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ryn Apr 2015
It's beginning...
As my day matured into the tangerine sun.
Familiar feelings effortlessly conjured as the same old tales were spun.

Some came in hues of marmalade
Traces of citrus that left in haste.
Initial sweetness on the palate that would fade
Only making way for a bitter aftertaste.

A few were wrapped in tints of ******.
A jolt-like sensation that spoke...
Intense and unmistakable in nature.
Like glowing embers engulfed in latent flames and smoke.

Several bore the colours and scent of marigold
Boasting of orange petals whimsically waving to the clouds...
Whispering hints of rumours from days of old,
Days of when mine was the only silent face in a boisterous crowd.

The ones forged in bronze were few and hardly said.
Like the only compelling excerpt embedded within infinite chapters.
Hidden words in plain sight strung together boldly in
red.
Rubies cast carelessly in the swiftest of rivers...

It is beginning...**
The end of today as the sun grew redder...
I'd bide the sands of time as it slips away into forever...
Mellow waves Jul 2018
Go follow your dreams they say,
Well, how can i follow them if people can’t stop putting boarders,
If they can’t stop interfering with your life,
Pushing you too hard
Making you want to quit in times when you were fine all by yourself,
Why can’t everyone focus on their path in life? Is it too hard?
Does that sound impossible to you?
Just leave me and my life alone
I will carve my path as beautiful as i can
And with some bumps along the way,
I will create the most compelling work of art.
patty m Jan 2018
Through the Looking glass
Alice stands in all her splendor.
Her hair a curtain of silver rain,
her soft skin aglow in subliminal light.

A compelling fever rises
as Thomas tries different ways to pull
her up in memory
while writing himself into the tale.  
Poor Thomas delirious in his dilemma, he knows
this will be no easy seduction.  
How fiercely urgent his desire rises
as he longs to end our heroine's self-imposed abstinence.  

Hot April morning ambush,
and our intruder has beguiled our sweet Alice
with heated kisses sweeter than ripened fruit.  
A wildness stirs in the bloodstream.  
Now he slowly and lovingly explores her pristine body
as she shivers beneath his delicate strokes
until high trills rise to fevered pitch.

Pleated line of sky
muted corners softly come into focus.

Loathe to let her go,
passion stirs in his depths
slowly now he tastes her secrets,  shares her pleasure.

Tight buds of anticipation tenderly plucked,
his fingers find the stem, a measure of moisture;
Nimble fingered harmonies play pleasure symphonies
accompanied by soft echoes of youthful delight  
Warm and breathless, crystal rainbows paint the inside of her eyelids as she grows sleepy in afterglow.

Soon he's torn away, his pale poet's face conveying pain
received from this  now cool disconcerting beauty;
Though he touched folds and frills of every petal,
his chapter is immediately erased and the
original story reappears.  

She may have slipped down the rabbit hole,
but forever ladylike and pure is our sweet Alice.
cv Nov 2016
pressed against the cold bricks
outside the church,
she smiles around your lips,
her breath harsh on your face,
her scent compelling you with want;
you ravish her mouth,
thinking that maybe if you went deep enough,
you could stay inside her forever.
the drizzle comes to a stop,
and you hear nothing but the pastor saying:
Refrain from sin,
and He will let you in His Kingdom
!
paradise means nothing if i'm not with you, darling
Stephen E Yocum Jan 2018
Once I was young and strong,
Consumed with compelling
desires of Horizon Lust,
traveling forth long and far.

Time and age has intervened,
now I stand alone and wait
high above on the city gate,
Silent sentry to all of those young
lives that venture forth to explore
horizons of their own, and those
weather beat ones like me
returning to rest and remain.

Accepting as I must, that I shall
never again roam too far afield  
from my place upon the gate,
Content with a life well lived,
to languish now upon this place.

Horizon Lust is for the young.
Oh, if only we possessed our
acquired wisdom of age
back in our youth.

Now a heart and mind
full of memories along
with a tranquil place by
the home fire hearth is enough.
Though I would not be
who I am, with out pushing
out to discover what's there..
Ciara Dec 2013
I promise to never show mercy again.
You always tend to have an excuse.
But this time, it's different,
my dear.
The knot you tied around my heart has become loose.

Such inhumane thoughts, so compelling as to say the least.

