Still Life (edit)

[CRNDLSM]

What is time? 

   A river that no dam can impede;
    an ocean without shore or horizon;
    the test against which we all must stand,
    or, simply, the between of now and not? I love this line, I automatically said 'not now' at the end, because I needed the clarification through the repetition of 'now'.  It might be better left as is because 'not' being able to apply to many things forces me to stop and consider more.

Our friend?

   Telling us when our parenting begins,
        when our eggs are done;
    giving a knowing nod to those who love.
  The measure of life’s tread. Out friend? Like keeping up with the Joneses?
  A panacea. Put simply...

Our enemy?
   That holds the future hostage,
      denying the past. I like this like erasing history, burning books, enemies...
  Punishing those who grieve,
      reminding us how long love is gone.

  Caught in its riptide,
      pulled beyond shore to no horizon tthe ocean
  where all clocks stop
     with dangled puppet. Is puppet another word for the metronomic weight in grandfather clocks?
  This house we live in our ruin. Should there be a comma in here? 

What remedy? Is this referring to the panacea? If time is the friend or the enemy, I don't understand yet the need for this question.
  We catch a glimpse of time’s heel,
  measured in the pendulum’s swing. 
  A lick quick repose at each stroke
  before waking to begin again. I'd put a comma after begin

  Without motion, from here to the end seems to be the essence, 
  there is only now, no not. there it is! I love this idea
  In the pendulum’s pause

  a stillness

  coveted by the living, ii do want time to stop pushing me so hard sometimes
  only achieved by the dead.  I would like this line but I can't help but think 'having babies is not an achievement, being dead is not an achievement'. The contrast between living and dead at the end of all these questions seems like the real importance in the poem though,
Still life is a good title too because the setup is like pondering a picture of a clock.  

Im no expert in critique, try to share my thoughts as I go, hope they're of use to you.  Thanks for sharing!

or me, napping on the couch.

Time is 
 
a river that no dam can impede;
an ocean without shore or horizon;
the test against which we measure our worth,
or, simply, the between of now and not.
 
our friend.
 
The measure of our life’s tread;
telling us when our parenting begins,
when our eggs are done;
is said, to have no say on those who love.
It is the panacea.
 
the enemy.
 
That holds the future hostage,
denying the past.
Punishes those who grieve,
reminds us how long our love is gone,
plucks the flower before its due.
 
This house we live in becomes our ruin.
Caught in the riptide,
pulled from shore to horizon,
all clocks will stop.
Is there no remedy?
 
We catch a glimpse of time’s heel
measured in the swing of the pendulum.
The lick quick repose at each stroke,
before it wakes to begin again.
 
Kelvin knew the clue.
Temperature is the measure,
ironically, of molecular shiver
that ceases at the absolute of zero.
 
Without motion, 
there is only now and no not.
As at the pendulum’s repose,
or me, napping on the couch.