Time (edit .001 - Leanne, Billy)

[Erthona]

 

Time and Ode to Entropy  (edit 0.002 Leah S, updated but still in progress) 

 
I regret that I have but one life,
not to give… but to live!
Here I find that before I have fully entered
I am walking out the door,
in the midst of walking forward
I find I’ve turned about;
like a match, before it's fully lit,
I find that I'm snuffed out.

It is true I’ll admit,
I have been at times
a spendthrift of minutes,
a wastrel of hours,
a squanderer of days,
as I idled in a diffidently
hesitating, halcyon haze.

At times too,
I have been a hoarder of time,
a miser of the fleeting moment,
a collector of the clicks of Chronos’
heels as he strides across the
titanic gulf, over the starry field.
Still, time is not a set of baseball cards.

There is no coin with which
time can be bought,
to then be categorized,
and put neatly in its place,
in a book of like minded cards.

There are none like minded,
time does not mind, but instead
expects to be minded.
Time is often sought,
but rarely found.

One might just as easily
walk down a sidewalk
and find it lying on the ground

A pack of knaves, a house of cards,
a ring around the rosy?
It matters not for in the end
we all fall down humpty dumpty:
broken, fragmented,
a shell of our former self,
never to rise again.

Time cares not, it makes no amends,
it is the unglue that permeates
throughout the universe.

Time wishes not to create:
but only to unmake.

The un-maker procreator
of timeless destruction;
the succubus of life.
Sucking the life out of energy,
and the energy out of life.
It is true, wise men have found,
that even when sated,
time con-tin-u-e-s

to

   wind

          ...down.


______________________________________
(edit .001 - Leanne, Billy)

I regret that I have but one life,
not to give… but to live!
Here I find that before I have fully entered
I am walking out the door,
in the midst of walking forward
I find I’ve turned about;
like a match, before it's fully lit,
I find that I'm snuffed out.

It is true I’ll admit,
I have been at times
a spendthrift of minutes,
a wastrel of hours,
a squanderer of days,
as I idled in a diffidently
hesitating, halcyon haze.

At times too,
I have been a hoarder of time,
a miser of the fleeting moment,
a collector of the clicks of Chronos’
heels as he strides across the
titanic gulf, over the starry field.
Still, time is not a set of baseball cards.

There is no coin with which
time can be bought,
to then be categorized,
and put neatly in its place,
in a book of like minded cards.

There are none like minded,
time does not mind, but instead
expects to be minded.
Time is often sought,
but rarely found.

One might just as easily
walk down a sidewalk
and find it lying on the ground

A pack of knaves, a house of cards,
a ring around the rosy?
It matters not for in the end
we all fall down humpty dumpty:
broken, fragmented,
a shell of our former self,
never to rise again.

Time cares not, it makes no amends,
it is the unglue that throughout
the universe permeates.
Time wishes not to create:
but only to unmake.

The un-maker procreator
of timeless destruction;
the succubus of life.
Sucking the life out of energy,
and the energy out of life.
It is true, wise men have found,
that even when sated,
time con-tin-u-e-s

to

   wind

          ...down.


–Erthona


original
 
 
©2013-2015

[rayheinrich]

There's a disturbance here and I (simplistically as is my want) feel it's coming
from the dark side. Poetry slants this way -- out of habit? -- and is the richer for it.
But, as Obi-Wan Kenobi and Arthur Lipsett are my witnesses, it starves for balance.

There are 14 to 19 platitudes by my approximate count. But if you struck them out it would
be like taking the ornaments off a xmas tree: There'd be a tree. Walk out into the street
and shout "tree!". What's more to say?

And et cetera: The first two lines are too cute and the last five lines are drama queens.
Intellectual reminisce is betrayed by such.


Hear my prayer, O LORD, give ear to my supplications: in thy faithfulness answer me, and in
thy righteousness. And enter not into judgment with thy servant: for in thy sight shall no
man living be justified. For the enemy hath persecuted my soul; he hath smitten my life down
to the ground; he hath made me to dwell in darkness, as those that have been long dead.
Therefore is my spirit overwhelmed within me; my heart within me is desolate. I remember the
days of old; I meditate on all thy works; I muse on the work of thy hands. I stretch forth my
hands unto thee: my soul thirsteth after thee, as a thirsty land.
- Psalm 143:1-6 (a Psalm of David)

[Erthona]

Ray, what can I say,

I was raised a Southern Baptist and despite my best efforts to eradicate it, it still seeps through on occasion.
Still, I think that ingrained knowledge can be useful, especially in terms of rhythm and tone

"The first two lines are too cute and the last five lines are drama queens.
Intellectual reminisce is betrayed by such."

