They just lie here
On this slanted wooden shelf,
Hands and faces fully concealed
Beneath blankets of lint and dust.
.
I can still hear them tick.
Tock.
Still following their blueprints,
As it’s the only thing they know.
.
But who can appreciate
A clock with a covered face?
Just marking time…
With no one even able to appreciate that.
.
You see, there is no purpose
To a clock that but ticks
And talks.
No – they must truly be witnessed.
.
Because beneath this coating
Brought unhurriedly into existence
By interminable, insistent indifference,
Lies the substance.
.
Even though they may appear the same,
Underneath their coat of filth
I know that each one
Is a masterpiece; unique, intricate.
.
It’s just a matter
Of brushing off the dust.
.
In the corner lies my feather duster,
Gathering dust by its lonesome.
I suppose
It’s been a while.
.
I pick it up.
Heavier than I expected.
This will take effort.
Strength.
.
Do I really want to do this?
Do I really want to care?
.
Usually I don’t.
But today…
I’m actually curious
To discover what lies beneath.
.
And so I stroke and I brush,
Doing away
With their cloying,
Claustrophobic coverings.
.
Some resist.
Some just let it go.
Eventually
I free them all.
.
Their hands and faces seem to thank me.
Each has a different time, a different size, a different style –
But all are thankful.
And all are beautiful.
.
…Yet looking at them now,
Shiny, glossy, reflective;
I find it somewhat strange
How it was in the covered clock faces
.
That I truly saw my reflection.
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This is pretty, with a rather odd theme. You used something to which most people could relate to convey a message that was very pretty, if a little sad. The line, "I find it somewhat strange ... How it was in the covered clock faces ... ... That I truly saw my reflection."
Some Nitpicks:
1. "With their CLOYING, ... Claustrophobic coverings" <= This didn't seem like the best word to me. It conveyed a pretty image, but it took me out of the poem some.
2. I usually don't like it when people use contractions in poetry. Personally, I think stuff like "It is just a matter ... Of brushing of the dust." more than 'It's' You have contractions scattered all over the place in this, and it took me out of the poem some.
Otherwise, I very much liked this, and would give it seven of ten stars.
Hi there!
Okay, I love the first part of this--up through the lines "it's just a matter/of brushing off the dust." You get very philosophical about clocks and time, and there's some nice imagery. I picture a dusty shelf in a forgotten space, maybe a basement or an attic, with cloth-covered clocks lined up on it.
I also love the end, when you return to this philosophical voice with this stanza:
(You could even say the stanza before this returns to that voice, but this one is stronger.)
Now, the middle part I'm sort of luke-warm on. Because it ends up going into 1) a slightly different voice (from philosophical to narrative) and 2) it goes into a lot more detail than we really need.
Don't take that as a horrible, soul-crushing thing. It's just something I pick up on because it almost always happens in first drafts of my poetry. Like once I had this poem that ended up being really, really long after the first draft--but then I cut out everything except the first two lines and the last two lines, and now the poem is only four lines long and yet it describes everything I was trying to get across in the middle.
And the thing is, with the middle of this poem, you go from this nice philosophy on clocks and time and yourself to narrating you dusting the clocks off. Which, yes, it happens, but it's so tangental that it detracts from the main point of the poem. Which is a bummer, because the main point of the poem is really cool. I think this whole part could be summed up in a single stanza or even one line:
That one stanza in bold, I really like that one. It might just be the use of the word "cloying;" I'm not sure. But I'd cut the rest of that middle bit and play around with that one stanza, make that the transition between the first part of the poem and the last, and go from there.
Blue
Thanks for the feedback, I see what you're saying. The whole dusting narrative is meant to give insight on how it's often difficult for people to truly care about others and to actually put effort into getting to know them, but looking back on it, I agree with you. I'll try re-writing this segment into something shorter and less narrative that will hopefully convey the same meaning.
…But looking at them now,
Shiny, glossy, reflective;
I find it somewhat strange
How it was in the covered clock faces
Looks like this stanza it needs a little revision. How it was.... in this line doesn't seem to go. Try to make each like flow well with the next. That's all I have on this. Keep it up!
I do like some of the wording in this post.
Because beneath this coating
Brought unhurriedly into existence
By interminable, insistent indifference,
Lies the substance.