I’m not a nostalgic person. but occasionally I run across an old poem that feels worth putting out there for its universality and perhaps poetic value. Here is one such:⌚️🕰⏰⏳
Everything Is A Clock ⏳
I go to the postbox; I pick up the paper,
The day-date, the week-date, the year-date my keeper:
Measure, reminder, factual, sensory –
Every day’s newspaper clocking off time;
Printed and slanted as if it were gospel:
Ads, gimmicks, comics
Betraying a parody: flawed economics
Parading and claiming as true the impossible.
Then there’s the letter
All postmarked and fettered
To all-dying time,
Post-mortem minutes the record that ‘I’m.’
If you were to measure the growth of your nail,
You would see a clock, but you’d also see jail:
The need to prove where, what and that you exist,
Underlined, undermined
Measure by measure.
Everything Is A Clock 9.6.2002/revised1.16.2004/Circling Round Aging/Birth, Death & InBetween III; Circling Round Time II; Arlene Nover Corwin
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Arlene Corwin Poetry 
Jun 18, 2019 @ 19:45:38
To all-dying time,/Post-mortem minutes the record that ‘I’m.’
Love that idea. Where did that come from??
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Dec 17, 2021 @ 11:26:26
Where ideas come from is one of the wonders of all time, the brain being a vehicle of unimaginable storage and breadth. I think my poetry must have reached 4,000 or more by thistle. Prases, a word, TV good or bad, – the sources are too many to recall or recount. Email or Facebook me anytime.We can talk about this. (I may even write a poem about your comment
I’m sorry it’s taken so much time to get back to you, this being the first time I’ve ever looked at the comments on WordPress.
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