I agree, but since I knew that when I wrote it...that is to say it was done purposefully. I would have to say it is the last lines (I don't know what you are counting as lines) that are too cute - and it does make me cringe. Still, a similar thing was suggested by Billy, so I thought I would give it a try. I just realized I ought to put "Billy" in the title. I do believe a poem should stand on it's own and not have to resort to tricks, but we shall see.

As you seem to reflect back my own thoughts to me I can only believe we were separated at birth as we are brother's in cynic-schism

Thanks for the critique, I will keep these things in mind.

Dale

[Leah S.]

I'm nitpicking now:
"Chronos
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Not to be confused with Cronus, the Titan father of Zeus."
Later on it does say that the confusion between the two resulted in Plutarch identifying them as the same.
I like the line "the click of Cronus' heels" very much, but not so much,
"a spendthrift of minutes,
a wastrel of hours,
a squanderer of days,
as I idled in a diffidently
hesitating, halcyon haze."
I find myself falling into a word-induced carb coma.

"and put neatly in it’s place," Not it's: its!

"throughout
the universe permeates." 'Woop! woop! woop! Inversion Alert!

As far as:
"time con-tin-u-e-s

to

wind

...down."

May I suggest the following:
"time con-tin-u-e-s


--to --

wind --

-- down."

Carry on. Leah

[Erthona]

Leah, thanks for the errors, I'll correct them. Yeah, its and it's sometime slips by me sometimes, although I am having difficulty find the "it's" you are talking about - aha found and corrected, same with Chronos. Both good catches, thanks again.

"the universe permeates" is an inversion. Yes and corrected. Thanks again.

"it is the unglue that permeates throughout the universe"

I appreciate the effort but the "wind down" suggestion I think I will pass on

Thanks again,

Dale

[Leah S.]

Leah, thanks for the errors, I'll correct them. Yeah, its and it's sometime slips by me sometimes, although I am having difficulty find the "it's" you are talking about - aha found and corrected, same with Chronos. Both good catches, thanks again.

"the universe permeates" is an inversion. Yes and corrected. Thanks again.

"it is the unglue that permeates throughout the universe"

I appreciate the effort but the "wind down" suggestion I think I will pass on

Thanks again,

Dale

Dale, not to worry, I have a thing for dashes over dots -----

[Erthona]

Ah, you've caught me, I am definitely a • guy

dale

[rayheinrich]

Ray, what can I say,

I was raised a Southern Baptist and despite my best efforts to eradicate it,
it still seeps through on occasion. Still, I think that ingrained knowledge
can be useful, especially in terms of rhythm and tone.

Being raised a Southern Baptist is a unique experience at which I can only
hope to marvel. While never having had this opportunity, I can at least make
claim to having been raised between, among, and amongst them. I have only to
reach my final destiny (which I was assured was hell) to make my experience complete.  

...  The first two lines are too cute and the last five lines are drama queens.
Intellectual reminisce is betrayed by such. ...

I agree, but since I knew that when I wrote it...that is to say it was done
purposefully. I would have to say it is the last lines (I don't know what you
are counting as lines) that are too cute - and it does make me cringe. Still,
a similar thing was suggested by Billy, so I thought I would give it a try.
I just realized I ought to put "Billy" in the title.

Since the invocation of intent is unassailable (and the fact of Billy's
involvement makes it doubly so), I must genuflect to your antecedence
as well as any of your various body parts that find themselves hanging over
the metaphoric (as well as real) castle wall.

... I do believe a poem should stand on it's own and not have to resort to tricks, but we shall see.

What fit has wrenched you from all frames of rationality?
The elemental quantum-mechanical firmament of literature (and poetry,
its addled progeny) IS trickery!!

By all that is sacred, what daemon has seized thee?

"If what we desired enfolded us we would stand silent."
- Dorian Mode

"We writers here we implement the evil that
Last flew Pandora's jar, that charlatan called hope."
- anon (ref.  Herbert Jennings)

As you seem to reflect back my own thoughts to me I can only believe we were
separated at birth as we are brother's in cynic-schism

Thanks for the critique, I will keep these things in mind.

Dale

And who in his correct mind could not be so flattered by such an
expulsion of pure sediment as to be unable to make rational reply? Not I.

I look forward to your exegesis (should this luck befall me) of any of my
future poems. And especially the ones that invoke (multiply) that metaphoric
organ of love: The heart.

