A gnarled burnt blanch hand holds fast the ticking silver pocket watch
Sped hast life past as its reel flickers unwound
Led down paths not considered by a mind’s sound
Tread light not but make each footfall pound –
Spread to encompass the horizon is death and its found
Dread this and all interest in each breath is stricken and bound
Said he much both my and his own astound
A gnarled burnt blanch hand holds fast the ticking silver pocket watch
A.B. Thomas mutter fluka 
So layered with meaning…
I also nominated you for the Versatile Blogger award. You can pick up the award at the following link : http://tasithoughts.wordpress.com/2011/03/15/the-versatile-blogger-award/
With warmest regards,
JP
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thank you, and for the nomination!
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Great poem about time, deserving itself a nomination. In it I like the objectivity of the first and last lines, and all the subjective considerations in-between.
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Thank you very kindly!
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Your use of idiosyncratic word order and imagery forced me to slow down, read with greater care, and ponder true intent. Powerful device..
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Thank you and I hope that it was worth it
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I enjoyed reading this poem very much, great work 🙂
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You are very welcome!
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I love this one, well done. Love the imagery
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Glad you did – this one just slid by me in a short story I was writing in a notebook, it wasn’t until I was looking at the story that I discovered I had even written the thing!
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That’s quite superb… as usual it’s my learning time 🙂
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Heck, you’ve got your own licks, I an’t teaching anything that you could already do!
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