Magpie #5 The Art of The Dear Hand

Magpie #5 The Art of The Dear Hand

The Prosthetic Assemblers
had too many quotas to keep
after making zillions of hands
packed like a peck of pickled peppers
but for The Dear Hand
little or nothing
new under the sun
for The Dear Hand
the time draweth near
it was high noon at
the hand salon

As The Assemblers toiled
all done in fast fury
they did not notice
The Dear Hand
had gone far away
as remote as the ionosphere
as close as
the back of the shop
"So soft and so alive once"
The Dear Hand
so beautiful and sweet
like the hands that made her
so sublime at one time
until fate showed the last card

The Dear Hand
looked so punched down
pathetically ridiculous
a very sad sight to see
the malfunctioning hand
in such disarray
at odd and obtuse angles
clacking and wheezing
The Dear Hand
certainly felt
somewhat baked

a sad cry from her glory days
as from self-imposed repose
she tried to awake
her langor almost stupor
suppine attitude
melodramatic even for
The Dear Hand

her milky palms
prostrate and to the ceiling
dead as a doornail
when doornails were made of wood
while all The Crew looked quite frantic
"Where's The Dear Hand, is she lost forever?"
suddenly and triumpantly
returning scratchy sound
from the back room a small peep
"No".

As growing dust
on the shelf did make
the forgotten
The Dear Hand
could not stand it
her stand being knocked over in
many years sudden calamity
as other hands
wanted and needed more space

The Dear Hand
once thought
so aesthetically pleasing
a fine habberdashery
catching a glimpse
in the silver
better looking than
a shiny, brand-new hook
"look, see at me" said
The Dear Hand
the digits so dexterious
thin and aquiline
smooth as silk
over satin
moving up and down
a wonderful new song
with each gentle pull
of the contraption
a subtle distraction
with many clicks
quite magnificient
the moving glide
"I'm alive"
said The Dear Hand
as she spun on all three
digits
collapsing in a jumbled heap
"Say no more!"

As the gilded corded string
pulled so eloquently by
The Dear Hand's Creator
She fell in love
Hers would forever be
a wonderful new song
of Love

The Dear Hand
once the aesthetics of the day
Old Hollywood glamour she had
in spades
As The Dear Hand shook many hands
Thanking them each for being her
fan
She had Bette Davis eyes
and strong fingers to hold you
times ten their grip would
never leave you

The Dear Hand
close up and camera ready
she was more than ready
for her close up
as Ms Gloria Swanson's
ingenue and protege
waiting in the set
or the many backstage's wings
seemed like an eternity
for The Dear Hand to grasp
with
state of the art
waxen looks
she sure was something
in her day
Now The Dear Hand
was slowly fading away
without a flicker or a flame
as a hand-model to the stars
her career had limited game

Today The Dear Hand
felt so rejected
so frightfully alone
longing to be held
once more "Oh so close"
but there was no one to love
no one in town

The Assemblers
called out "The Pity Party"
knowing The Dear Hands ways
It would take an army of hands
just to find her way
back home to the shop
where she longed to belong again
fellow hands applauding
her slightest accident

The Dear Hand
silenced in a golden era
other hands tried helping
not to much avail
but to The Dear Hand's chagrin
she cried out
from the deep hollows again
again and again
her cries were unheard
The Dear Hands muffled sounds
echoing throughout
the brachish Catacombs
of the stylish back lot

For The Dear Hand
the movie set
was all she could see
as her mind played tricks
with her hand psychology
actually she resided
at the factory's
in the discard storage bin
hidden for years
The Dear Hand was
beside herself with worry
would she be discovered again
or forever gone in a flash?

Forever as Hollywood can really be
it did seem a second take
for The Dear Hand to truly know
The Searchers aimed high and low for ol' wood
where did the Dear Old Hand go?
the Dear Old Hand could not just fade away

"Quick, Issue an APB;
all points alert!"
Said The Searchers frantically
"Please give us a hand
we must find The Dear Hand"
as all hands ondeck looked high and low
sweeped the place clean trying to find
"Oh there!"
The Dear Hand soon to be embraced
for the high brow hand could be seen
inching ever so slowly from
the place in the Medical Devices Museum
As The Dear Hand
crept and creeped
out of The Cryptic Cupboard
"Hey, now are all onboard!"

