Dated 1903, great grandparents
Leaving the country
One-time graziers.
Aging they moved to the coast
Lived in my house.
A mystery as inscribed on the plaque
Why were the people grateful
In presenting this to them?
A job for discovery.
Not much is known about them
They cared for a grandson
Had four daughters
No family name carried on from them.
Their grave is nearby,
A lasting monument
They must have had money.
Their daughters built houses after their deaths.
Today the clock resides in my lounge room,
Thankfully it doesn’t work.
It chimes every fifteen minutes
I recall it as a child
Chiming in the middle of the night.
But it stands as a reminder
Of family long gone
But of significance, it can’t have been cheap.
My mother had it restored,
Each evening we turned the key
Kept the pendulum swinging
The chimes chiming.
I like having it,
One day I’ll unearth its origins.
http://dversepoets.com/2014/04/08/poetics-looking-for-treasure/
Morpethroad 
smiles. love that moment of turning the key together
there was a really cool grandfather clock in my grandparents
house…we used to play at the foot of it…interesting the bit
of mystery behind this too.
It’s to be one of my retirement assignments to discover my great grandparents. Thanks Brian.
That IS a treasure with so much family history. My grandma told me lots of stories and now I wish i had written them all down for one forgets and almost everyone from those days has died….do track down that history, if you can.
Thanks Sherry I fully intend to discover what I can now I have time to do so.
Nice storytelling.
Thank you Ayala.
What a beautiful clock. I smiled when you said, “Thankfully it doesn’t work” as I do imagine it would be difficult to listen to it chime every fifteen minutes. It really would be nice to know its history though, its significance. I do hope you find out its story.
Thanks so much Mary I hope to discover its story soon.
Every time it chimes it is trying to say, “remember me!”
I understand what you mean but at 2.45 am when it chimes three times its not very welcome I can tell you. Thank you for your comment.
Oh, you’ve got to find out about it. And write another poem to let us know. I’ve lived with a chiming clock. Let me tell you, as an insomniac–it’s not fun!
Thanks Victoria, I shall in time discover more about the clock and my grandparents and yes I think another poem may well be warranted.
Beautiful clock Michael. You will indeed have to tell us all what you find out about it. I love a good mystery.
Thanks Jackie, as you know patience it will take time.
I enjoy the nostalgic feel of family stories told. And – this one has a touch of mystery that has me wondering more about the story.
Interestingly it seems every one else as well. I shall have to get moving on it.
Keep the pendulum swinging … That one line speaks volumes. I hope you can find out more about it.
Thank you for reading, time will tell…
funny how fragile and incomplete our knowledge of the past is. Good luck hunting.
Thanks Bill searches can be both fun and frustrating.
I like the mystery here… When part of the history’s unknown. and still a totally new history created. A clock chiming every 15 minutes would take some getting used to
Thanks Bjorn it certainly did.
Oh my what a treasure that is…especially the memory of winding the clock…I have one I do that with with my grandkids…love this.
Thank you Katy, I appreciate you reading and your comment.
Nice one, Michael! I enjoyed the bit of mystery around your lovely clock. One of my grand aunts had a big grandfather clock which chimed in the middle of the night. As a child it frightened me to hear the tune of Big Ben. To this day, I am not fond of chiming clocks.
I remember it drove me mad as a kid I think it may have been someone’s deliberate act to over wind it. Thanks Gabriella for your comment.
A treasure, with a mystery of history – love this piece and the stories in it. Well done!
Thank you so much Shanyns. I appreciate your encouraging comment.
Ah, family mysteries, aren’t they sometimes the most puzzling? Something chimed (excuse the pun) with your lines about their family name not being carried on. This saddens me, when names get lost. I don’t have my dad’s surname, neither does my sister – he had no sons. The end of the line…
Careful winding of clocks – oh I remember that with my first watch, is it even possible to get a solely clockwork timepiece, any more?
The clock is so impressive – I hope you do find out the origins, one day. A beautiful, mysterious heirloom indeed!
Thanks Freya it is one I hope to sort out in time. Names not carried on is what happens in families though I know of one family who thought their first child would be there only child so the family name became part of their daughters name. Two years later they had a boy.
So not just a treasure, but also an artifact with historical and mysterious connotations. I love the way your poem uncovers the Clark’s origin in patient, carefully crafted layers, almost like an archeological dig. I wish you luck in discovering the history of this treasure.
Thank you so much Barry, I. Hope to unearth more as time. Permits.
That presents an intriguing mystery, Michael. I hope you’ll write more about what you discover.
Thanks Karen I certainly hope to.