Ode to a Clock

You whine three tonight,
beneath the sun, white,
tied to it like a servile shadow.
Your hands mimic it, your numbers
outsmart it and make me wait,
like a church bell.

Won’t you set the sun tonight?
Drop your hands, drag it down,
for the light on the walls
is panting, and the sky is sweating,
and my mind rings silent,
dead as wedges and gold.
Clock, you are cruel.

The sun sits like an unnatural scab, and bleeds.
I want it to leave.
My pulse is tired and my thoughts
wail, trail, fade.
Won’t you relent?
Sever your false pendulum, let dark
stitch its peace.

I really like the second and third verses, I can't suggest anything for either of them. The first verse confuses me a bit though.

You whine three tonight,
beneath the sun, white,
tied to it like a servile shadow.
Your hands mimic it, your numbers
outsmart it and make me wait,
like a church bell.

"beneath the sun, white". What's the purpose of white here? It doesn't relate to the next line, or add anything to the line it's on. Is it saying something that I am missing?

Also you call the clock a servile shadow, but then you talk about how the "numbers outsmart it". That seems a bit contradictory, unless you've moved on and are explicitly referring to you - but I don't think so because you are talking about "it".

for the light on the walls
is panting, and the sky is sweating,

I like you description in this stanza, the last line about the clock being cruel is really good as well, it finishes the stanza well, along with the personification that it offers.

I don't quite know about Odes - aren't they supposed to be a lamentation or some sort of tribute to something? I'm not really to sure on what Ode are so as far as I can tell - from some Odes that I have read, this works really well. Do you use the classical structure? With the strophe etc?

Well anyway I think that it is a really good poem and does present a very strong picture, with lovely word choice.

Hm, I am indifferent. I can see that there is real potential for a beautiful poem here, but I'm not sure you have a grasp on what poetry sounds like, in reading some of this. Not that I am an expert in any sense, but your poem seemed a bit hit-and-miss. Some of the lines hit the nail right on the head (for instance, the image of the sweating sky, and scabby sun.) Some other lines, however (particularly lines 13 and 15) stuck out like sore thumbs.

It is not like poetry to come out directly with feelings. You should not tell a clock point blank it is cruel, and you should not say you want it to leave -- show it. Drape a bit of the beautiful language you have in the better lines over it, make it hushed and real, not loud and blatant. Leave that for fiction's worst authors.

In regards to the first stanza, I am in agreement with Mad. The word "white" needs to go -- you automatically begin searching for a rhyme scheme, when there is none. If you are dead set on using the word, try placing it elsewhere in the line, like "Beneath the white sun." Also, waiting like a church bell? What is that, I find no sense in that image. Maybe waiting for a church bell.

All but the last line of the second stanza, I found beautiful. There is much meaning in it -- the image of the clock becomes this menacing figure, in the shadow of the sun that never sets (am I interpretting this correctly?)

The final stanza is a bit spotty, I think the sporadic lengths of the lines adds to that. I would alter it like this:

The sun sits like an unnatural scab,
and bleeds. My pulse is tired and
my thoughts wail, trail, fade.
Won’t you relent?
Sever your false pendulum,
let dark stitch its peace.

I think that reads much better, but do with it what you will.

Liz, I think there is tremendous poetential here, as I have said. Your imagery is gorgeous at points, but the bad spots detract from the good. Give some consideration to fixing the aformentioned spots and I think this could turn out beautifully.