The poor thing, The Dear Hand!
smelling musty, moldy and oldy
from way in the back of the wooden box
odours abounded
as others held their noses
in perpetual pain
from the olfactory from hell


The Dear Old Hands old hands
took up the cause
clapping and cheering
whooping and jeering
Please find the Dear Hand
my "missing hand"
missing in action, since?
well not so much lately
The Dear Hand
does not get around much anymore

Lost in a time warp
The Dear Hand
use to do old soft shuffle
her hand-dancing days behind her
look back no more to gay Paris
The 1880's surely gave
The Dear Hand an old whirl

The Dear Hand
soon to
meet her lot
the garbage soon to be taken
out like stinking rot
The Dear Hand moaned again
"Life is not fair!"
as flies buzzed around
her once refined and debonair

After hearing the ever so slight
distress call
The Beetles could be heard
The Dear Hand could here
Her sweet swan song
"I wanna hold your hand"
now suddenly seemed mocking
"How cruelly life taunts"
Thought The Dear Hand
and went back in her mind
to her much loved old haunts

If life were giving her
a bowl of sour cherries
The Dear Hand thought
that just maybe
she could be the ghost of
the hallowed halls
Prosthetic Services at night
She would give a big fright

However The Dear Hand too sweet
to play the villanous part
her smell of juniper and spruce
made her always appear all dolled up
she struck such a fine voguish pose
to all those who knew her
The Dear Hand never a ghost
unless friendly as Caspar
"She hadn't got the role!"

The Dear Hand's only friends now
were The Chewers
unless for the others
"Oh where were they now!"
besides The Assemblers,
The Animators and The Aestheticians
those would would so often mock
her tattered finery
once the talk of the town
"This old hand no longer makes the mark
and with so many cracks
she certainly lacks
the much needed
shock of the new"

The Dear Hand heard this
started to bawl and howl
The Purchaser exclaimed
"I can now make two hands
for the price of one"
The Dear Hand besides herself
sobbed unconsolably
the Constellations
had conspired against her
The Dear Hand
finally threw in the towel
along with her gauntlet
left on the marbled mantel

Now only the dung beetles
would sing sweet songs
The Dear Hand
grew more and more longing
tapping the beat in nervous
arrhythmia of neurotic tensions
The Dear Hand's favourite band
The Beetles!
soothingly played
made her keep sane
for yet another day

For The Dear Hand
whose love of old
meant creating
a sweet old thing world
full of silly love songs
a hurried tale like
"The Flight of the Bubblebee"
made The Dear Hand rejubuliant
with joyful glee
"The Thing" soon returned
in reruns anyway

The Dear Hand would be
crawling all over
breaking wood all over
the slippery floor
The Dear Hand
she just could not
hold her dear self up
anymore

The Dear Hand
once aspiring
the most hand fashionable
fashionistas all old hands
dispensing now with such formalalities
she took a job as a barrista
her lovely coffee so much slight of hand
her talents pure magic in the daylight
from years of pouring the morning brew
really what else she could do?

The Dear Hand had been
and did take certain advantage
in her past history
a saga unfolds
of life's many luxurious vistas
her couture attire the state of the art
by High Tock by grandfather clock
Paris London Milan Set Jetter hand
the hand of time
this hand had once held much powerful sway
from boardrooms to bedrooms along the way

a sad sorry plight for The Dear Hand
to finally find herself
alone
to see the light of day
with all it's non-glamour
"Beetles get away!"
As for The Dear Hand
the world still a fine place to be
even if there not making fine hands
anymore like they use to
The Dear Hand loved to be pampered
and pamper back so you see
she came from another time
"golden as lame"
The Dear Hand claimed

Egad! The Dear Hand
now had the dreaded blight
"Dang dung Beetles!"
for life had "done her in'
finished her "dun good"
til death do her part
"il consume est"
It was finally finished for The Dear Hand
She was far beyond repair

The Dear Hand had finally stopped
tick tock no more
"no regrets this time"
She had given her regards to Broadway
"Life is but a dream sweetheart"
that had come to an never-ending end
it was game over
the funny game had ended
the cards were on the table
The Dear Hand's number was up
The Dear Hand
seemed to extol it
and never let go

Along with the termites
The Hermitine Hand cloistered
herself away in the back
formally referred to as
"Please remember me as
The Dear Hand
not The Old Shoe who use to do
The Old Soft Shoe
and under her breath;
"That was just for awhile darhling"

The Dear Hand
no longer could sing
"Whistle While you Work" while attending
a back-scratching session in the key of H
The hand had once been keenly in command
commanding her audience
other like-handed hands
telling of her daring-do
always told them what to do
Most referred to her as "Mam Hand"
how perfectly configured
in form hand and deed
The Dear Hand had it all
or so it seemed

Could The Dear Hand
hold back the years?
and the many tears?
a floodgate of memory
waiting to break away?
no longer just The Dear Hand
to move ever more slowly
than her quick-two step
she use to do
up and down and sideways
if etiquette would allow it
Miss Manners
The Dear Hand
always was
an old hand
after all