The thoughts of destroying everything, running and not taking a glance black,
almost in the same sense of mind you use before you destroy yourself.
You do, without a second thought.
Oh, how you wish you could just tear them apart,
give them the same deep, tortuous scars that you bear.
How you crave to open their skin, in the same fashion you open your own.
That compelling blade, that riveting sensation of pleasure you feel after going deeper,
    deeper,
                "deeper",
you tell yourself,
and with each irrefutable slice,
with each breath that deepens,
you still
          feel

                     **nothing.
Arianna Dec 2018
Breathing deeply
Of the heat
Rising
In tidal rushes
From the velvet of
Your skin
Cascading
Over mine,
Entireties
Enveloping
Melting, us together,
Suspended in this
Pulsing plane
Of pleasure and pain,
As
The warmth of wine
Hits the blood
Wherein
La chaleur de nous-mêmes
Indistinguishable

HEART

Reunites
Inside-outside­
At once,
At one
In a carnal


SYMPOSIUM


Pomegranate cheeks
Pressed, rouge
Into wine,
Flowing
Ambrosia
Of sweat,
Honey,
And the Hunger
Of



TIME



Grapes bursting
Forth from vines
Of bordeaux kisses
Devoured,
Plucked ravenously
With tongues,
Flowing
In leaf-winged abundance
Over humming, desiring
Stomachs
Bursting with
Crimson cabernet
And the drunkenness of roses,
Blooming scarlet
And savage
Between thighs, and
Strewn back
Up the ripening
Raspberry vines
Now entwining,
All-compelling,
.
.
.
.
                                               T                                                       
                    R                                                  

A                         ­         I          
                              N                  M  ­  
N                                                
                     G.....         R
                    S                              ­                          
                     O
                                                     F                                                          ­  
               .
               .
               .
               .
Between skins,
Garlands
Of laurel caresses
Woven
‘Round necks,
Braided through shady
Willow tresses
By rose-stained
Fingertips
Hovering

D
O
W
N

To alight
Upon strawberry lips:
Inhaling
Hymns
From the depths beneath them:
Lush,
Flowing
Harmonies of


FEELING


Echoing,
As the tambourines
Chime louder
In breaths
Amidst the swaying
Of hips and

IMMOLATING

Free of form,
The dance



REVERBERATING



In the ardor
Of souls bared
Whole.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i4qePY2Wdss
Leonard Green Feb 2017
Prolog:
Foreplay opens with an aphrodisiac dubbed the mind
caressing private chambers with passion, over time
words stimulating nerve-endings for the ideal tease
like the skin dripping of honey from the nectar of bees
exploiting the fragrances of scented oils and balms
or maybe vib’ing lyrics inducing a seductive calm
compelling forces bombard the intellectual’s sanity
as the proximity of the blackhole distorts humanity

Love’s Play:
Costars entwine heated bodies for love’s embrace
as moments become endless as vectors of subspace
sporadic movements take the form of blissful spasms
while the players combine to mold a single plasm
ringing chimes fulfill the awareness with sensations
too diverse to classify for logical deliberations
yet finally, the mountaintop of cliffs can be reached
where there is no retreat and no return from its breach

Epilog:
Aftermath closes basking from the physical exertion
as two kindred spirits epitomize timeless insertion
gazing deeply into the abyss of the partner’s soul
only to find comfort and compassion ruling the role
can this be the earthly heaven that one truly beholds
written in the historic words as the heavens foretold
feelings ignite once again burning deeply within
opening yet another intriguing act, one must attend.
Dedicated to the lovers on Valentine's Day
Louis Verata Dec 2018
The river will cease
Just like Crete
The ocean’s tides and waves
On land there is no to be
One can proclaim
“Nothing is created nor destroyed”
A rather compelling case.

Yet memory
Emotions
Thoughts are soon to be forgotten
Like it never happened
Oblivion does not discriminate
She does not hate
Nor retaliates
For she conquers all.

Lets artists take the fame
Saints to be prayed
Wars to take place
Atomic bombs to take shape
In an instance
The gods will proclaim
“Oblivion is here to stay!”
Obscurity her only way.
Rowan Deysel Dec 2016
Caucasian cadaver in the windless woods.
Carelessly hanging from a tree.
Colorless face looking down.
Carrion yet to be seen.
Creation of an evil man.
Displaying his departed art.
Completed, his compelling plan.
Of helping death do its part.
Few colors, fewer sounds.
White skin contrasts the black dress.
Faded yellow floating all around.
Splatters of red fill the rest.
A frightful figure that overwhelms.
Above the confused and thorny trails.
All the shallow know themselves.
At the sight of this female.
Breathless before being dangled.
Dead before being displayed.
Beautiful body, cold and mangled.
Death magnificently portrayed.
Multiple stab wounds in your back.
Added to the smell of war.
Mind immersed in barren black.
Gnawed eyes to watch and adore.
Dripping, dim and dreadful.
The portrait he wanted to smear.
Your future as empty as your words.
Your hollowness shown clear.
You don't know what you're missing. 
Elders still die, the young still grow.
The leaves below are hissing.
At the corpse of a girl I used to know.
Made when I was an angsty, silly teenager who just got dumped by his first girlfriend.
Harsh Aug 2018
-  I will always be willing to listen to your
stories, and will forever want to hear them.
Your words are as good as music to me.

