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This Poem was Submitted By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2006-10-22 18:29:19 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Rapping

Time marches to the drums beat of millions of passing seconds. Moments are straining to exist in the now but are over before barely created. Trying to snare, save, and use, a second, a minute, or an hour, are defeated. Time never pauses; its intervals set, to our regret, we have no power upon the hour. With a grim jaw line holding bold and firm, we must adapt to the rap of progression.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Ellen K Lewis On Date: 2006-10-24 22:05:11
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Cool! I like this. That's a great title for it. I can't offer much as far as changes go. I like the uneven 'drumbeats' and the catch phrases. I like the way some of your rhymes tumble over each other-even in mid sentence! Great job. I really like this one alot.

This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2006-10-24 15:08:12
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.75000
Hi D....this is a very "sage" write and every word is true. To me an example of how fast time travels is in my children. It seems they were born, grew up, married, and had children of their own...in one split second. When the three of them were little (they were all barely two years apart) it seemed to me I would always have little children and would always be tired. But then just as I got use to that they were grown and graduating from high school. I tried to keep my grandchildren little but that didn't work either. Now a home that was filled with laughter, rowdiness, and one crisis after another is quiet. Your line..."we have no power upon the hour" holds significance for me and probably every mother. Good poem! Blessings....Marilyn

This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2006-10-23 13:47:00
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Perhaps, my dear, but perhaps not. "Rapping" is a gerund adulterated by a usually most tiresome musical style. The parallels there, to your theme would be interesting. I'm not certain mankind holds progression well in time, either. We slide backwards so easily. Each time coming back a little less adventurous...or so it seems. But you are indeed right about the drudging wait and that appearance of drum beat. Although the experience of hours can sometimes seem as moments and moments can sometimes seem as hours. But then I have even argued that for some, time can even wait...much against the famous saying. JCH

This Poem was Critiqued By: Paul R Lindenmeyer On Date: 2006-10-23 09:27:10
Critiquer Rating During Critique: Unknown
Dellena, nice piece exuding the accleration of time adjoining itself to the music and beat of the generational music which I find almost incomprehensible, as did my parents when they first heard Dylan or Hendrix. Our lives do pass in split seconds with as you say,the "grim line holding" "rap of progression." That's our reality and we're stickin' to it, as us country boys say. Verbiage is crisp, I like the linkaged "snare,save and use" to "second,minute or hour." Perhaps some condensation is possible, but the message and tie to the current Rap vogue is timely...Peace, Paul

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