Until then, I remain your passionate and earnest brother in cynic-schism
(and as sincere as ever),
Ray

[tectak]

 

Time and Ode to Entropy  (edit 0.002 Leah S, updated but still in progress) 

 
I regret that I have but one life,
not to give… but to live!
Here I find that before I have fully enteredHere is where. I ask because I do not know. You do not say
I am walking out the door, I think american is "walking out the door" but english is "walking out of the door".Me? I just don't know.Just saying (whatever that means)
in the midst of walking forward No. "midst" is most certainly wrong. You cannot be in the "midst of walking". Rephrase.
I find I’ve turned about;
like a match, before it's fully lit,"...a candle wick, not fully lit, I find that I'm snuffed out." Surely. Try snuffing out a flaring match. Caution! Contains oxidising agent.
I find that I'm snuffed out.

It is true I’ll admit,
I have been at times
a spendthrift of minutes,
a wastrel of hours,
a squanderer of days,
as I idled in a diffidently
hesitating, halcyon haze. Surely not.
Halcyon Haze
www.halcyonhaze.co.uk/
Halcyon Haze - a range of premium e-liquid flavours from the UK using premium e-liquid ingredients, great juice for your electronic cigarette - order online. The rest I like.

At times too,
I have been a hoarder of time,
a miser of the fleeting moment,
a collector of the clicks of Chronos’
heels as he strides across the
titanic gulf, over the starry field. Great stuff, this mythological meandering. Cronus, Chronus, Titan Cronus, bull, man, lion, three heads, serpent-like....and with heels, to boot....but that last line. Priceless in all its certainty
Still, time is not a set of baseball cards.

There is no coin with which
time can be bought,
to then be categorized,
and put neatly in its place,
in a book of like minded cards. Lost me here. Hang on. Let me think. Nope. Lost me here. I keep thinking of Parking Meters.Sorry....I am being frivolous.

There are none like minded,
time does not mind, but instead
expects to be minded.
Time is often sought,
but rarely found. There are semantic sins in this stanza but I cannot for the life of me unfathom the fathomless or pick the unpickable lock. So I will leave it alone

One might just as easily
walk down a sidewalk
and find it lying on the ground Oh please...not you, too dale. It? It? You would not let me get away with "it".

A pack of knaves, a house of cards,
a ring around the rosy? Almost as all encompassing as mythology but none the worse for it. The question mark works for me...but would not for you.
It matters not for in the end
we all fall down humpty dumpty:
broken, fragmented,
a shell of our former self,
never to rise again.

Time cares not, it makes no amends,
it is the unglue that permeates
throughout the universe. I look for cohesion but find none in this stanza...it is unglued (huh?)

Time wishes not to create:
but only to unmake. If this is Entropy for the Layman it is un-understandable. You are now pushing the boundaries to where no man has gone before...er...or since

The un-maker procreator
of timeless destruction;
the succubus of life. Why the succubus? Why not the incubus? In fact, why either. I struggle here
Sucking the life out of energy,
and the energy out of life. Hmmm. If I said this was a contrivance would you hold it against me?
It is true, wise men have found,
that even when sated,
time con-tin-u-e-s

to

   wind

          ...down.

Well, dale, I guess I failed on this one. It is brave crit who admits to understanding the un-ness of it...and I am un-brave. So un-less there is more to this than I am capable of un-derstanding I am un-derwhelmed. Un-dying respect.
tectak
______________________________________
(edit .001 - Leanne, Billy)

I regret that I have but one life,
not to give… but to live!
Here I find that before I have fully entered
I am walking out the door,
in the midst of walking forward
I find I’ve turned about;
like a match, before it's fully lit,
I find that I'm snuffed out.

It is true I’ll admit,
I have been at times
a spendthrift of minutes,
a wastrel of hours,
a squanderer of days,
as I idled in a diffidently
hesitating, halcyon haze.

At times too,
I have been a hoarder of time,
a miser of the fleeting moment,
a collector of the clicks of Chronos’
heels as he strides across the
titanic gulf, over the starry field.
Still, time is not a set of baseball cards.

There is no coin with which
time can be bought,
to then be categorized,
and put neatly in its place,
in a book of like minded cards.

There are none like minded,
time does not mind, but instead
expects to be minded.
Time is often sought,
but rarely found.

One might just as easily
walk down a sidewalk
and find it lying on the ground

A pack of knaves, a house of cards,
a ring around the rosy?
It matters not for in the end
we all fall down humpty dumpty:
broken, fragmented,
a shell of our former self,
never to rise again.

Time cares not, it makes no amends,
it is the unglue that throughout
the universe permeates.
Time wishes not to create:
but only to unmake.

The un-maker procreator
of timeless destruction;
the succubus of life.
Sucking the life out of energy,
and the energy out of life.
It is true, wise men have found,
that even when sated,
time con-tin-u-e-s

to

   wind

          ...down.