- There will be days where the sun feels cold to
me and I am made a prisoner to my deepest fears.
There will be nights where I wake up sobbing,
just as much a prisoner as I was during the day.
Be gentle, be patient with me.

- I smile at everyone I make eye contact with on the street.

- I love in an earnest manner that can be
overwhelming. I am not malevolent,
but rather I have spent years being told
that my feelings aren’t worth listening to,
and I just have a lifetime’s worth of love to give.

- If you manage to hold what I can throw at you,
you’ve found someone in your
corner that won’t go without a fight.

- You’ll never see me fighting anyone.

- I’ve worried I’m too vulnerable for far too long;
I am raw and unadulterated and unabashedly so.
I refuse to inhibit what I have to say.

- I will give you all that I have and more;
please don’t take advantage of this.

- I will write about you, I will write about how
I feel, I will write about someone I once loved
and about how I once felt. Words and feelings
are fleeting, but they are also powerful.

- I will ask you questions until I’ve found out
everything there is to know about you-
including things you never thought about.

- I have friends who will call me in the dead of
night; I will answer the phone, I will drive to
their house with their favorite dessert in tow.

- I will pull over on the side of the road if the
clouds are compelling enough. I can sit for hours
watching the sun set or water fall. Either hold my hand
and join me, or let me be overwhelmed by something 
greater than myself in peace.

- No one can or will love you the way that I do;
take that as my most horrid vice, or my most endearing virtue.
to someone I'm not sure I've met yet
Mikaila Sep 2018
The day you got your hair cut
I went to a lesbian bar after work.
It was 3
And I was tired
But I went straight there
Because I had to do something.
I knew it was a lost cause before I even got there.
The back of my neck was prickling with tension
With fear
Because I knew I was too late.
Somewhere in the depths of my soul
My free will was on a gurney,
Cold.
But I couldn’t help it-
I needed to feel like I had control,
So I went inside.
People were dancing.
None of them held themselves the way you do
Like a marble statue that has set down axe and shield and stepped off the plinth for a brief rest
(You will be returning to battle shortly-
After you fix your eyeliner.)

I did a shot
Because that’s what you do.
They were free- *** on the Beach.
I sat there,
Wondering why the fact that you named your cat Heathcliff as a child meant that I had to love you.

I decided that I needed something stronger in the way of alcohol.

A girl with soft brown eyes and long hair came up to me.
Her name was Tiffany.
She wasn’t clever like you
And her voice
Wasn’t low and rough like yours
But she told me I was pretty.
I already knew, but I thanked her.
I felt nothing.
She wasn’t interesting
Or funny
Or smart.
She was attractive- beautiful even, I suppose,
And maybe she was kind.
She bought me a drink,
And mistook my sadness for shyness.
As I answered her questions I was afraid your name would fall from my lips like a seed
Take root and grow up through the floorboards.
Nothing she said changed me, nothing I said back changed me,
And my thoughts kept snagging on you
Tearing and unraveling.
I needed you out of my head.
She was looking at me with big eyes
And I suppose they were compelling
But they weren’t yours-
Rimmed with black, hypnotic and stormy at times, sparkling with mischief at others,
Forever changing and forever captivating,
Windows to a soul I fiercely wish I knew-
They were just eyes, and maybe they were vulnerable
Or curious
Or sweet.
I kissed her so that I could stop looking into them
And not seeing you there.
Her lips tasted like nothing.
I closed my eyes and kissed her harder,
Hoping for a reason to forget you.

We were beautiful, I knew that.
I could feel eyes on us-
Two small, lovely women
Tangled on the dance floor under the lights
Fingers in each other’s hair-
We must have looked
Just like lovers.

I searched for a way out of my feelings for you.
I kissed her for a long time, until we were both gasping.
I found nothing.
In my frustration I pulled her head back,
Bit her lip
Pressed my fingers hard into the back of her neck
And I felt her lust
But not mine.
It was nice to be wanted
But not nice enough.
I wanted to hurt her for touching me
For not being you
So I pulled away
And kissed her cheek gently
My hands beneath her jaw.
“Wow,” she said.
I couldn’t look at her.
That tenderness wasn’t hers
But it didn’t matter.
I kissed her hands
In penance disguised as sweetness.
Suddenly all the anger was gone from me
And I felt desolate.

