midnight
I am wide awake
and wrapped in by the night

Tic toc
on the clock blinks a fat two
I have only one thing on my mind;
and that is you

Tic toc
now it’s already three
a devil on my shoulder tells me to overthink
and I agree

Tic toc
it’s nearly four
I am still not tired
and think some more

Tic toc
now the clock shows five
and god, how grateful I am
to be alive

Tic toc
my windows let through, the light of dawn
but my eyes close and show me darkness,
to which I am drawn

Tic toc
my alarm rings an hour later
I am exhausted because insomnia
struck again, this traitor
also check out my other poems!  :)
Kyle May 2012
Cheeks spread
Turds dropping
Water splashing
up my crouch
Second level
Angry birds
Tic toc
Tic toc
Cheeks sore
Legs numb
15th level
Angry birds
Tic toc
Tic toc
**** inching
why
why
oh!
need to wipe
wipe
wipe
miss
**** on my hand
lick lick
clean!
light cursed falling in a singular block
her,rain-warm-naked
                                   exquisitely hashed

(little careful hunks-of-lilac laughter splashed
from the world prettily upward,mock
us….)
         and there was a clock.   tac-tic.   tac-toc.

Time and lilacs….minutes and love….do you?and
Always
            (i simply understand
the gnashing petals of *** which lock
me seriously.

                       Dumb for a while.my

god—a patter of kisses,the chewed stump

of a mouth,huge dropping of a flesh from
hinging thighs
                       ….merci….i want to die
nous sommes heureux

                                    My soul a limp lump

of lymph
               she kissed
                                and i

                                       ….chéri….nous sommes
AvA Jul 2015
A piece of wood or of modeling clay
sits carefully on top of a makeshift table.
A cheap thin plank on top of bricks .
Music plays outside the room.

Sitting with purpose and glee,
imagining a masterpiece.

“Ready it shall be
and it will bring love,
bring peace to a world that…
pierced by its mere existence,
and evil will die!”

Hands twist and turn.
A hard mass is peeled and cut.
With tools and sweat
it takes shape, with tears of joy
slipped from his eyes.
A sharp turn, the table drops.

A voice is heard behind the walls:
“My god, if this broke, I wouldn’t survive”

Thought and movement
preserved in minute details.
polished and neat
yet with enough imperfections
“I love…

TOC TOC TOC TOC TOC TOC TOC

****”

“I’ve been calling and knocking for hours
what the **** are you doing in here?”
“Art! you wouldn’t understand.”
“You are still with that ****, there’s nothing there!!”
“Because there’s nothing in your heart”
“just let me get...”

Door closes, uncontrollable heartbeat
sound blurs, eyes strain, “I know,
I know its there, I know its there
i know. it. is. there.”
Barry Stauning Jun 2016
tic-toc
tic-toc
tic-toc

the clock above the mantel
recites this steady prose

this house stands empty
outside its walls

the wailing wind
echoes through its halls

the crows, ravens, vultures
invited they all came

to pick and divide
the mosaic of this life

the walls stripped bare
the carpets rolled up

only the creaking floor  
protests this naked home

above the mantel the crier remains
reciting this steady prose

tic-toc
tic-toc
tic-toc
J Drake Nov 2013
Oh, evil clock
  you are my truest enemy;
    your twisted hands
      taunting me
      consistently.

Why do you hate me?
If only I could forget you!
  Let you go for just
    one second...
  Yet then, alas,
    oh clever foe,
  You have me again.

From your evil clutches
  there is no escape.
For even in a moment's reprieve,
  I reminiss, and
    then, suddenly,
  the moment measured,
    I lose again.

You stand proud upon the wall,
  Oh evil clock,
    And I can only pray...
The day shall come
When I have won,
  By counting, instead,
    My beating heart,
Above the sound
  Oh evil clock
    of your two slaves...
  Tic + Toc.
Liz May 2015
Cold, unforgiving.
My soul froze in time.
I gave love its last chance,
And clocks stopped.

The big hand contorted,
To mock my closing veins.
The small just pointed
And laughed in my face.

