Time Does Not Fly

[steepholm]

Driving to my mother's this afternoon, in bright low sun, through flooded fields, I found the following mournful ditty taking shape...

Time does not fly: it falls.
In tocks and ticks it drops and slips
Through fingers cupped to catch -

And though we weave our lives into a net
And lime its threads with memory and praise,
Time penetrates reticulated days:

Thus all our clocks are water clocks,
Eternity a standing pool.

Comments

[karinmollberg.livejournal.com]

"....And in the nights the heavy earth falls
from a multitude of stars into aloneness.

We are all falling. This hand is falling.
And look at the others: it's inside them all."

Autumn

Rilke

[steepholm.livejournal.com]

Thank you. (I'm not going to compete with Rilke!)

[karinmollberg.livejournal.com]

Of course, that´s the part of it I like: http://myweb.dal.ca/waue/Trans/Rilke-Herbst.html and which reminded me of yours (don´t know, if the translation is the best I´ve seen, but at a quick research...) In yours I am particularly fond of the beginning and how you let alliteration do the clockwork, I see sand slipping through a hand; an almost Blakean epitaph.

[hiroka.livejournal.com]

I thought yours was wonderful. Reminds me of where one of my friends live. Flooding all the time, and causing change, and ever differing.. Time the only static that isn't static at all.

[steepholm.livejournal.com]

Thank you: if that came across then it does what I wanted it to.

[cmcmck.livejournal.com]

The poetic muse sems to be striking a lot of us at present! :o)

[steepholm.livejournal.com]

It's winter, and our resistance is low.