That night I walked home with my head buzzing.
I wasn’t drunk,
I was sober as hell
Head pounding with thoughts of you.
I hated it.
I hate it.
Somehow I fell into this feeling
And I’ve been fighting not to drown ever since.
When I look at you
I feel everything I wish I’d felt while I was kissing her
And more
That I sometimes wish I’d never feel again.
Sometimes I think you see it.
Sometimes I know I cover for it badly.
Sometimes, when you’re suddenly present
Like the sun has turned on just for me
And then distant later
Like the sea at night
I think you know I already love you.
Maybe you hate it like I hate it.
Maybe you worship it like I worship it.
Maybe you fear it
And I don’t blame you.
A storm presses out against my skin when I look at you
And I’m surprised no chaos seeps through.
My bones hum with it
My heartbeat reaching like thunder into my fingers.

I’ll probably never kiss you
And maybe that’s for the best
Because even being near you makes me feel like I’m falling from somewhere high up.
If I kissed you, I’d feel everything, I’m sure of it-
Everything there is to feel
And it would end me
And I would be grateful.

I wonder if you ever see that in my eyes.
That fear, that longing, that shame and joy.
A love and loathing so intense it scalds.
‘I can’t believe I’m here again,’
It pounds through my veins.
‘I can’t believe I love another person
Who is always looking elsewhere.’

Just know, if you ever discover how I feel
That I tried to **** it.
I looked at this beautiful feeling
A feeling you could pray before like an altar
A feeling you could whisper into like a temple- barefoot and cold with wonder- and hear your soul echo back,
I looked at the sacred piece of humanity that had suddenly risen in my heart like a hymn
And I tried to silence it-
I tried hard-
So that you would never have to fear it.

I failed. It lives.
It took root in me, and whenever I speak your name little harsh flowers push their way up through the concrete under my feet, sending cracks out like jagged spiderwebs.
They bloom like wounds.
They kiss the sky.
And, slowly,
They are crumbling this city to dust.
Title is a quote from Milton’s Paradise Lost, spoken by Lucifer.
Fiona Runs May 2016
feeling the pull
holding ankles
i can't fight back
hobbled i fall forward 
it drags me under
cold waters
clawing at the ocean floor
i lift my head
**** in air
to struggle free
my feet on earth
again
I am me

later
i feel
magnatised 
feel
the powerful force
it draws me near
it's compelling
persuasive
leads me like I lead a horse
raising my force
high
twisting turning  
out of its grasp

Daily i am pulled
dragged
out of my flow  
my habitat
my own
true nature
withering
in this daily battle

One day i will be
too weak
to
fight
and
it won't want me
anymore

I will be free
dadens Jul 9
you were
a few sentences
on a page
in a chapter
of her life long book

but those sentences
were compelling enough

to give her hope
that future chapters
could be rewritten

and, maybe, she'd find you then.
marvin m brato Oct 2018
Am I real to the tests
of being a human flesh
created in His own image
of body and soul package?

Am I true to the faith
of being a believer of fate
imperfection is the way I walk
sinful words I often speak or talk?

Am I honest to my affinity
of being among Christianity
backsliding is the act I practice
still keeps the faith without malice?

Am I destine for hell
of being with others who fail
world pleasures quite compelling
how can I resist as a mortal being?
Nat Lipstadt Mar 21
~for Star BG~*

the visualization exists and persists like a pea burr
under a princess mattress,
the old poet in confession reveals he is a 180 degree sinner,
hail mary, yeah baby,
but the 90 degree was deemed so correct that blessed as right,
intuited and taught as the first of the geometric earth geo-phases,
first even before,
the Kabbalist circles found in early man’s cave
star drawings

who has time or patience to lean on a base tree trunk,
sitting, becoming an emboldened line compelling complimentary,
a human addition to seal a natural right angle,
blessed are they,
good luck to all of us,
for he who feels peace, brings it forth,
no messiah required,
when humans use their bodies and trees,
to make a rightful peace sign,
humans breathe the forest oxygen
preserving both
3/21 10:11am
a thank you poem.