The Dear Hand
slowly moving up and down
freely giving heavenly pleasures
to her satisfied clients
and always for free
unless some twosome were up
from the Adirondacks for cards
for the day
and then it was only for pennies
she maybe would win
putting it back in the kitty
The Dear Hand would simply
"Give it away"

She said "by giving
her love so freely
who would ever question her, really?"
For sooner or later
The Dear Hand realized
her friends soon took up the cause
always with favours returned
the next day
so as not to outweigh
the masterful works
of this happy slave
toiling in the kitchen
now the handmother
of many young hands
her friends baked a cake
with the words
"We love The Dear Hand"
and always will

The Dear Hand
could hear in the background
the clamorous sounds of her many
fingerlings
as they surrounded her with posies
held hands now until the last light of sundown
soon to fade away to black
the light dims
handing over her reigns and her reign
The Queen
The Dear Hand
had a hand in all this

Sad to say
The Dear Hand no longer could
comfort other hands as readily
as she once use to do
when they had all fallen down
like soldiers at war
though in her times of great grief
those fellow hands gave much relief
Soon The Dear Hand's mission
would soon be complete

Technology just could not bring her back
it should have seized her day
or at least make her cozy
in her cubby for until come what may
Where was her final reprieve
At least for another moment

However for The Dear Hand
came up empty
no strings with fingers attached
to remind her
of her new life
Caveat Emptus
"yet certainly"
The Dear Hand recalled
by The Maker
"All must go home"

The Dear Hand's failing memory
had triggered recalled reels
reanimation of Pinnochio
"It certainly did happen!
If only in the news"
she could just feel herself
blushing anew
with each return of spring
she always would
wear strings no matter
If that's what she had to do
to survive the years of neverever
much later alligator

Looking up at the moviescreen
a silent tear trickled down the
hand's back
The Dear Hand came magically to life
for only but a brief moment this time
The Dear Hand's time
as the termites and beetles squirmed
"How can we stop what we've done?"
felt the hand dealt to Dear Hand
her inevitable sad fate
recalcitrant and most forlornly
"what did we ate?"

As "Only the Lonely" played on
rang the automated bell from hell
bellowing through the factory's
many vacuuous and hallowed halls
as crickets continued along using
long back legs like voilin strings
stirringly eternal drone by Jiminy C.
through the night of The Dear Hand repast
The Dear Hand just knew

In her time of reprieve
some inspiration from above
The Dear Hand quoted love poems
fondly remembered by The Crew
As ferns bent over
dry sad heaves from bellow-like
from The Dear Hand's hope chest
The Dear Hand prophetically claimed;
'Love comes to those that make fine art by hand"
All broke down, heartfelt
like unstoppable
bottles of fine wine
once opened
poured out
overflowing
from high on the shelf
to the bottom of the floor
the hand could barely contain
herself

As if to suppress her friends sad lament
the Art of Life by The Dear Hand
written on cement
"Love not The Dear Hand it's life is at hand
Love the Hand that feeds you
not The Dear Hand who can longer"
settled down the to the subdued
and soft sounds of the night
sobs echoed in the corridors

So as if to leave notes behind
The Dear Hand wrote
on the Coffeetable in the Waiting Room
on the folding removable chairs in the office
behind the old fan that took The Dear Hand's Life
Waiting and forever patient The Dear Hand
seemed very contemplative
Flowing through her fingers
like a bag of sand

As The Dear Hand became a maudlin sap
the termite stopped biting The Dear Hand on tap
the tiny puller strings once fully employed
The Dear Hand started slowly to die
As The assemblers looked aghast
Did they see her ghost
or just The Dear Hand's
hand Shadows on the walls?

Forever as Hollywood can really be
it did seem a second take
for The Dear Hand to truly know
The Searchers aimed high and low for ol' wood
where did the Dear Old Hand go?
the Dear Old Hand could not just fade away

As sweet hand as dramatic as Sarah Bernhardt did moan
"I am a now a ghost once use to be alive with motionality
emotive now in her final hurrah"
the hand once the toast of the town
know as the hostest with the mostest
sadly
now just dead wood waiting for the funerary pile
all came to the hands wake
hoping to shake it back to life
as all hands onboard the casket
the duty as fellow hands to be there
for the ready
in case dear friendly hands
by magic should reanimate
the raising of dear sweet hand
now, and with bitter regret,
one hand in the grave
but who knows
with only one hand
it easier to get out

as all is finally said
so sadly said and done
the art of hand
The Dear Hand
was most certainly gone
jj 11 03 10