Long Timeold Poems
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Some fellers like to sit around and sip bourbon on the rocks.
I prefer to sit around admiring my collection of old clocks.
At last count I reckon they number about seventy-five or so.
Much to my spouse's chagrin the number continues to grow!
I just can't pass up a bargain at the local antique store.
I suppose I'm like that old horse heading for the barn door.
When I spot a lonely beauty displayed there by its self,
I feel sorry for it and take it home to display upon my shelf!
My lair looks like a museum with clocks of every pedigree.
There are wall, mantel and cuckoo clocks staring back at me!
There's a grandfather clock standing against the far wall.
Made of solid oak and rising nearly seven feet tall!
Nigh on forty years ago my interest in old clocks began.
Some are from Germany, England and a few from Japan.
Do they all chime and clang at once you may rightly ask?
No - to keep them all wound would be an onerous task!
The chimes, bongs and cuckoos the old clocks emit,
Could drive one insane I would readily admit!
'Twould be lonely around here, tho', sans those friendly faces,
And their graceful, sweeping hands and elegant wooden cases!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
An old pal of mine standing nigh seven feet tall,
Basks in regal splendor against the wall.
He's well over one hundred and fifty years old.
Could he speak, Oh! The tales to be told!
That old friend that in my home doth dwell,
Is a stately grandfather clock with open well.
Made when craftsmen took pride in their guild,
'Twas crafted from sturdy German oak to build.
The hours are tolled with sonorous tone.
He's seen so many events now bygone.
Holidays, births, deaths, family mirth,
And even several wars upon this earth!
Every so often I oil his wheels and gears.
After all, he's getting along in years!
I need my old friend for succor and ease.
For that reason him I shall ever appease!
He's seen the birth of a new millennium,
And with each arc of his ponderous pendulum,
Is a reminder never to squander time away,
But to live a productive life each passing day!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
We have an assortment of clocks collected over the years.
Some chime melodically, others are odious to the ears!
Some rest on mantels, others hang upon the walls,
Each emitting their dings, bongs or ear-splitting squalls!
One squawks John Deere tractor motor sounds every hour.
To expunge that raucous din, I removed its AA battery power!
I must admit, I've always been an avid John Deere aficionado,
But the noise was noxious to my ears - 'tis now incommunicado!
I'd like to chat with the feller who invented the cuckoo clock.
Why couldn't he have used a dove's soothing coo to mock!
Above my desk hangs another curious horological wonder.
It plays the Air Force Song on the hour, rending peace asunder!
The old grandfather clock utters a pleasant, mellow gong.
'Tis pleasing to the ear - he's my pal - he can do no wrong!
In contrast, the banjo clock emits a delicate twangy sound,
That is, if I can remember to keep it tightly wound!
Another clock strikes the hour and birds begin to chirp.
'Twas relegated to the garage, since my serenity it did usurp!
Most of my clocks are old friends, 'cept one among the number;
'Tis that doggone alarm clock, that awakes me from my slumber!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)