The Clock (A Poem)

How funny,
to race against
a stationary object,
as if time cares
about our projects
and our deadlines.
The clock ticks and tocks –
it does not see
or know
or participate
in the too-fast days
of our lives.
And really,
we build them that way,
don’t we?
We fight with the
never-ending turning of the globe,
like boxers in a celestial ring,
but the ring is empty,
save for us
and all of our to-do lists.
Wouldn’t it be nice,
then, to just stop –
not the clock,
but ourselves –
and insist on a slower pace?
And why don’t we?
I mean, seriously,
who ever made the rule
that busy is better?
I’d rather not be,
thank you.
I’m not mad, exactly,
but I do think this is bad.
See, the work will
be here.
But I won’t.

12 thoughts on “The Clock (A Poem)

  1. I like the thought of stopping a clock in order for us to stop too, Katie. You have me also wondering about the concept of busy being better. It never seems to work. An enjoyable poem leaving a lot to reflect on.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I love to hear that, and I’m so glad you liked the poem! 🙂 I certainly don’t enjoy being bored, but I really hate feeling like I don’t have time to slow down and think and just be still. It’s balance, right? Or at least, that’s what I try to create in my life.


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