Past these fields of yellows and greens
hearty, humid perfume percolates
Streams, like time, intermittently appear
to show destinations to and fro
Movements in time, familiar yet hazy
change through a celestial lens
A longing as far as the lifeblood flows
remains slightly out of my heart’s grasp
Existence moves my leaden feet
to a place of separation anxiety
Specters of history dance in the distance
often calling my name
Eager to capture its true meaning
I wonder if I’m the hunter or the haunted
© 2013 by Corvidae in the Fields, all rights reserved
I know this is fairly rough on the eyes and without much in the way of rules, but the importance isn’t for the public. It does give a decent window into what I hear in my head at times though. The meaning is very personal to me, and encapsulated my thoughts last night at dinner. Mind you, this was at a Wendy’s next to a young redneck with a torn muscle shirt and a trucker’s hat.
Sunday was full of driving and reading, as Saturday was full of heavy lifting and grunt work. The labor was fruitful in a sense, as I’m now in possession of two family heirlooms. Both of them need maintenance, but I know it’s nothing out of my capacity. A winged table will need to be reassembled and refinished while a grandmother clock needs a call to an horologist (I like the French term better, pendulier). I believe the clockworks are in need of some fine tuning.
I like the word “pendulier” too. To be honest, I’d never run into it before. We’re short on clocks. I haven’t worn a watch for the last 30 years or so. I kept looking at the time, wasting it and spilling my drink.
That’s always a disappointment, especially if it was a good gin and tonic or Manhattan. I, too, have stopped wearing a wristwatch. The turning point was seven years ago when someone stole my Citizen I used for formal occasions. It was my cell phone from then on.
Beautiful words and sentiment. I keep scrolling back up to reread your poem, just so that the meaning sinks in a little more. Call me ignorant, but what’s the difference between a grandmother and a grandfather clock? My grandparents had a ‘grandfather’ in the hallway that used to chime all night when I was small. It drove me insane, as my bedroom at their house was right behind it. They are beautiful creations though, particularly if they’re family heirlooms. Sadly for me, all of our family heirlooms (including the grandfather clock) were sold on e-bay by my grandfather’s second wife’s children. My father and uncle are still understandably raw about it. Horrible. Possessions are worth so much more than the highest auction bid. Anyway, I am so glad that you have a couple to restore to their former glory 🙂 Great post!
I’m sorry to hear of their callousness. At the very least, they should have sold or traded those possessions within the family. The same grandfather that made the heirlooms mentioned in the post had a lot of souvenirs from his work in Europe during World War II. They’ve since been scattered among the children and I fear most of them are lost forever, too.
The lines between grandmother and grandfather clock blur, especially with centuries of pendulier interpretation, but the basics are:
1) Slim, long case
2) More petite than a grandfather clock
2) Often spring driven, but sometimes can be weight
3) Roughly 6’3″ tall (approx. 191cm) or shorter
4) Often has a dome face, but may have a smaller square dial instead
From my research, there aren’t any hard and fast rules and it often depends on the best-supported opinion.
Really interesting facts! My grandparents’ one was definitely a grandfather. It had a rather large square face. Haha… I guess the definition between the two makes perfect sense, in terms of ‘gender characteristics’! Thanks for your kind words re the family heirlooms. I definitely agree that sale within the family would’ve eased the blow somewhat. It’s all done and dusted now though. That’s what happens when your grandfather marries a woman purely because she makes ‘scrumptious mince pies’ 😉
That’s a beautiful poem. Thank you for sharing it here.
My pleasure, thank you for your support!
How can your brain mull over those thoughts inside a Wendy’s? Did you have that new pretzel bacon cheeseburger they advertise? Maybe it induced (biggie sized) your poetry skills. Pendulier is good, but percolates is even more fun to say, even if it reminds me of that coffee commercial. Doo doo doo… Hey, now that you have heirlooms, you will have to figure out to whom you will pass them on when you get old and doddering.
My mind often creates work space for reflection. I’ve been doing it ever since i was little. I didn’t realize Wendy’s sold such an item, until after I ordered. I was standing right next to the cardboard cutout, too. Instead, I had a double hot and juicy which sounds very dirty.
If anyone has seen the Maxwell House commercial, they’ll never forget the jingle. That’s effective advertising for you.
Yeah, about handing down those heirlooms… 😐
Yes, Maxwell House! I’ve never had it. And I drink 4+ cups of coffee per day! Freshly ground. Obviously your next post should be called “double hot and juicy.” I’ve never eaten beef at Wendy’s; just chicken. Now look at Charlie Chaplin and Tony Randall; they knocked folks up in the winter of their discontent–or whatever you call the coot years. And so many of us have daddy issues, it’s probably best that you wait until you are full on grey to get started, so you get your selfishness out. Plus, I bet you’d come up w/ some creative names.
I’ve had a Keurig for a few years now, and have been brand loyal ever since. Green Mountain coffee has treated very well, and I drink 4+ cups of coffee per day myself.
The hunter or the hunted…….right now I know exactly what that means. It’s hard to feel like I need to be somewhere else, but I cannot get myself there.
I hope you’ll post pictures of the new antiques. (Ha. New antiques.) My family has a borderline-scary attraction to furniture and clocks.
I threw a change up to the audience. “Haunted” isn’t a typo, as sometimes I really feel haunted by my past experiences. However, I do like it when people take away their own interpretations. Even though it’s a personal piece, that doesn’t mean others can’t personalize it themselves. Flexibility. Latitude. Versatile.
I’ve got a few pictures from Saturday I can post in a while. They’re on my computer at home.
you had me at: Wendy’s next to a young redneck with a torn muscle shirt and a trucker’s hat. Now I want to know how he/she (you never know and should not judge) is passing time
I’m not so curious. He was an ass. Whenever someone eyeballs me, and acts like an alpha fail, they can go far, far away and leave me in peace. I thought the situation had a real Bill Hicks vibe to it. That amused me.
[…] Aside from it being my creative station on Sunday, places like Wendy’s are where I often write. Restaurants, bars, and other common locations get the honor of being my work space. I find these as good a place as any, and don’t seem to do very well at home. I often want to get out of the house, unless I’m renovating the place. I can’t very well create a Virtual Private Network and renovate remotely. […]