So I shattered all the timepieces,
Forbidding me to count the seconds alone.
In an hourless world,
I lost faith in hope.

The walls as my best friend.
My bed the only lover.
I'm content in waiting
For my torturous life to be over.

But you found me
Wrapped in passing seconds.
Prisoner to tic tic
Pacing in my head.

Where my skin
Tasted of decay.
And my claws retired
From scratching at the gates.

Given up on fighting,
Satisfied with thousand pound lungs.
A half timed beating,
Beneath my hollow ribs.

My souls began to thaw,
Clocks began to move.
All from your touch,
All from your air.

The big hand straightens.
And the small silences itself.
Opening my veins.
No more comically mocking my pain.

Your gentle hands piece together,
All the pieces I shattered.
Back to counting
All the seconds I'm alive.

My walls become acquaintances.
You replace my bed.
I'm not waiting,
This life won't end.

No longer bound
By the song of passing time.
Free from "tic toc",
It's a little less crowded in my head.

Warmth returns to my skin.
My hands click awake.
Not ready to scratch,
But to create.

There is no fight to give up.
Air quickly lifts my lungs.
There's a full paced beating,
Inside my glowing chest.

All because you touched me.
You kissed me.
With a calm fear,
You woke me from my sleep.
Ayeshah Nov 2015
Clocks ticking

but I didn't even notice

As I lay on my back

head hanging off the bed

I hear it

tic toc tic toc tic

I'm floating

watching myself 

 sounds weird huh

I can see everything my flesh is doing

like a movie,

yet I'm above my very being...

Numb

but I can hear it

the clocks ticking

I'm praying he'll stop

tic toc tic toc tic

Musing of someone with dissasocitive identity  disorder!

Always Me Ayeshah ™ ®
         K.A.C.L.N ©
     All right reserved ®
Copyright 1977 - Present
Mental illness is real! ****** abuse isn't cool and it ***** the life outta my me.
Why I'm no good for anyone.
Past yet emotiomal / mental scares never healed!
Lawan Sep 2014
Tic-toc

"Tic"

a second added to infinity.
it's life gifted
by the death of countless seconds-
from the first generation to now-
this captured moment

but time, like nature, is indifferent;
obedient only to the Eternal.

once it gives,
it takes

"Toc"
Time flies. Each passing second renders our daily activities meaningless. What becomes of our seemingly eternal consciousness- "eternal" because we cannot remember when we first came into existence. Yes we have photographs and documents to tell the exact second we were concieved, but none to show us when we were borne.
Is life energy? Is life made of complex chemicals? Will our conscience survive when we die? Or is it not of the earth to begin with?

Your thoughts? (Comment below if you have one
Connor Thompson Aug 2016
In a crowd she stands alone,
her beauty creeps out.
Mysterious shades of color enchain her captivating allure,
every shade more beautiful than the last.
The efflorescence of a flower fails to image her,
flawless from head to toe.
The illusion of free will quickly fades,
I cannot deny my attraction to her,
She glows.
Warming the room by her graceful movements,
clocks slow, each second delights in her every twirl.
Tick. Toc.
Her look sets me at ease.
Freeing me from my uncertainty, I now clench belief close to my heart,
summoned by a dream with every beat.
I am left in a daydream,
As, she is gone…
Mark Parker Mar 2016
Tic Toc at the midnight hour,
peddling along louder and prouder.

Clock my dear friend,
you've done it again.
Every single second I learn
that time has passed,
and you're consistent,
I hear it sixty times
within a minute.
And he continues.
Smugly taunting along
with that perfect timing
envied by all musicians.
The clock, my worst adversary.
jayellen Apr 2017
they say that writing
is a gift
and that those
who have been blessed by it
hold the world in their scathed
palms

they say that writing
is power
and that if
you can wield your pen right
you can make others feel
as you feel

and i'm afraid that that's why
i stopped

i cannot curse another
with these countless thoughts
that always tic-toc
and tic-toc

i cannot allow myself
to make another hurt
because i have felt much pain
this is no gift, my dearest,
this is a curse

i tried to stop
i try to stop
but i am afraid that
my writing is as endless
as the tic-toc of the clock
Out of deep sorrow for the loss of my muse
The machine stops to recapture its stasis
Stolen by the unrequited idea of this mirage,
The scarlet tic toc craves pristine amuse

