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 06-09-2008 Eric Gasparich
There's a bit of a trick that nature plays on us by giving us a year of consistent duration. At age five, a year is a fifth of your experience, and seems like forever. It ten, it is still a tenth. At 30, it is but a third of that, and at 60 that is halved again. Suddenly years are rushing by untrammeled and I suppose we are meant to realize it was always that way.
Nasty trick.
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05-24-2008 BJ Niktabe
This is an interesting thought. As a child, even a teen, you don't think of life in inches, when there are so very many miles stretched out before you. Even at thirty, I think it was still miles and miles. It's funny, now that I've reached that 50 mile marker, everything seems to have changed. I can't say that I see life in inches yet, not even feet or yards. But that mile seems to be not as far away, not quite out of reach like it used to be.
I guess I'm not thinking of it as 'dying' one inch at a time, but I think I'll keep living one inch (day) at a time.
Thank you for this thought provoking write! :)
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10-20-2007 Everett (dale) Pogue
Minstrelman: It must have been a particularly hard day when you wrote this poem. I don't think it's about you for you have a lot of thingd going. Anyone who can strum the guitar and sing and write songs is not dying, he is living! Anyway, it was a thought-provoking write and I enjoyed reading it. I think the subject is debatable. Thanks. Dale
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10-14-2007 Walter Jones
A drink in my hand, a song on my lips, microphone trying hard to understand, girth of fates, eyes aching, time mutters your place is kept for you, lady grabs my hand and helps me stagger forward, hole in the ground waits, one more round, one more song, a perfect day, as the inch worm waits patiently for despair to fade, you write as song as pure as life lived.. Master you continue to be..
Walt
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10-12-2007 Frank Fields
This is most disturbing. A tale well-told, a picture well-painted of what is left, when all that's left is death. And, perhaps even worse, knowledge that it doesn't have to end "one inch at a time." An interesting metaphor that I don't fully understand, but it adds to the deep intensity of the piece. I didn't "like" it, but it was well-worth reading. Thank you.
Frank :)
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