Old Mothers Clock.

Tick tock, tick tock

the constant drum of

old mothers clock,

as morning dawns

and my sleep stops.

A yawn and a stretch,

then my old tattered frock,

A hop and a jump

and one blue sock.

There’s a tap, in the dark

then a hammer and a knock,

as I creep down the stairs,

praying it will stop.

My ears are drumming,

I fear they will pop.

I wonder for a moment,

if it’s finally a cop.

Good Morning mam,

my names Rob,

I look and stare

give a little nod.

At the kitchen door,

is the blood stained mop.

Been a call,

mutters old cop, Rob.

I half expected an angry mob,

a little concerned,

about the neighbours dog.

Dog? I laugh,

that beasts a sod.

I breath and sigh,

he don’t know about the bod.

He looks, he winks, he bids farewell,

I close the door and nudge the lock.

The house is dark,  the blood still drips,

tick tock, tick tock,

as the life drips down from

old mothers clock.

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Welcome to my blog! Here you will find different forms of creative writing, lots of swearing, erotic poetry, random thoughts, beautiful imagery, but most of all you will find a version of truth. My truth, this is the way that I see the world. However, all of my work is a form of creative writing, a combination of truth and fiction. I write to express my creativity, not my needs!

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