in every comment and message,
you seed the next one!
Yuki Jan 2
Life is a game between
you and yourself.
You are going to lose
at some point anyway.
Find something worth
losing for.
What would make
your defeat compelling?
Grab it and call it
a victory.
#life #yourself #fight #losing #defeat #victory
the dirty poet Aug 2018
man, that phrase covers it all
the shower curtain falling
the autobody repair bill
the inevitable nuclear bomb
those genius republicans
the “innovations” at work
my invisibility in a crowd
melting glaciers that swallow continents
the horror in the mirror (past a certain age)
realizing you live a stranger’s life
our phones compelling us to jump off a bridge
running out of milk for our wheaties
that’s showbiz
em Jan 8
there is nothing i can say.
i am no longer a child, or a young adult,
i have no mass of anger, nor am i looking for a way out.
i have realized, along with my newfound silence,
that every single person is in pain.
their pain is specific to them, though.
i have listened to people talk endlessly,
hearing themselves, yet they never really say anything.
their words attempt to reach anyone, yet they evaporate
right off the tongue.
their eyes flick around, compelling yet merely like wallpaper,
to hide what rots and has cracked beneath.
their souls are infrared but empty, they have nothing to give
because they cannot receive.
i have listened to complete, stubborn silence from
many people.
and without words, without language, they communicate in
the most raw, animalistic way.
they cry, they shake, they scream.
they bruise themselves and wish silently for an end
and these people without words,
say everything.
i have realised, many times over.
this condition.
many things can make us tired,
but our own beating hearts are sure to be
a final point of fatigue.
it is incompatible, incomprehensible our place in the universe
overwhelming how little we know, how little we are capable of knowing.
we can feel we are bright but only in comparison,
and as a reality our blood is *****, our skin is pocked, our legs tire, our eyes glaze thick with age, and we do not die with our hair.
everything we consider of importance is material, decomposing.
we conduct our own destruction and applaud ourselves for our fatigue.
we scream, we cry, we shake,
we talk and talk and our teeth rot and our minds collapse inwards.
perhaps our suffering lies not inside of ourselves and our exhaustion,
but in all that we can see we are not.
Philipp K J Dec 2018
Stop battering her mind by invasions
of your curious cultural perversions
Get out of her way I tell you for god sake.
She needs quietude
To come out of her servitude
to repair and restore her aptitude
In the balm and calm of solitude

Her dome is broken with throbs
torn yarns spasm derobes
With velocity escape to infinity
Due to your ferocious felinity

She needs peace to space walk
To gather the ruffled rob safe back

So leave her  alone I tell you
As if she were in ICU

She needs silence to settle
Down to revive her mettle
with rarer precious metals
Cement her mental pieces

Mind can swoop down with trough
Ride on a rough wave's crest
Pat and pacify with suavity
bring back the halo from infinity
zero down the hero with unity,
from a state of KD 
rejuvenate the PD
Back to an ambience of 3D

So Leave her alone I tell you

Let her bleed, perspire in despire
If mind willing, desire compelling
Let it prepare her self, to repair itself
the broken respiration sighs
With high waves of neighs
conspires to set in her scattred inspiration
To the errected pyre of desperation
Asunder to cinder and surrender.

Let the fire embrace her to scintillation
In a catalystic ambiance of ventilation
Mix and suffix with whirling flame
To phoenix her into a healing dame.

For god sake leave her alone I tell you..
Waynepatrick Aug 2018
I heard they mocked that you are blind,
And claimed you were born with less of a mind,
If they despise you so much,why do they want to be you.

In their gardens strolling, they can't help but notice,
The blooming rose,jasmine,lily of the valley and the chocolate cosmos.
The frangipani and how it's fragrance intensifies at night attracting moth pollinators.
They do this with their eyes closed.

The kiss,a symbol of one's love for another,
Be it a mother, father, close friend or lover,
To feel it's utmost power,
Most do it with their eyes closed.

I see them in the dead of night,at the peak of passionate love making,
Aha!guess how their eyes are,
Definitely not open.

And the dreams, the dreams they have,
Be it a nightmare or not,
Both demand to have the eyes closed,
Surely this can't go opposed.

But perhaps the most compelling one of all,
Is how they pray to The Almighty,
Supplications poured unto Him,
With knees humbly fallen,
And eyes closed in their chants.

So tell me who is really blind,
The most beautiful moments are felt with the eyes closed,
And as for you,The Almighty deserved that you feel beauty to it's extreme,
Thus closed your eyes for eternity,
That,you,may be consumed in eternal beauty
i love her
i love her so much
she's everything
i don’t understand it
the feelings that overcome my body
the thoughts that occupy my mind
nothing i have ever experienced
wholeheartedly foreign
whitman said
“we feel the long pulsation, ebb and flow of endless motion”
i never understood it
until she gave it meaning
she entered my life without permission
and intertwined with my story in an instant
nothing else matters
she’s the only thing i can see
all can fall into ruin
i don't care
she's my only pinch of bliss
in this incessant cyclone of turbulence
she transforms the mundane into compelling
hopelessness into safety
darkness into light
all i want is her to be next to me
to hold my hand
and love me
the desire to share everything with her
makes me want to live
makes me not want to die
she's the love of my life
all i ever wanted and dreamt of
i adore every inch of her body and soul
i refuse to be without her
we shall never be apart
i will love her until my dying day

