Zero Hour

Time is a pocket in need
of repair. I have placed
memories in it like marbles

and watched them roll away.
But perhaps, unlike time, this action
never needs to be continuous. It could

be that every day now, I will be
born again. Make over
my mind until it flits about

light as the feathers
of those chipping sparrows
strutting up the walk.

Their heads leaning over
like marionettes, bobbing
in a state of frightful wonder.

Clasping pebbles like clouds
with the triune
of their needle-pointed toes.

The mousy peep of their call
signaling something
like the will to a be born

each morning with the sun.
Leave the scuffed marbles
of memory to the ground

Author's Note

work still evolving, perhaps. not sure

Reviews

[Ern M. Yoshimoto]

the first four lines captured me and the rest of the poem did no let go. a fantastic piece of writing. there are so many ideas latent in this work, about time, memory, and our powerlessness against change. there is much to uncover in this piece, but i will stop myself... because it's christmas!

Wishing you a happy holidays! i hope you come back soon.
Ern.

[Eilis]

Thanks for stopping by today, Ern. Happy holidays to you! I hope you find a bit of peace and enjoyment in your day today. Always appreciate your visits.

[SkinlessFrank]

Keep working on this one. You have tapped into a universal sentiment, that somehow, somewhere we can leave behind everything that weighs us down and discover ourselves. Can we deal with the “frightful state of wonder” that must come with it? I think most of us can’t, and so we go on accumulating and then losing our marbles. You remind me of what a crazy hamster prison wheel we seem to be unaware of. I wonder why it is that we can’t stop the spinning. I can also read this on a more literal level. I dislike having things in my pockets, even my wallet, and so I am constantly misplacing small items. I wonder if this has a deeper significance?

[Eilis]

I haven’t looked at this one in a while. It’s good to revisit these older poems and try to remember what my inspiration was at the time. Dementia is a prominent consequence of aging in my family. Most every woman among my aging relatives has ended life not knowing those who love them. My mom is on this heartbreaking journey now and I think I was anticipating having to go through this at the time I wrote this. It was a slow process for years and has become more rapid the last year. Time is a fascinating idea to me. How malleable it can be in our minds and how it can become something new in memory. I appreciate your thoughts on this. Seems that most things are or become significant given enough time.

[kentuck14]

E,
Again a wonderful poem . . . a dazzling meditation on time and memory--- one of my favorite themes as I grow older. The use of those 'chipping sparrows' is brilliant as a symbol of never forgetting we need to live in the moment as much as we can. Thanks
T

[Eilis]

The more time I’ve elapsed, the more I feel desperate to understand it and catch some of it. Passing forty was a definite milestone that has made me view the world and time much differently.

Thank you, Tom, for your appreciation of the idea and for understanding it. Always nice to see what a poem makes you think.

[Gerald Parker]

"Time is a pocket in need of repair"

These are some of the most meaningful words ever written about our existence! If any one wanted to write about the nature of time and memory, these are the words to use. My wife has an incredible memory and can remember which dress she was wearing when we met. I can't. Some of the memories I have lost have come back secondhand.

In your poem, we/you are reborn every day, the mind has to be made over to be in an almost oxymoronic "state of frightful wonder." It is the carry-on regardless, it is the carpe diem that comes with "the will to a be born each morning with the sun." This is how the sparrows in my garden think, too.

Well worked, profound, elegant writing, in my opinion, Eilis.

[Eilis]

Thank you so much for this glowing review, Gerald. It means a lot to me.

I learn a lot from watching the birds and just sitting still to think. I hope that sometimes something meaningful comes out of that.

Thanks for sharing your own experience and for your kind words. It’s always nice to hear from you.

[Crowley]

That first stanza is very cool. The idea of starting fresh every day reminds me of folks with Alzheimer’s. Bad for loved ones, but once advanced, how bad is it for them? I know they are scared in the early stages, but I have no idea how they feel once memories are gone. Great piece here!

[Eilis]

Thanks, Crowley. Alzheimer’s is prevalent in my family, I expect I’ll have it someday. Nearly every woman in my family has had it. So, your connection is interesting. I hadn’t thought of that, but I suppose subconsciously it is there lurking.