–Erthona


original
 
 
©2013-2015

[Erthona]

Ray, you are the pinnacle of euriditness and I bow to your verbosity, as who can stand before it? (Do I need to do more critiques of you poems? I would critique all except some slip by me, seemingly not raising a hair of awareness)

Your brother in the killing of sacred cows and all things cynically-schismatical,

Dale  

[Erthona]

Tom,

Thank you for your overwhelming comments. I have answered all that I didn't automatically agree with. Some of the responses are simply clarification and not necessarily a rejection of the comment. My changing the ubiquitous "Tom wrote:" to other variations was simply boredom and no slight to any person named "Tom." Nor is it because I felt -that- you are a card and needed to be dealt with.
_______________________________________
Since you asked:"in a book of like minded cards." Collectable or trading cards, like baseball cards.
______________________________________
Tommy Gun wrote: ""...a candle wick, not fully lit, I find that I'm snuffed out." Surely. Try snuffing out a flaring match. Caution! Contains oxidising (oxidizing) agent."

My idea here is that life is ignited, not lit as in a candle. Notice language of "the spark of life." Candles have no spark, matches do. The spark is what ignites the flame. As opposed to D. H. Lawrence's "We fucked the flame of life into being!" (Lady Chatterley's Lover)
____________________________________________
Tommy blue note wrote: "Surely not. Halcyon Haze" No the word play on "halcyon days."

definition #3-
" 3. happy; joyful; carefree:
"halcyon days of youth."

So yes and quit calling me Shirley!

Your serve!
_______________________________________
Tom a than wrote: "No. "midst" is most certainly wrong. You cannot be in the "midst of walking"."

Midst: "the position of anything surrounded by other things or parts, or occurring in the middle of a period of time, course of action, etc. (usually preceded by the)"

I would submit that walking is a "course of action," and as it starts from point A and continues to point B, there is "a period of time which passes" while doing so. Midst is basically a shortened form of "in the middle of," an as one can be in the "midst" of eating, or in the midst of a conversation, I am unsure from where this comment springs?
_____________________________________
"One might just as easily
walk down a sidewalk
and find it lying on the ground

Tom wrote: Oh please...not you, too dale. It? It? You would not let me get away with "it"."

Yes, you're correct, I will change it post haste.

______________________________________________
Tom wrote: "I look for cohesion but find none in this stanza...it is unglued (huh?)" Yes, I agree the "throughout" must go!
______________________________________________

Time wishes not to create:
but only to unmake.

Tom wrote: "If this is Entropy for the Layman it is un-understandable. You are now pushing the boundaries to where no man has gone before...er...or since" (by the rule of negative un-understanable means understandable.)

This is referencing the arrow of time, which goes from order to disorder. Meaning energy goes from an energetic state to dispersed dispersed one. It is in this way I am using the more poetic phrase of "unmaking." As I am referring to it, I am talking about when energy becomes dispersed into space in the form of heat and "the temperature becomes spatially homogeneous." This to say that any system which is not already at it's lowest energetic state is currently in a process where it's energy supply will be depleted and the system becomes inert. In other words, it has been unmade. The arrow of time is the direction of this progress. Over time all systems will become depleted of energy, and that in conjunction with the expansion of the Universe, will create, in trillions of years, a universe that has all of it's energy dissipated into space to the degree work can no longer be accomplished. It is this aspect of time that I am personifying and applying it directly to human perception of life, specifically human life.
As this is poetry and not science I thought I might be spared of the exactitude which is needed in science, but not in poetry, especially as I was using a personified "arrow of time" as the metaphor "time" as it is often perceived from the human point of view.
As your comment was inexact in terms of specificity, this is the best reply I can offer. If you find that you can fine tune your comment to more of a specific nature, then maybe I will be better able to accommodate you.
____________________________________________________________
Thomas wrote: "Why the succubus? Why not the incubus? In fact, why either.(?) I struggle here(.)"

There is a difference between a succubus and an incubus. While the incubus forcefully invades the woman, or the woman's dreams, it has more the tone of rape. Whereas a succubus must first seduce her prey, gain consent, before she can do her damage. Another characteristic of a succubus that goes back to Lilith (Adam's first wife). Lilith and those who preceded her were much more powerful than just a reason for nocturnal emissions. They would also kill the man once he submitted to them, or later in history, would inflict a wasting sickness on the individual which would lead to a premature death. Plus the common perception that a succubus sucks the life out of him not only just literally in terms of his seed, but also figuratively in terms of his soul or his life essence. To me, succubus seemed a very apt descriptor.
___________________________________________________
Tommy two tone wrote: "Hmmm. If I said this was a contrivance would you hold it against me?"

