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Socraitic Time Keeping A patch work of arguments wrinkle time in the face of hands running in quicksand all movements sink by those ticked at the chime an alarm striking the insightful grand inertia's act of inaction proceeds with thumbs rotating in lap after lap tongues fence with the point of attack that feeds separation of tastes that merely trap jaws chewing opinions brewing up spit fermenting obstacles caught in the eye leaping microscopic precepts that split differences with a pendulum gone wry old tales grown in communal minds well aged are the metronome hearts use for a gauge |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Latorial D. Faison On Date: 2005-01-06 02:24:39
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.87500
James, I don't know too much about old philosophers (I'm assuming here --smile), but need I say it, this poem is grand. All of your poems are. I feel like you put a wealth of time and energy into each one. Do you? How long does it take you to come up with poems of this magnitude. I'm not trying to flatter you, but your poems are so well written. What I love most is that you've adopted this form because you do it so well.
I think I've told you that I feel as though I'm reading poetry from a brilliant mind of the past when I read something like this, "Socraitic Time Keeping." You and Shakespeare might be kin.
To get to the poem, you also did an impeccable, interesting job of capturing the everyday uniqueness of life.
You play on words so well ie. "patchwork of arguments" wrinkling time and so forth. I hope that decades down teh road some company like Simon and Schuster or Random House will find out about you and publish your great work. it deserves to be studied and adored.
We all have our reasons for writing. I believe that mine has its place, and I know that your work suddenly does.
I think that this poem speaks to the issue of time and how life equates to it. You draw on so many idiosyncrasies of the mundane like our movements, tongues talking, arguments and all kinds of misunderstanding and misinterpretations while we are slowly sinking, dying and coming to our ends. We and and life runs out of time . . . eventually. I think your poem brings that idea to life in a poetically elegant and intriguing way. I also walk away with the idea that it's okay to be okay with time, the fact that we are running out of it day by day.
It reminds me of a phrase my brother-in-law always says, and it makes me laugh:
"Jesus keeps the books."
Great poem!
Latorial
www.latorialfaison.com