The pump of the sweet amorous concoction
Tastes **** to the disused forlorn tongue
Maybe the machine leeks this viscous fluid
To purchase desire at the body’s auction

This nature’s request for the suitable mate
While the soul of the failure still remains,
Cranks the contraption most vital gears
As a mismatched tic toc at hearts gate

The betrayal of knowing the truth and never
Ever leaving the past wholly shatters me
The Sunlover wants to bloom when the light
Shines darker than the doubt of forever

That is the heart’s betrayal

Viewing the sunrise through my wasted eyes
unfold as the tears of my broken dreams,
I remember the beauty of my dear beloved
The ultimate ambush to my lonely skies

The hangover of rejection lingers for eternity.
The addictive touch of tenderness I want
While the robot engines cannot cope with it,
The tired heart goes for failed shot infinity

What is this web which I was woven into?
Falling for eight, then nine, bonus ten
Tic toc the clock; pump, pumped the blood
Wild need, whispers required to ensue

And whilst I dig the grave where I shall lend
Haunting me is the ever burning question
Will ever the craving for love be truly done?
Hope is said to never falter, to never end

That is the heart’s betrayal

The never ending brush of desire swirls
A portrait of novel passion; her soft
Features, angelic voice, immaculate lips
And this issue prevails with all the girls

In the mind’s museum, they become a bust
Of hard intangible romantic interests
And as a collection vice, the gallery will not
Stop letting in more miscellany of lust

Appreciating the astral beauty, bemusing  
In the details, worshipping personality,
Requiring such unity to expel the loneliness
This hearts motives forever bruising

The interest in a woman thus take shape
To form the most ethereal phantom
A ghost that results in dreams of icy mist
A myth of warmth, fleeting escape

That is the heart’s betrayal

Once betrothed to be my suitable mate,
Wishes my dream fairy granted me
Far and wide we would venture, brave souls
Only in my fantasy, this surreal bate

Thus, the later ultimatum comes unexpected
When company the moment yearns
This muse’s portrait matures into sorrow
We were genuinely never connected

The cold from this epiphany ardently churns
The blood that petrifies the machine
“She is not the right one,” an echo of misery
Even if elusive, she hurts me; it burns

Passion may come and go, a scar of flare
A tempest of feelings of the unruly kind
The spark is a mystery to solve, misguided
The hurt of a hollow kinship and despair

One day the soul its mate will find, the heart
Will have a home to call in the light
But now the frozen pump in darkness lingers
Waiting the mistake of love to depart

It all goes back to the beginning

And that is the heart’s betrayal
The last poem of my original anthology had to be its namesake. My nature was to love, get rejected, love, lose that person, love again, be rejected, and on and on in an uncontrollable and destructive cycle. It had to stop, so I had to finally understand what was happening to me and translate those impetuses into words. To do so was to acknowledge all the pain and distress of loss and rejection, and for a long time, I just could not do it. Poetry helped me open up and learn about myself. So, this was actually one of the first poems I ever wrote. The sense of cyclicity that flows through and ends the poem makes rereading the whole collection a new experience. All the pieces inside of it have something to do with how the heart, in all its emotional saliences, controls people's every thought, even when we think we are in control. We can love, hate, fear, yearn, and at the same time, not want it to happen. Nonetheless, the heart will betrayal our countenance, our adamancy, our will to resist within different degrees. So, to feature all these ideas sprinkled throughout the anthology into one poem was the best way to end it.
shooshu Dec 2015
"italicized idleness
illuminated by the
tic toc of time;
fueled fluorescent in
the blue confusion of
flickering bulbs &
clinical corridors of
filler conversation."
Ghenwa Apr 2014
let me introduce you to my dearest friends,
addiction;
sweet serenity
pain and passion
desire and love,
depression;
sadness and melancholia
nostalgia
the weight of the world bringing you down
the thoughts about yourself
anxiety;
your fast heartbeats
your breathless minutes
the time you think it's over for you
when you close your eyes
you're ready to say goodbye
the feeling of never being good enough.
i have those vices, i have those problems
end up crying in the middle of the night,
hoping no one hears a sound.
trying to make everything better by believing
it would get better
giving myself hope
when there could be none.
i have died so many times
inside of my head
i have tried too many times
to get out of my head
but it never seems to work
now let me introduce you to my worst enemy;
time.
ticking by so fast,
taking every breath of mine
ticking too slow,
when pain knocks on my door
letting the nights of happy moments pass by
and the night of suffering endless
but a second is always a second,
and a minute a minute
and time will tic-toc
tic-toc
till you run out of heartbeats,
happy or not
but it's all in your head
when you take your moments too fast and too slow,
it's all in your head when time passes by so quickly
it's all in your head when you die before you do.

