Playing with words phonaesethsia and onomatopoeia for poetic effect.
With voracious, vim and vigour
the first glimmer of morning light
met the glint of the glass on my bedside table,
glowing with a glowering
at the first hint of sun rise.
Excitedly the eager rays of dawn
exploded into existence,
bouncing off of the bawdy
bespoke beige and blue wallpaper,
vivaciously and violently veering into view.
From the kitchen I could hear clockwork cry
clamouring to be heard, the sound
clawing against the closed door
clearing room for its release.
Stomping down stairs,
I set about stopping the satanic, subterranean racket,
stamping and tramping the hands
until the sun silently surrendered and rose to the day;
no amount of harming this clock
would send me back to sleep now.