|
All the Clocks in My House Are Set to Different Times
by Bruce W Niedt
All the clocks in my house
are set to different times.
Call it laziness,
unsynchronous attitude,
but it's only a difference of minutes
from room to room,
as though each part of the house
has its own mini-timezone.
If I go to the kitchen for something
then forget what is was when I get there,
the microwave clock above the stove,
authoritative digital blue,
is two minutes ahead of the anniversary clock
twiddling pawnbroker balls in the living room.
So I can return there
and retrieve the thought of two minutes ago,
then go back to the kitchen for my cup of tea.
Or, when looking forward to a movie on TV,
I skip three minutes of anticipation
and bask in the glow of the VCR timer,
telling me its time for the show
during the overture of commercials.
My alarm clock in the bedroom is five minutes fast --
this is deliberate,
so I can rush to work as though I'm late,
when in reality I'm right on time.
The schoolhous pendulum clock in the den
is broken
When I write there,
time literally stands still.
This may all seem confusing to you
for instance, the sun that cuts
a yellow swath through the dining room window
is that the sunbeam of three minutes ago?
Or shouldn't it happen for another two?
When I pass from chamber to chamber
seeming by minutes to age and un-age,
wouldn't this affect my next birthday somehow?
They say there's a new watch
that sets itself by satellite.
This is good, if it comforts one to know
when the big-daddy gizmo in Greenwich
second-sweeps the hour, figuratively at least,
then by God, your watch does too.
But all the mystique is lost,
there's no guesswork.
No one with a timepiece like that
can say, "it's about eight-thirty."
I like the imperfections, the slip of gears,
the ticking away, the science of estimation,
the unsettling feeling
of being off-balance with time,
even though sometimes it feels
like coming downstairs and taking
that extra step that isn't there.
I like how "now" is defined
by whatever room I happen to be in at the time.
[First published in The Fairfield Review, Winter 2003.]
11/03/2001 Posted on 11/03/2001
Copyright © 2025 Bruce W Niedt
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Member not found on 10/07/02 at 07:31 PM This has to be one of those Universal truths about modern life. I'm looking right now at 3 different clocks all set differently :-D Very well told. |
| Posted by Charles E Minshall on 04/02/03 at 05:44 AM Tock about being ticked. Great timepiece...Charlie |
| Posted by Agnes Eva on 04/02/03 at 07:38 AM heh, who's house doesn't have this. we're all so hounded by "time's winged chariot" that we pretend to adjust it to our advantage. -Agnes Eva (whose kitchen is 10 minutes in the future ;) |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 04/02/03 at 05:55 PM I recall reading this one a long long time ago Bruce, I guess before the data loss of May 2002 or the great PPS crash of 2001. In any case, great poem, full of humor, wit...intelligence. I set my alarm clock a half hour ahead on purpose. I hate having to get up right away out of a dead sleep, so that way when the alarm first goes off, I know I still have a half hour of sleep utilizing a second alarm on the clock, then comes the snooze button. Congrats on finally making it to the Spotlight...well deserved! |
| Posted by Charles J Hannan on 04/10/03 at 07:19 PM hehe...I left half of my clocks to fend for themselves..lol! great poem, Bruce! |
| Posted by Jolie Jordan on 04/19/03 at 11:02 PM I shall look at clocks in a different way from this point forward. -smiles- |
| Posted by Ginette T Belle on 04/22/03 at 04:45 PM this is a pleasurable read...it's brilliant actually |
| Posted by Rusty C Arquette on 04/23/03 at 11:21 AM Excellent - I too have two dozen antique and modern clocks counting away and it is wonderful to have them all different..keeps a person grounded! - RCat |
| Posted by J. P. Davies on 02/24/04 at 09:28 AM "like coming downstairs and taking
that extra step that isn't there." I try to take the extra step while going up stairs...This poem is one of my favs from "A Slip Of The Gears"
|
| Posted by Susan Q Tomas on 04/25/04 at 07:03 PM At first I thought of a character in a Woody Allen movie who prefers non-electric typewriters over computers. But I think what your poem conveys is much deeper - the liquidity of time. And that "coming downstairs and taking that extra step that isn't there.", is a very clever line. I think I know exactly what you mean, but it would take me a paragraph to convey it. |
| Posted by Maria Terezia Ferencz on 02/05/05 at 01:32 AM Interesting concept. I wonder if we could do this with calendars as well? :) |
|
