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Aug. 28th, 2018 @ 08:48 pm Poem - Chimed Thrice
Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative
Tags: ,
The poem “Chimed Thrice” was one of those storied poems that wrote itself once I settled the larger theme.


Chimed Thrice

One day the clock chimed thrice
a dirge that none could hear
except this soul condemned at last
found guilty by the turn of time
reverberating through the years
until I laid down my frame
a story writ by old Kronos
repeated freshly for travelers.

The first peal hung in the air
when three decades had expired
decisions made in the past
presented bills to be paid
the childhood was then forfeit
replaced with karma’s reckoning
a harvest of wheat and chaff
asking only what was due.

The second toll was at the hill
with the path fully viewed
twisting downward around a curve
the plunge of life now assured
the droop and roll settled in
gravity confirming extra pounds
as the frame embraced the fall
one way journey of decline.

The last sound came with a sigh
absent clangs of vigor's stride
no longer will the bodies press
as dust collects in nether realms
the gulfs filled the space
between the bodies still present
forever far without recourse
to the memories of intercourse.

Now I lay here in the grave
bereft of reasons left to live
all these stolen by the gongs
and the turning of the years
the magic was shown the door
while the dour become the norm
echoes sounding on the breeze
as the bells ring in twilight’s realm.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180828.
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