The Hands That Know

Maybe time is not on our side?

I

The new rain washes the cobble stones.
Light from a window on a traffic cone.
Gurgles, gargles, grumbles and garbles,
Discover courage and search for marbles.
Running dry and cold to men,
Burning damp for warmth again.
Late night bars, hired cars, to the street,
A panning siren and a sound so sweet.
With a passing, under and out to home,
A bed for sleep and a refusing groan.

II

Should I stop, observe through a gate?
No! rush, rush, rush, I am late.
Observe what?
Late for what?
Observe the coming and the going of the day.
Late for the coming and the going of the day.
Awake now. what?
The dream is gone but the fear remains,
And I can’t help ask; is this hall the same?
The same as what?
The same as every hall.
Give me open air and market stalls.
Let me pass by the gate
To enjoy footpath tables and dinner plates.

III

Dirty knees for the winner,
The clock strikes six for dinner.
A minute, chiming for reflection,
Ringing in the news, for direction.
Scurrying cats too are late
For heat from under and through the grate.
Ticking stops as time is stilled
For a world that died, but was not killed.
Born again. “but when? but when?”
After bed for dirty knees again.

IV

We pray, one and all,
To stop the hands.
To change their ticks
And mend their tocks.
Bring back bells and beds and dirty knees,
Gates and dreamfear and dinner plates,
Gurgles and garbles and groans.
Alas, all that’s left, the hands that know.
The knowing, o the knowing,
Which we may never know.
Our days eroded by endless cycles
Until the final ticks and final tocks.
Curse these hands.
Damn these hands that know.
Their hands have stopped, but ours have not
Tick tock, tick -

Author's Note

Think of it what you will..... then tell me 'bout it please.

Reviews

[Mother Maggie]

Tick tock tick tock...time, the whip invented by the task masters, the slave drivers, to drive the human race ever faster into oblivion. No matter how early you get there...you're always late and only the rich can afford to be fashonably so.

Great poem...I also find myself chained and frustrated by schedules and deadlines

Namaste and Blesses Be

[Mark]

The knowledge that time is indeed not of our side, at least is something in our favor. It is those who are unaware that have the most to lose. I enjoy the rhythm of this piece, as it almost speaks " tick-tock" by virtue of it's meter. A nicely told story of the discovery that time is definitely not on our side .

[LJW]

I am not a huge fan of rhyme. Personal preference I suppose but I also find most rhyme schemes to sound forced or trite.

That being said, there is nothing trite or forced about this piece.
A meaning with a message or a message with a meaning? Much like I interpret your poem....duality, point of view/pointless view. Be purposeful and rush/stop and smell the roses, don't pray cleanknees/pray dirtyknees,tick or tock.

The ultimate conundrum being:

Why?

Perhaps a lesser underlying yet still as nagging concern:

Am I doing "it" right? And if I am, when is it going to feel as if I am? And conversely, if I am feeling as if I am doing "it" right, what if I'm wrong? Self sabotaging your own all rightness with:

LIFE


(my interpretation of this excellent poem)

[CharlyeMonroe]

I really enjoyed the rhyme scheme and the breaks. I'm particular about such thing but I was really into I the narrative of this piece