Its about Time ...

[AlfredJPruffock]

.


Time will say nothing but I told you so
Time only knows the price we have to pay

If I could tell you I would let you know.


If we should weep when clowns put on their show
If we should stumble when musicians play

Time will say nothing but I told you so.

There are no fortunes to be told, although,
Because I love you more than I can say,

If I could tell you I would let you know.

The winds must come from somewhere when they blow
There must be reasons why the leaves decay

Time will say nothing but I told you so

Perhaps the roses really want to grow
The vision seriously intends to stay

If I could tell you I would let you know

Suppose all the lions get up and go,
And all the brooks and soldiers run away

Will Time say nothing but I told you so?


WH Auden

 

[xoggoth]

Auden had the most utterly wrinkly face I have ever seen.

 

[OwlHoot]

Auden had the most utterly wrinkly face I have ever seen.

I did a quick search, to try and fathom the mystery of how anyone could be so hang-dog wrinkly who hadn't spent forty years picking olives or something all day in southern Italy (as someone famously said, if his face is that wrinkly imagine his scrotum!), and found this interesting essay by him http://www.everypoet.org/pffa/showthread.php?t=53193

The girl whose boyfriend starts writing her love poems should be on her guard. Perhaps he really does love her, but one thing is certain: while he was writing his poems he was not thinking of her but of his own feelings about her and that is suspicious.

 

[Buffoon]

Time

Time

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but it's sinking
And racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a relative way, but you're older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death

Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time has gone, the song is over, thought I'd something more to say

 

[threaded]

There are hundreds of paths up the mountain,
all leading in the same direction,
so it doesn't matter which path you take.
The only one wasting time is the one
who runs around and around the mountain,
telling everyone that his or her path is wrong.

 

[Troll]

There are hundreds of paths up the mountain,
all leading in the same direction,
so it doesn't matter which path you take.
The only one wasting time is the one
who runs around and around the mountain,
telling everyone that his or her path is wrong.

But why do you have the go up the mountain at all?

 

[pisces]

...and if you do have to surely the quickest and or easiest way would be best?

 

[Troll]

Is the mountain a metaphor ?

 

[threaded]

Who is lovelier than she?
Yet she lives alone in an empty valley.
She tells me she came from a good family
Which is humbled now into the dust.
...When trouble arose in the Kuan district,
Her brothers and close kin were killed.
What use were their high offices,
Not even shielding their own lives? --
The world has but scorn for adversity;
Hope goes out, like the light of a candle.
Her husband, with a vagrant heart,
Seeks a new face like a new piece of jade;
And when morning-glories furl at night
And mandarin-ducks lie side by side,
All he can see is the smile of the new love,
While the old love weeps unheard.
The brook was pure in its mountain source,
But away from the mountain its waters darken.
...Waiting for her maid to come from selling pearls
For straw to cover the roof again,
She picks a few flowers, no longer for her hair,
And lets pine-needles fall through her fingers,
And, forgetting her thin silk sleeve and the cold,
She leans in the sunset by a tall bamboo.

 

[AlfredJPruffock]

Breaking up is hard
but keeping dark is hateful
I had so many dreams
I had so many breakthroughs

Perhaps youre smiling now
smiling through this darkness
But all I had to give
was the guilt for dreaming


Time - hes waiting in the wings
He speaks of senseless things
His script is you and me, boy

Time - he flexes like a whore
Falls w@nking to the floor
His trick is you and me, boy

Time - in Powders and Red Wine
Demanding Billy Pilgrim
And other friends of mine
Take your time

The sniper in the brain
regurgitating drain
Incestuous and vain
and many other last names

I look at my watch it say 9:25 and I think oh God Im still alive

We should be on by now

Time ...