but is what's in your head real?
because reality doesn't exist
and nothing else does,
everything is how we create it and see it
nothing is too real to our eyes and nothing is too surreal.

i know i think too much,
maybe it's because i think too much
that i have so many vices
and fears
but to get rid of those,
you'd have to give up thinking,
would you?
Abby Cunningham Mar 2016
I didn't know you hated me so much

I mean if you didn't hate me you would't do this to me
Smiling that way that makes my heart drop
Laughing in that way that makes my stomach knot
Talking in that way that make my heart stop

You're taking my breath away and it's getting hard to get it back
I'm wishing for your shiny glow
But the night's completely black

My vision's blurry with tears
But the problem is that they're not from sadness
I don't know what they're from
I think I'm just afraid of the unknown
Unknown are these feelings you're causing me
Unknown is the tic toc from your watch

I hadn't really noticed before
The tic toc from your watch
It's so annoying
All it does it remind me that you're next to me,
but I can't listen to you pretty voice

I get this flutter my stomach every time you say my name
It sounds so sweet coming from your lips while I look at your face
It's almost like a melody
But I get so weird when you play that note
And I'm already sick of your acapella song

If you're not gonna be mine, please stop
I really can't take this anymore
It's past midnight and all I can think about is your stupid smile
I can't sleep at all
Just leave my mind alone

Leave my heart
Leave my mind
Leave this city or just hide
I can't see your face anymore because I fall harder each time
And I can't try to make you mine
you're never gonna love me, so why waste my time?
actually isn't mine- my friend asked me to put it on here as she doesn't have an account
betterdays Mar 2014
Time rolls
its mossless stone
slowly tonight.

It is as though the
tic
has lost it's
toc.

Seconds have become
thirds, fourths, fifths.
So slowly does
the smallest hand
move upon the cracked face.

Minutes no longer tiny minute things.
But now gargantuan wedges
of pie.
So large as to feed
history's poor twice over.

Hours are unpowered,
flacid flat balloons
without breath or form
smothering all thought.

The grandfather clock
in the hallway
has embraced senility
and no longer
completes it's
pre-ordained
preambulation
around the
captured sundial.

It has now given itself
airs and graces.
Believing in heart and mind,
and cog and pendulum,
to be a jazz percussionist
banging, tapping and ringing
in an off beat tempo
somewhat lacking in
basic rhythm.

So time runs
with the scatterd
predictabality of the Tardis.

Bigger on the inside.....
Slower on the darkside
of the  grandfather clock.
Graff1980 May 2015
Enter Pygmalion
Sculptor of my flesh
Firm hands of a man
Desirous of himself
Ego outstripping
Lust driving
Hard stone chipped
The night sounding
Like an uneven clock
Tic tic tic with nary a toc
And the outer shell of my existence
Slowly fades
Chunks and
White marble dust
Removed to find my bust
My curves
My lips
My stony eyes
Fake garbs
With hard wrinkles
My shoulders sanded to perfection
Carefully crafted collarbone
Body finally fully formed
The master Artisan
Find his own enslavement
Obsession with his own creation
Thus all other loves pale in comparison
Perhaps that is the curse or fate
Of all true Artists

— The End —