A broken clock

A Lost essence,

a whist soul,

Ceased in the broken clock,

Lost in the metallic hands,

Of hours, minutes and seconds.

Moments slowly faded,

Memories gradually vanished,

tick by tick,

With quaint strings of click,

And  finally the time stood still.

With no ticking, only silence,

Like stuck in the cable of the fence.

This dread stillness in the clock,

Being broken and stopped,

Along with rusty numbers,

And a blocked pendulum,

Ceased in the middle,

Of solving life’s riddle.

This time is left untold,

No matter how much to hold.

Will this clock start,

To save those moments

From drifting apart.

To create more memories,

As an asset in life’s depository.

Will this clock click again,

To make the mundane melt away,

Into the symphony of bliss in the sky.


Via daily prompt: One way



11 Replies to “A broken clock”

  1. Very nice poem. With beautiful resemblance with clock pendulum. I totally agree that our life is like clock pendulum. And some time it stops, we surely think about it. We want that it may start again. But some time it happens and some it not. That is also life.

    Liked by 1 person

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