i just hope
she feels the same way

02/01/2019
RAJ NANDY Aug 2018
THE ENIGMA OF TIME IN VERSE: PART TWO
Dear Friends, having introduced ‘The Enigma of Time in Verse’ in Part One, along with few selected poetic quotes, I now mention what some of the important Philosophers thought about Time down the past centuries. But while doing so, I have tried my best to simplify some of those early concepts for better understanding and appreciation of my readers. If you like it, kindly re-post the poem. Thanks,  – Raj Nandy of New Delhi.

          THE ENIGMA OF TIME IN VERSE : PART TWO
   I commence by quoting Sonnet 60 of Shakespeare about Time,
   Hoping to seek some blessings for this Part Two composition of
   mine!
“Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
  So do our minutes hasten to their end;
  Each changing place with that which goes before,
  In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
  Nativity, once in the main of light,
  Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown’d,
  Crooked elipses ’gainst his glory fight,
  And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
  Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
  And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow,
  Feeds on the rarities of nature’s truth,
  And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
  And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.”

              PHILOSOPHY OF TIME
Animals are said to live in a continuous present,
Since they have no temporal distinction of past, future,
or the present.
But our consciousness of time, becomes the most
distinguishing feature of mankind.
Though we are mostly obsessed with objective time, -
As the rotation of our Earth separates day from night.
With the swing of the pendulum and the ticking of clocks,
Which regulates our movements, while we try to beat the clock!
But the ancient theologians and philosophers of India and
Greece,
Who were among the first to ponder about the true nature
of all things,
Had wondered about the subjective nature of time;
Was time linear or cyclic, was time endless or finite?

GREEK PHILOSOPHERS ON TIME:
I begin with Heraclitus, the Pre-Socratic philosopher of 6th Century BC born in Ephesus.
He claimed that everything around us, is in a constant state of change and flux.
You cannot step into the same river twice Heraclitus had claimed,
Since water keeps flowing down the river all the while and never
remains the same.
This flow and change in Nature is a process which is ceaseless.
The only thing which remains permanent is impermanence!
Here is a quote from poet Shelley reflecting the same idea:
“World on world are rolling ever
  From creation to decay
  Like the bubbles on a river
  Sparkling, bursting, borne away.”

Now Heraclitus was refuted by Parmenides, born in the Greek colony of Elea,
On the western coast of Southern Italy, as his contemporary.
Parmenides said that our senses deceive us, since all changes are mere illusory!
True reality was only eternal and unchanging ‘Being’, which was both indivisible and continuous - filling up all space.
Zeno, a pupil of Parmenides, through his famous ‘Paradox of Achilles and the Tortoise’ had shown, that when the tortoise was given a head start,
Swift footed Achilles could never catch up with the tortoise,
Since the space between the two were infinitely divisible, resulting in the impossibility of movement and change in motion!
Now the Greeks were never comfortable with the Concept of Infinity.
They preferred to view the universe as continuous existing ‘Being’.  
However, unlike Heraclitus’ ‘world of change and flux’,
Both Parmenides and Zeno have presented us, with a static unchanging universe!
Thus from the above examples it becomes easy for us to derive,  
How those Ancient Greeks had viewed Time.
Time has been viewed as a forward moving changing entity;
And also as an illusory, continuous and indivisible Being!
To clarify this further I quote Bertrand Russell from his ‘History of Western Philosophy’;
“Creation out of nothing, which was taught in the Old Testament, was an idea wholly foreign to Greek philosophy. When Plato speaks of creation, he imagines a primitive matter, to which God gives form as an artificer.”

PLATO AND ARISTOTLE ON TIME:
For Plato, time was created by the Creator at the same instance when he had fashioned the heavens.
But Plato was more interested to contemplate on things which lay
beyond the sway of time and remained unchangeable and eternal;
Like absolute Truth, absolute Justice, the absolute form of Good and Beauty;
Which were eternal and unchangeable like the ‘Platonic Forms’, and were beyond the realm of Time as true reality.
Plato’s pupil Aristotle was the first Greek philosophers to contemplate on reality inside time, and provide a proper definition as we get to see.
He said, “Time is the number of movement in respect to before and after” - as a part of reality.
To measure time numerically, we must have a ‘before’ and an ‘after’, and also notice the difference objectively.
Therefore, time here becomes the change which we see and experience.
Time takes on a linear motion moving from the past to the present;
And to the unknown future like a moving arrow travelling straight.
Aristotle had developed a four step process to understand everything inside of Time and within human experience:
(a) Observe the world using our senses,
(b) Apply logical rules to these observations,
(c) To go back and consult past authorities, if your logic agrees with their logic,
(d) Then only you can come to a logical conclusion.