I appreciate your interesting remarks. Nice to meet you!

[Chris Shaw]

I was unsure of your meaning here Eilis, but your lines were full of rich imagery. You gave me memories of marbles and I found myself with handfuls of coloured glass, laughing and rolling them on the floor with my brother. I could hear the click of glass as the marbles touched one another on the parquet flooring. Pockets full of memories that we can roll out as and when needed. The older I become the more precious they become. I also enjoyed your reference to the sparrows and the fact that we can make new memories each day. I always enjoy where your poetry takes me.

Chris

[Eilis]

Thank you, Chris. I am always glad to hear where my poetry takes you. It never really bothers me if people don’t see what I see in a poem, I love the idea that a poem can be many things. Like the beauty of nature, it can mean something different to all of us.

I love the memories this triggered for you. Those are wonderful ones. Thanks so much for your visit.

[emmajoy]

' Leave the scuffed marbles - of memory to the ground ' .. To each his or her own way of thinking.

Your reference to marbles... yes they come to a stop but give just one of them a finger flit and they move here and there, sometimes returning to wherever, elsewise going on a magical mystery tour. And surely that is what happens to memories, to thoughts, to inexplicable flicks of a moment in time when.. all things take flight. Perhaps.

Your words made my thoughts judder and jump as poetry can.. peace and stillness is fine and comforting but when words as in your first stanza , that pocket of whatever.. renews itself when you even lightly touch it. Perhaps..

[Eilis]

Hi, Emma. Thank you for your interesting ideas on this. Sometimes I just talk to myself like this to try and work out meanings. I really enjoy hearing how other people see in it.

I appreciate you stopping by today. Thanks again.

[emmajoy]

Your thoughts intrigued me, had to say what I thought. Some people would be aggravated by that but - to write publicly is to set off a tumble of thought, don't you think! :)

[Eilis]

I like honesty very much, Emma. I appreciate hearing what people think—it’s why I’m here—so I can learn and grow in writing. I appreciate that you really take time to read and process a poem. That is meaningful.

Thank you again

[Christoph]

I'm stuck on the first stanza.

In a good way. I mean, I keep reading it over. If I stay right there I get pulled down all kinds of paths.

Stay right there, go everywhere. There is no rule, that I'm aware of, saying my reviews have to make sense.

Reading past that bit, the message is kind of bleak but the voice is kind of okay with it, which is real as hell. I don't know if I agree with it, but I certainly feel it.

And it's just one of the multi mega myriad paths available from the start.

[Eilis]

Thanks, Christoph. No rules, nope. I think your ideas make sense, though. I feel like the crux of the poem is in that first part and maybe the rest is trying to make peace with it.

And yeah, the bleak but ok with it thing is probably something I do too often without realizing it. But, there it is.

Appreciate your ideas on this.

[Beccy]

I remember when for my ninth birthday, my grandpa took me to a musty old second hand bookshop, (now no longer there,) and allowed me to choose for myself. I chose an 1802 edition of 'lyrical Ballads.' still of course a treasured belonging, as is the memory of that day and how grown up I felt being allowed to choose.

Marbles roll, but they are not perpetually in motion, which is the quite uplifting message I get from this.

Beccy.

[Eilis]

I wish I had had a friend like the nine year old you, Beccy. I could have learned a lot from that girl. That’s such a mature choice of gift and I love that you still have it and treasure it. You must have had some wonderful adults around sharing their interests.

Thanks for your kind words on the poem. I love how you interpret the message, that’s perfect. Thank you

[Beccy]

My grandma was a poet and grandpa indulged her with many such gifts. She used to read the English romantics to me when I was very young and from that my love for poetry grew; hence my choice. I have many, many poetry books, gifted, (mostly grandma's collection which came to me,) or bought over the years; and all are treasured.

[Eilis]

That’s fantastic, what a blessing. Thank you for sharing that story with me.

[Beccy]

I have grandma's exercise books as well, where she wrote her poetry. She was due to attend Girton College, but WW2 intervened. A shame, but the war took and changed so many lives.

[Eilis]

What a wonderful moment of the time. Those books must have been a source of inspiration for you as well. But, yes, the war was a dreadful intervention.