Tuesday, 14 July 2009

It's About Time

...I stopped revelling in other people's words and and got down to the business of chiseling a few more of my own in the marble halls of Blogland: or impressing them on clay tablets: or painting them on papyrus: or on a cave's rock face.
When you contemplate the variety of methods humans have used, doesn't it just show how great has been Man's urge to put his thoughts down to share with others? Since the beginning of time an underlying ribbon of communication has woven its threads around the world.

And this Time thing. When did it stop being governed by internal, unconscious rhythm, and turn into the rat race of modern quicker- faster- save time mentality? But then the advantages of this speed become obvious.

Imagine a pre-historic Blogland.

Immediately the whole concept of world wide, near instantaneous communication system becomes laughable. I chisel my message, tie it to a four footed messenger, or the back of a turtle, or leg of an eagle and send it on its way...to... Otherland. There's Authorblog, off in Aussie land, for example, who wouldn't stand a kangaroo's chance in hell of ever reading my equivalent Verse and Worse sample. Doesn't bear thinking about, eh?

Awareness of Time starts to look like a necessary evil in our evolutionary march through life...Although I gave up wearing a wristwatch many moons ago, I have to admit to being a trifle obsessive about clocks. I like their tick, tock, background noise, and it took me a long while to accustom myself to the clock radio beside my bed, because of its tock-tickless state.

It was while pondering in this fashion, that I came to write the following:-

Timepieces

Clock in the hall, steady and slow,
measuring ages as they come and go.
A grandfather clocks towering height
guards the pendulum's swing, left, right.

The clock on the mantelpiece studies life,
the daily routines of husband and wife,
of children and friends who clatter around
quite unaware of its rhythmical sound.

Clock in the kitchen - almost ringing;
bubbling saucepans, kettle singing.
Everything timed, no second wasted;
plates of hot food wait to be tasted.

A travelling clock in the spare room waits
for a guest to arrive. In the hands of the fates
its destiny hangs, and the decision
of when it may once again work with precision.

So all these clocks of which I speak,
each with its character, quite unique,
throughout the house are the guardians of time,
who remind us, to waste it would be a crime!

(Then what am I doing writing this, when I should probably be doing something else?)

Late Edition P.S.

It's 7pm here now, and anybody reading thus far after this time ( or its equivalent elsewhere in the world) please do make sure you read the comment Q has left ... I think you might enjoy it as much as I did!

21 comments:

  1. aaah, each clock has it's own timetable, things to witness and see, measure... quite, quite beautiful actually!

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  2. Clock in the bedroom I hate it in the morning
    The alarm seems to be always nagging
    But I think it's a friend for keeps
    For it never fails to wake me up when I'm asleep

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  3. Love the prose plus poetry.

    I wish I have that talent.

    Instead my style seems to often have a lot rhythm and alliteration in my thoughts.

    Don't you wonder how the Great Book was preserved? Truly a Divine plan beyond my finite mind to comprehend.

    My blog friend Patricia's book is sold out on Amazon.com ! Is a book in your future?

    I intend to take my photography to a different level; taking a refresher course this week in Springfield MO. I used to do a lot of creative stuff with film cameras which has not transferred well to digital world. I own a nice digital NIKON advanced amateur model, but have not been able to transfer my knowledge.

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  4. Time is a strange thing isn't it, Jinksy. Why does it go so slowly when you are looking forward to something - and then when the event occurs it flashes past in an instant. And then there is the riddle of why the kettle takes so long to boil when you are dying for a cup of tea.

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  5. I say we yank all the hands off the clocks and proceed with our own rhythms (and rhymes). :)

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  6. Must have been a sort of Freudian slip last night when I set the alarm to 6:15 PM instead of AM...Dang, my inner clock woke me at 6:35 AM knowing something was wrong. lol

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  7. ... just in case Tommy turtle doesn't make the distance from me to you, the carefully crafted slate strapped comfortably to his shell simply says.... "Hello Ma, just a quick note to sa" and then you'll see my predicament. Ran out of slate and Tommy refused to entertain the next size up. So keep an eye out for Percy pigeon who is bearing the next part of the message which you might just get before Tommy's part one... "y hello! XXXX" - Somewhat shorter and lighter for obvious reasons!

    Come back Dennis the dinosaur is all I can say, at least you could get a decent message from A to B and in far less time!

    So, when you finally (hopefully receive the entire message, give me a ring and I'll come and pick up the carriers, I'm sure they'll be itching to check their email in the car on the way home. Mmmm, I'm not missing Dennis quite so much now! xxx

    **** No animals or humans were harmed as a result of the creation of this POST! ;) ******

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  8. I'm very impressed with your poem...
    I see the giant pendulum swinging every so slowly...and then when I see the kitchen clock, I 'hear' the frenzy of the kitchen clatter!
    Well done, jinksy.
    Time can be a friend....it's just according to which end of the 'time frame' one is on.
    Smiles,
    Jackie

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  9. Love the poem and Q sounds like quite a character. I'm assuming this is your son. Yes the poem took we through the home seeing each room and the clocks ticking away.

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  10. I am not sure where time has gone. For me there is not enough of it, at the moment.

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  11. But why does time go so fast!

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  12. You're spot on with your remarks about the time thing. And the poem is superb.

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  13. One thing you do well is make people think. We don't have one ticking clock in the house.

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  14. Wonderful 'timely' poem. It's so true that we have this desire to be heard.. all through time. I love the mention of Authorblog David in your post too. Nicely done. :)

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  15. Jinksy, wonderful poem and Q's reply isn't too far off. I mean we still have "snail mail", yes?

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  16. I, too, don't wear a watch, nor does MY WIFE. Surprisingly, we are the most on-time people we know. The folks who wear them always seem to be late. Odd, that.

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  17. Your saying “So all these clocks of which I speak, each with its character, quite unique,” made me think about all my poor silent clocks. I used to have an old friend (passed away years ago) who repaired clocks. We went to junk stores, flea markets, auctions every week-end and found broken clocks which he would repair. I have 8 clocks in the den, 7 in the parlor, 3 in the kitchen, and so on and so forth. They all chimed at different time and when my friend passed away I stopped winding them, only the electric clocks are working now. I miss the Westminster chime the most. This is a very nice poem.

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  18. It certainly would be a lot different if we relied on man alone! Lovely poem, time is indeed what makes our lives tick.

    CJ xx

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  19. Hi Jinksy,
    Hm, my musings exactly. But, with all this speed and instant messaging, it is getting so very hard to stop and reflect on what one is saying; there is so much tripe being uttered "on a daily basis" (ugghh), whether it's in the spoken word or even in blogland. It is so good to switch off and let silence prevail and just listen to the ticking of the clock. (ticking? who am I kidding)

    Thank you so much for joining my blog, it's an honour indeed.

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  20. Excellent Jinsky, I thought it was time you wrote a poem!! Sorry, couldn't resist. You can tick me off if you like. I have to hand it to you, you're some poet.

    BT
    xxx

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