Editor Christopher Writes – #PoemADayForAYear: 24/02/15

I think for now normality shall resume to this blog. When I started this at the beginning of the year, I was not working, as some of you may know. I was suffering with depressions and was using this blog as a sort of therapy, and writing the poems because, well, I like to write stuff. But because I was sat around all day, depressed and in my pants, I had a lot of time on my hands. Time to have thoughts. time to write a half-decent poem, time for my pants to apparently get holes in them, though I have yet to see evidence of this. I had time. Not time I always used wisely. In that time I grew my hair. Now I have a pony-tail. This has not been a productive use of time. All this is a little ramble before I get round to talking about what I really want to talk about.

The last few days have been incredibly busy. Friday, as you know, saw us going over to Firswood for Mic Bytes with the wonderful Chris Jam. Saturday we were at our favourite venue Bar Ten for The Method, easily the best band we’ve seen for quite a long time!

Then last night, Monday, we were at Verbose, a wonderful night of spoken wordliness, some of which were accompanied by fantastic cartoons. (I started writing this at 10am and now it is midnight. There will be a proper write up of this night tomorrow, I promise. Things have been hectic! We had Do The Write Thing tonight as well straight after work and then had to eat and unwind after everything. Check back tomorrow for a fuller review of Verbose. For now though, let’s say it was brilliant and well worth getting along to when you can.)

Anyway, here is a poem.

Horology.

Syllables move

at a steady pace,

even rhythm.

Ticking, tocking,

dripping over

sentences as

mechanical

whirs in a wide

open room filled

with velvet.

Black and white tiles

reverberate

the clicks of cogs,

the creaking of

metal as the

pendulum swings.

Time measured by

knowledge, craft, love.

Chronometry.

I asked a young man the

time in town yesterday. The dull

thuds of happy hardcore base

from fruity buds drowned out

my question. I motioned towards

the silent watch on my wrist.

He produced a glaring screen from his pocket,

held it up to my face and pointed to the time,

displayed in full HD liquid display.

Characterless digits

told me I was late for my meeting.

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