No wonder in our modern times, experiments conducted by the LDC or the Large Hadron Collider, located 100m underground near the French-Swiss border,
By going back in time simulates the ‘Big Bang’ conditions, that moment of our universe’s first creation.
The scientists thereby, study the evolution of our universe with time, which  resulted in the  finding of the Higgs Boson !  (On 4thJuly 2012)

NOTES :  All elementary particles interacting with the Higg's Field & obtain Mass, excepting for photons & gluons which do not interact with this field. Mass-less photons can travel at the
speed of light with a mind boggling 186,000 miles per second! Now this LDC is a Particle Accelerator 27 kms long ring-shaped tunnel, made mostly of superconducting magnets, inside which two high-energy particle beams are made to travel close to the speed of light in opposite directions, and the shower of particles resulting from the collision is closely examined, presuming that these similar shower of particles must have been produced at the time of the ‘Big Bang’ some 13.8 million years ago, at the time of Creation! Sound like fiction? Well, Prof. Peter Higgs got the Noble Prize for Physics, for locating the particle called ‘Higgs Boson’ among those shower of particles, on 10th Dec. 2013.

NOW TO LIGHTEN UP MY READERS MIND, FEW TIME QUOTE I NOW PROVIDE :

“TIME WASTES OUR BODIES AND OUR WITS,
  BUT WE WASTE TIME, SO WE ARE QUITS!” – Anonymus.

‘Time is a great Teacher, but unfortunately it kills its Pupils!’ – HL Berlioz

“Lost , yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two
   golden hours,
   Each set with sixty diamond minutes.
   No reward is offered, for they are gone forever!” – Horace Mann


PLOTINUS & ST. AUGUSTINE ON TIME:
Now getting back to our Philosophy of Time, there was Plotinus of the 3rd Century AD,
The founder of the mystical Neo-Platonic School of Philosophy.
He had followed Plato’s basic concept of Time as “the moving image of eternity.”
Mystic Plotinus tried to synthesize both Aristotle and Plato by saying that the entire process of cosmic creation,
Flows out of the ONE  through a series of emanation!
This ONE gave rise to the ‘Divine Mind’ which he called the ‘Realm of Intelligence’ and is an aspect of reality,
When everything is understood in terms of Platonic Forms of Truth, Justice, the Good, and Beauty.
However, the later Christian theologians had interpreted this ONE of Plotinus, -
As the Christian God, the Divine Creator of the Universe.
For God is eternal, in the sense of being timeless, in God there is no before or after, but only a timeless present.

Now this lead St. Augustine, to formulate a very admirable relativistic theory of Time!
St. Augustine, the greatest constructive teacher of the Early Christian Church, had written in Book XI of his ‘Confessions’ during  5th century AD, -
His thoughts about the enigma of Time which had perplexed the Greek philosophers of earlier centuries.
To simplify St. Augustine’s thoughts, I now paraphrase for the sake of clarity.
Time can only be measured while it is passing, yet there is time past, and time future in reality.
To avoid these contradictions he says that past and future can only be thought of as present: ‘past’ must be identified with memory, and ‘future’ with expectation.
Since memory and expectation being both present facts, there is no contradiction.  
“The present of things past is memory, the present of things present is sight; and the present of things future is expectation,” - wrote St. Augustine.

This subjective notion of time led St. Augustine to anticipate Rene Descartes the French philosopher the 17th Century,
Who proclaimed “Cogito, ergo sum” in Latin, meaning “I think, therefore I am”, and is regarded as the Father of Modern Philosophy.

Now cutting a long story short I come to Sir Isaac Newton, well known for his Laws of Motion and Gravity.
Newton speaks of ‘Absolute Time’ which exists independently, flowing at a consistent pace throughout the universe, which can only be understood mathematically.
Newton’s ‘Absolute Time’ had remained as the dominant concept till the  early years of the 20th Century.
When Albert Einstein formulated ‘Theory of Space-time’ along with his Special and General Theory of Relativity.

Now the German philosopher Leibniz during 17th century, had challenged Newton with his anti-realist theory of time.
Leibniz claimed that time was only a convenient intellectual concept, that enables to sequence and compare happening of events.
There must be objects with which time can interact or relate to as ‘Relational Time’ he had felt.
Ernst Mach, like Leibniz towards the end of 19th Century, said that even if it was not obvious what time and space was relative to,
Then they were still relative to the ‘fixed stars’ i.e. the bulk of matter in the universe.