Ah see, this is what one so often gets when opening oneself to criticism. Ray chastised me for trying to do away with tricky and here you rebuke me for using it. To me, the question should be, not is it a contrivance since all of poetry is in some way a contrivance, but is it a good contrivance. I do not think it is a bad contrivance since it has a solid foundation within my use of the term succubus.
__________________________________________________

Tommy couldn't figure wrote: "Well, dale, I guess I failed on this one. It is brave crit who admits to understanding the un-ness of it...and I am un-brave. So un-less there is more to this than I am capable of un-derstanding I am un-derwhelmed."

Un-fortunately I am forced to give your opinion some credence based on past history, and when I find such credence I shall give it to you, although I may have already given it to you to some extent

xoxoxoxo,

dale

[rayheinrich]

... Do I need to do more critiques of you poems? ...
Dale  

No. I do very few crits of other's works. Each time someone takes the time
to crit one of mine it makes me feel egotistical and selfish. The first doesn't bother
me so much as the last. Being selfish is being conservative and I hate the thought
that anyone would think me such. (Not that I would try to stop you as any attention
whatsoever leaves me in a state of pleasure so pathetic that it borders on the supernatural.)

Yours in stigmatic opprobrium,
Ray

---

___________________________________________________
Tommy two tone wrote: "Hmmm. If I said this was a contrivance would you hold it against me?"

Ah see, this is what one so often gets when opening oneself to criticism. Ray chastised me for trying to do away with tricky and here you rebuke me for using it. To me, the question should be, not is it a contrivance since all of poetry is in some way a contrivance, but is it a good contrivance. I do not think it is a bad contrivance since it has a solid foundation within my use of the term succubus.

Oh muddle-headed me!

Yes, it's trickery, but the best surpass ALL truth.

It's about not getting caught.

Ray

[tectak]

Tom,

Thank you for your overwhelming comments. I have answered all that I didn't automatically agree with. Some of the responses are simply clarification and not necessarily a rejection of the comment. My changing the  ubiquitous "Tom wrote:" to other variations was simply boredom and no slight to any person named "Tom."  Nor is it because I felt -that- you are a card and needed to be dealt with.  
_______________________________________
Since you asked:"in a book of like minded cards." Collectable or trading cards, like baseball cards.
______________________________________
Tommy Gun wrote: ""...a candle wick, not fully lit, I find that I'm snuffed out." Surely. Try snuffing out a flaring match. Caution! Contains oxidising (oxidizing)  agent."

My idea here is that life is ignited, not lit as in a candle. Notice language of "the spark of life." Candles have no spark, matches do. The spark is what ignites the flame. As opposed to D. H. Lawrence's "We fucked the flame of life into being!"  (Lady Chatterley's Lover)  
____________________________________________
Tommy blue note wrote: "Surely not. Halcyon Haze"  No the word play on "halcyon days."

definition #3-
" 3.  happy; joyful; carefree:
      "halcyon days of youth."

So yes and quit calling me Shirley!

Your serve! Yes...shame about the commercial cliche, though.
_______________________________________
Tom a than wrote: "No. "midst" is most certainly wrong. You cannot be in the "midst of walking"."

Midst: "the position of anything surrounded by other things or parts, or occurring in the middle of a period of time, course of action, etc. (usually preceded by the)"

I would submit that walking is a "course of action," and as it starts from point A and continues to point B, there is "a period of time which passes" while doing so. Midst is basically a shortened form of "in the middle of," an as one can be in the "midst" of eating, or in the midst of a conversation, I am unsure from where this comment springs?     walking is too pedestrian for the wordiness but citing The Grammatist, from english economy of words:
"In the midst of
The wordy phrase in the midst of could almost always be shortened to amid, among, during, or in (or, for non-U.S. writers, amidst). In some cases, the phrase could be removed outright. There’s nothing strictly incorrect about using in the midst of, though, so use it if you think it sounds better than the alternatives.

Examples

There are shorter alternatives to in the midst of in each of these cases:

In the midst of [Amid?] the Great American Royal Wedding Frenzy, it’s hard to remember that not everything British is upscale and quaint. [Los Angeles Times]

Yet more proof that we’re in the midst of [in?] a TV golden age. [Atlantic]

In the midst of [During?] a riotous wake at the Pink Hotel, a 17-year-old London girl takes clothes and a suitcase from her dead mother’s room. [Daily Mail]"
_____________________________________
"One might just as easily
walk down a sidewalk
and find it lying on the ground

Tom wrote: Oh please...not you, too dale. It? It? You would not let me get away with "it"."

Yes, you're correct, I will change it post haste.

______________________________________________
Tom wrote: "I look for cohesion but find none in this stanza...it is unglued (huh?)" Yes, I agree the "throughout" must go!
______________________________________________

Time wishes not to create:
but only to unmake.

