5 of 5
Turn Over
Every time I turn over
midnight or noon
the clock turns too
My thumbnails ping pong
the night and daylight
pivoting my head ’round
with each bounce of hours
Every time I turn over
noon, it’s midnight
Midnight, you’re Gulliver
washed ashore — shipwrecked
Glance, it’s 12:11 early morn’
thumbnail twitch it’s 12:13 PM
Every time I turn over
tiny people tie me down
then ping pong release me
Until midnight shines
the fires burning all away
in the little people’s eyes
I make water saving lives
They see only the floods
letting noon blind midnight
pivoting me ’round their favor
Every time I turn over
Pole Vaulting on the Sun 
This Is massive, a towering poem
LikeLike
what fun relation you have with the clock,
time does play games with us.
smart words, Happy Rally.
LikeLike
Interesting to read where your Muse got to. Pleasant read.
Cheers!
LikeLike
It’s a little sad but I could feel the flow of the poem like a clock ticking away – tick tock tick tock and something happens in a routine fashion.
Brilliant work!
LikeLike
love those powerful words and well-written imagery, especially in the first stanza
LikeLike
Lovely poem … I can’t understand it all, but I loved reading it.
LikeLike
Thank you. I think that’s the most important aspect, anyway, enjoyment.
LikeLike
Wonderfully written work! Somehow, time is not always our friend.
LikeLike
I agree. It’s more an enemy with benefits. Thank you for reading my poem, and for the comment.
LikeLike
excellent…
LikeLike
Lovely imagery !!!
LikeLike
Thank you, Speck of Green. I’m glad you saw it.
LikeLike