CONCEPT OF TIME AS 'SPECIOUS PRESENT' :
During late 19th century, Robert Kelley introduced the concept of ‘spacious present’, which was the most recent part of the past.
Psychologist and philosopher William James developed this idea further by describing it as ‘’the short duration of which we are immediately and incessantly sensible’’
William James also introduced the term “stream of consciousness” into literature as a method of narration,
That described happenings in the flow of thought in the mind of the characters, - likened to an internal monologue!
This literary technique was later used by James Joyce in his famous novel ‘Ulysses’.

TIME CONCEIVED AS DURATION: HENRI BERGSON (1859 -1941)
Next I come to one of my favourite philosopher the French born Henri Bergson.
The Nobel Laureate and author of ‘Time and Free Will’ and ‘Creative Evolution’.
Will Durant in his ‘Story of Philosophy’ says Bergson was ‘the David destined to slay the Goliath of materialism.’
It was Bergson’s ‘Elan Vital’ that life force and impelling urge, Which makes us grow and transforms this wandering planet into a theatre of unending creation.
For Bergson, time is as fundamental as space; and it is time that holds the essence of life, and perhaps of all reality.
Time is an accumulation, a growth, a duration, where “duration is the continuous progress of the past which gnaws into the future and which swells as it advances.
The past in its entirety is prolonged into the present and abides there actual and acting.
Duration means that the past endures, that nothing is lost.
Though we think with only a small part of our past; but it is with our entire past that we desire, will, and act.”
“Since time is an accumulation, the future can never be the same as the past, -
For a new accumulation arises at every step, and change is far more radical than we suppose…the geometric predictability of all things, Which is the goal of a mechanistic science, is only a delusion and a dream!”  
Bergson goes on in his compelling lyrical style:            
“For a conscious being, to exist is to change, to change is to mature,
to mature is to go on creating one’s self endlessly. Perhaps all reality is time and duration, becoming and change.”
Bergson differed with Darwin's theory of adaptation to environment, and stated;
“Man is no passively adaptive machine, he is a focus of redirected force, a centre of creative evolution.”

Martin Heidegger, the German thinker in his ‘Being and Time’ of 1927, had said:
“We do not exist within time, but in a very real way we are time!”
Time is inseparable from human experience, since we can allow the past to exist in the present through memory;
And even allow a potential future occurrence to exist in the present due to our human ability to care, and be concerned about things.
Therefore we are not stuck in simple sequential or linear time, but can step out of it almost at will!

CONCLUDING  PART  TWO OF ENIGMA OF TIME IN VERSE
In this part I have tried to convey what the Ancient Greek Philosophers had felt about Time in a simplified way.
Also some thoughts of Medieval and Early Modern philosophers and what they had to say.
Where Sir Isaac Newton stands like a colossus with his Concept of Time, Laws of Motion, and Gravity.
Not forgetting Henri Bergson, one of my favourite philosopher, of the mid-19th and the mid-20th Century.
All through my narration I had tried to hold the interest of my readers, and also educated myself as a true knowledge seeker.
In my concluding Part Three I will cover few Modern Philosophers along with the relativistic concept of time.
Certainly not forgetting the space-time theory of our famous Albert Einstein!
Thanks for reading patiently, from Raj Nandy of New Delhi.
  *ALL COPY RIGHTS ARE WITH THE AUTHOR ONLY
marianne Jun 23
Her heart is flushed and red and raw, beating wildly
as if her precious life depends on it
Barefaced and undivided, feet planted
or flapping madly on a wing
she feels
Danger! it sounds a warning—
she can feel her skin prickle cold
and knows it to be true
You were made for this, it whispers, your words on paper
are my fire—
blood rushes through each vessel
until her very finger tips are dancing
and she knows it to be true

My heart is smooth and pale and pink, wrapped tightly
in thin plastic cover by unseeing eyes
faraway heart
I hear my cool mind instead, it speaks
in compelling voices
not my own
Yesterday I peeled back a thin layer called shame
with tears and chin trembling—
my heart sputtered and flickered, warm
for a time
my finger tips still numb
I want to unearth my beating heart
I want to feel it on my skin
Honestly I'd rather be
preoccupied with political affairs
gone awry, rather be
inundated with daily cares.
Memories, too, however dark,
are snug and warm,
couched as they are in familiarity;
almost consoling is the inner storm.
For all of these, are they not,
a compelling, dramatic turning away
from what we sometimes
but half-sense, half-perceive?
It is better to remember, to grieve,
better for grief to stretch far and wide
than for one to sit silently
with the vast loneliness inside.
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