Tom wrote: "If this is Entropy for the Layman it is un-understandable. You are now pushing the boundaries to where no man has gone before...er...or since"  (by the rule of negative un-understanable means understandable.) No. By your logic, "un-understandable " means "derstandable"

This is referencing the arrow of time, which goes from order to disorder. Meaning energy goes from an energetic state to dispersed dispersed one. It is in this way I am using the more poetic phrase of "unmaking." As I am referring to it, I am talking about when energy becomes dispersed into space in the form of heat and "the temperature becomes spatially homogeneous."  This to say that any system which is not already at it's lowest energetic state is currently in a process where it's energy supply will be depleted and the system becomes inert. In other words, it has been unmade. The arrow of time is the direction of this progress. Over time all systems will become depleted of energy, and that in conjunction with the expansion of the Universe, will create, in trillions of years, a universe that has all of it's energy dissipated into space to the degree work can no longer be accomplished. It is this aspect of time that I am personifying and applying it directly to human perception of life, specifically human life.
As this is poetry and not science I thought I might be spared of the exactitude which is needed in science, but not in poetry, especially as I was using a personified "arrow of time" as the metaphor "time" as it is often perceived from the human point of view.
As your comment was inexact in terms of  specificity, this is the best reply I can offer. If you find that you can fine tune your comment to more of a specific nature, then maybe I will be better able to accommodate you. So entropic principle it is, then?"
____________________________________________________________
Thomas wrote: "Why the succubus? Why not the incubus? In fact, why either.(?) I struggle here(.)"

There is a difference between a succubus and an incubus. While the incubus forcefully invades the woman, or the woman's dreams, it has more the tone of rape. Whereas a succubus must first seduce her prey, gain consent, before she can do her damage. Another characteristic of a succubus that goes back to Lilith (Adam's first wife). Lilith and those who preceded her were much more powerful than just a reason for nocturnal emissions. They would also kill the man once he submitted to them, or later in history, would inflict a wasting sickness on the individual which would lead to a premature death. Plus the common perception that a succubus sucks the life out of him not only just literally in terms of his seed, but also figuratively in terms of his soul or his life essence. To me, succubus seemed a very apt descriptor. granted
___________________________________________________
Tommy two tone wrote: "Hmmm. If I said this was a contrivance would you hold it against me?"

Ah see, this is what one so often gets when opening oneself to criticism. Ray chastised me for trying to do away with tricky and here you rebuke me for using it. To me, the question should be, not is it a contrivance since all of poetry is in some way a contrivance, but is it a good contrivance. I do not think it is a bad contrivance since it has a solid foundation within my use of the term succubus.
__________________________________________________
 
Tommy couldn't figure wrote: "Well, dale, I guess I failed on this one. It is brave crit who admits to understanding the un-ness of it...and I am un-brave. So un-less there is more to this than I am capable of un-derstanding I am un-derwhelmed."

Un-fortunately I am forced to give your opinion some credence based on past history, and when I find such credence I shall give it to you, although I may have already given it to you to some extent

xoxoxoxo,

dale

[Erthona]

Thomas,

I subjected this part of the sentence to you experiment and substituted "midst" with the alternative words. 


"in the midst of walking forward"  amid, among, during and in.


I am walking out the door, amid walking forward I find I’ve turned about;   no

I am walking out the door, among walking forward I find I’ve turned about;  no

I am walking out the door, during walking forward I find I’ve turned about;  no

I am walking out the door, in walking forward I find I’ve turned about;   Iffy.  Does not convey the sense of being in the middle of something.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Of course all of this is just to take focus off your original error and act as though you are defending your original statement when you are not.

" No. "midst" is most certainly wrong. ↓  You cannot be in the "midst of walking""

Tell me, how long did you have to search before you found your quote? Not that I mind, mind you, as it is something I would probably do, so I commend you on that. Very devious. However you are still wrong.

your bosom buddy,

dale

 

[tectak]

Thomas,

I subjected this part of the sentence to you experiment and substituted "midst" with the alternative words. 


"in the midst of walking forward"  amid, among, during and in.


I am walking out the door, amid walking forward I find I’ve turned about;   no

I am walking out the door, among walking forward I find I’ve turned about;  no

I am walking out the door, during walking forward I find I’ve turned about;  no

I am walking out the door, in walking forward I find I’ve turned about;   Iffy.  Does not convey the sense of being in the middle of something.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Of course all of this is just to take focus off your original error and act as though you are defending your original statement when you are not.

