The Deadline


The Deadline

By Tony DeLorger © 2011

That incessant clock is tick, tick tocking,

the sound of it the sound of mocking.

My fingers blurred my typing at speed,

my article undone the end not seen.

The pressure builds my heart instills,

my deadline the source of all my ills.

My mind a rattle of words contained,

spewed out in abstract places gained.

A jigsaw placement of meaning met,

I stumble, I hesitate, my thoughts regress.

Confusion reigns my heart explodes,

A stroke, aneurism, an attack erode.

I’ve done this once, I’ve done this twice,

why can’t I be calm and mellow thrice.

I edit lines, punctuate and in the end mediate,

to put this wretched piece to bed,

to remove it from my aching head.

Oh my God, it’s ten o’clock,

my conclusions unreached let alone locked.

I cannot take this pressured bed,

on which I lay and of which I’ve said.

I hate Fridays.

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Comments 2 comments

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Tony DeLorger 5 years ago from Adelaide, South Australia Author

My pleasure, sensiva

sensiva profile image

sensiva 5 years ago

Thanks - I enjoyed that !

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