" No. "midst" is most certainly wrong. ↓  You cannot be in the "midst of walking""

Tell me, how long did you have to search before you found your quote? Not that I mind, mind you, as it is something I would probably do, so I commend you on that. Very devious. However you are still wrong.

your bosom buddy,

dale

 

Hi dale
I am going to ceoncede on this but find myself disturbed by my own certainty....and I think I know why. I admit that I yielded to instinct with my "..certainly wrong" but on reflection I may have uncovered an interesting nuance. It goes something like thix. Being *in the midst" of variables works but being "in the midst of ", shall we say, fungibles....not so well. So eating works as there are many things one can eat. Writing works because there are many things one can be writing about. Thinking works because there are many things one can be writing about...in other words, it seems that being "in the midst of" many things makes sense to me. Being *in the midst" of a single thing or action...not so well. So in the midst of water...no. In the midst of leaving...no. In the midst of walking...no? Hmmmm. Am I on to something?
No. I didn't need to google. I have had the temerity to pontificate on the peculiarity of the "in the midst " expression on more than one occasion but this is the first time I have investigated my instinct. Not advisable.
I am in the midst of conceeding. Hmmmm. Interesting.
Best,
Tom

[rayheinrich]

It seems to me that you can be in the midst of
anything that occupies space and/or time.

So you can be in the midst of a plane and the midst of a line, but you
can't be in the midst of a point, a quanta, and various other singularities.

"I was in the midst of having stopped" is incorrect because
"stopped" doesn't occupy time.

"I was in the midst of nothingness" seems incorrect to me as well.

[Erthona]

Obviously one must be in the midst of something to use the term. It can be physical/action: I was in the midst of washing the dishes. Mental: I was in the midst of a daydream. Feeling: I was in the midst of depression until Jesus saved me and took away my depression. Personification: The tree was in the midst of contemplation until the talking cow moseyed up to her and started droning in her ear about the vulgar bull she has to deal with.

What a utilitarian word is "midst".

I was in the midst of effulgence until I took off my glass micro-beaded suit and disappeared.

I think form now on I will put "midst" in the midst of everything I say...just for Tom.

Dale

[Leah S.]

 

Time and Ode to Entropy  (edit 0.002 Leah S, updated but still in progress) 

 
I regret that I have but one life,
not to give… but to live!
Here I find that before I have fully entered
I am walking out the door,
in the midst of walking forward
I find I’ve turned about;
like a match, before it's fully lit,
I find that I'm snuffed out.

It is true I’ll admit,
I have been at times
a spendthrift of minutes,
a wastrel of hours,
a squanderer of days,
as I idled in a diffidently
hesitating, halcyon haze.

At times too,
I have been a hoarder of time,
a miser of the fleeting moment,
a collector of the clicks of Chronos’
heels as he strides across the
titanic gulf, over the starry field.
Still, time is not a set of baseball cards.

There is no coin with which
time can be bought,
to then be categorized,
and put neatly in its place,
in a book of like minded cards. needs a hyphen: 'like-minded'.

There are none like minded, ditto
time does not mind, but instead
expects to be minded.
Time is often sought,
but rarely found.

One might just as easily
walk down a sidewalk
and find it lying on the ground

A pack of knaves, a house of cards,
a ring around the rosy?
It matters not for in the end
we all fall down humpty dumpty:
broken, fragmented, duplicated adjectives, give me something different about broken shells.
a shell of our former self,
never to rise again.

Time cares not, it makes no amends, 'it' wants to be deleted.
it is the unglue that permeates def. of 'permeates': to penetrate through......to be diffused through.
throughout the universe. Methinks "throughout' must go.

Time wishes not to create:
but only to unmake.

The un-maker procreator love this phrase....
of timeless destruction;
the succubus of life.
Sucking the life out of energy,
and the energy out of life.
It is true, wise men have found,
that even when sated,
time con-tin-u-e-s

to

   wind

          ...down.


______________________________________
(edit .001 - Leanne, Billy)

I regret that I have but one life,
not to give… but to live!
Here I find that before I have fully entered
I am walking out the door,
in the midst of walking forward
I find I’ve turned about;
like a match, before it's fully lit,
I find that I'm snuffed out.

It is true I’ll admit,
I have been at times
a spendthrift of minutes,
a wastrel of hours,
a squanderer of days,
as I idled in a diffidently
hesitating, halcyon haze.

At times too,
I have been a hoarder of time,
a miser of the fleeting moment,
a collector of the clicks of Chronos’
heels as he strides across the
titanic gulf, over the starry field.
Still, time is not a set of baseball cards.

There is no coin with which
time can be bought,
to then be categorized,
and put neatly in its place,
in a book of like minded cards.

There are none like minded,
time does not mind, but instead
expects to be minded.
Time is often sought,
but rarely found.

One might just as easily
walk down a sidewalk
and find it lying on the ground

A pack of knaves, a house of cards,
a ring around the rosy?
It matters not for in the end
we all fall down humpty dumpty:
broken, fragmented,
a shell of our former self,
never to rise again.

Time cares not, it makes no amends,
it is the unglue that throughout
the universe permeates.
Time wishes not to create:
but only to unmake.

The un-maker procreator
of timeless destruction;
the succubus of life.
Sucking the life out of energy,
and the energy out of life.
It is true, wise men have found,
that even when sated,
time con-tin-u-e-s

to

   wind

          ...down.


–Erthona


original
 
 
©2013-2015

[rayheinrich]

 

Time and Ode to Entropy  (edit 0.002 Leah S, updated but still in progress) 

 
I regret that I have but one life,
not to give… but to live!
Here I find that before I have fully entered
I am walking out the door,
in the midst of walking forward
I find I’ve turned about;
like a match, before it's fully lit,
I find that I'm snuffed out.

It is true I’ll admit,
I have been at times
a spendthrift of minutes,
a wastrel of hours,
a squanderer of days,
as I idled in a diffidently
hesitating, halcyon haze.

At times too,
I have been a hoarder of time,
a miser of the fleeting moment,
a collector of the clicks of Chronos’
heels as he strides across the
titanic gulf, over the starry field.
Still, time is not a set of baseball cards.

There is no coin with which
time can be bought,
to then be categorized,
and put neatly in its place,
in a book of like minded cards. needs a hyphen: 'like-minded'.

There are none like minded, ditto
time does not mind, but instead
expects to be minded.
Time is often sought,
but rarely found.

One might just as easily
walk down a sidewalk
and find it lying on the ground

A pack of knaves, a house of cards,
a ring around the rosy?
It matters not for in the end
we all fall down humpty dumpty:
broken, fragmented, duplicated adjectives, give me something different about broken shells.
a shell of our former self,
never to rise again.

Time cares not, it makes no amends, 'it' wants to be deleted.
it is the unglue that permeates def. of 'permeates': to penetrate through......to be diffused through.
throughout the universe. Methinks "throughout' must go.

Time wishes not to create:
but only to unmake.

The un-maker procreator love this phrase....
of timeless destruction;
the succubus of life.
Sucking the life out of energy,
and the energy out of life.
It is true, wise men have found,
that even when sated,
time con-tin-u-e-s

to

   wind

          ...down.


______________________________________
(edit .001 - Leanne, Billy)

I regret that I have but one life,
not to give… but to live!
Here I find that before I have fully entered
I am walking out the door,
in the midst of walking forward
I find I’ve turned about;
like a match, before it's fully lit,
I find that I'm snuffed out.

It is true I’ll admit,
I have been at times
a spendthrift of minutes,
a wastrel of hours,
a squanderer of days,
as I idled in a diffidently
hesitating, halcyon haze.

At times too,
I have been a hoarder of time,
a miser of the fleeting moment,
a collector of the clicks of Chronos’
heels as he strides across the
titanic gulf, over the starry field.
Still, time is not a set of baseball cards.

There is no coin with which
time can be bought,
to then be categorized,
and put neatly in its place,
in a book of like minded cards.

There are none like minded,
time does not mind, but instead
expects to be minded.
Time is often sought,
but rarely found.

One might just as easily
walk down a sidewalk
and find it lying on the ground

A pack of knaves, a house of cards,
a ring around the rosy?
It matters not for in the end
we all fall down humpty dumpty:
broken, fragmented,
a shell of our former self,
never to rise again.

Time cares not, it makes no amends,
it is the unglue that throughout
the universe permeates.
Time wishes not to create:
but only to unmake.

The un-maker procreator
of timeless destruction;
the succubus of life.
Sucking the life out of energy,
and the energy out of life.
It is true, wise men have found,
that even when sated,
time con-tin-u-e-s

to

   wind

          ...down.


–Erthona


original
 
 
©2013-2015

How the F did this make it in? Is it even legal to provide constructive criticism after
a thread has, amidst unbridled umbilical diddling, defecatiously divagated?

We think not!

As sincerely as ever,
Ray

P.S. What ignorant idiot would leave the hyphen out of  "like-minded"
unless, of course, he likes to be minded by severely large German nurses.


P.P.S. Though, I must confess, the lines below are direct evidence of sheer arrant genius:

Time cares not, it makes no amends,
it is the unglue that throughout
the universe permeates.
Time wishes not to create:
but only to unmake.

The un-maker procreator
of timeless destruction;

[Erthona]

Ray,

I agree., but beggars can't be choosers, or that's what Kriss told me. "Whose to Bless and who's to blame".


Dale