To Virgins, to Make Much of Time -- Robert Herrick

Guest poem submitted by Nandini Krishnamoorthy:

(Poem #1965) To Virgins, to Make Much of Time Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old time is still a-flying And this same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And, while ye may, go marry; For, having lost but once your prime, You may forever tarry. -- Robert Herrick

I was surprised that Minstrels had not run this famous Herrick poem. My
first recollection of the poem is from "Dead Poets Society", Robin
Williams reading it to the students. It's one of those poems that stays
with you forever and a wonderful joy in re-discovering it.

Nandini.

The World But Seems To Be -- Fakhruddin 'Iraqi

Guest poem sent in by Nandini Krishnamoorthy

(Poem #1899) The World But Seems To Be The world but seems to be yet is nothing more than a line drawn between light and shadow. Decipher the message of this dream-script and learn to distinguish time from Eternity. -- Fakhruddin 'Iraqi

   (Fakhr al-din Ibrahim)

English translation by William Chittick and Peter Lamborn Wilson

I stumbled upon this piece of poetry thanks to a post by Mac[1]. One of
those poems that can leave you feeling humbled and at the same time lift
your spirits. Cannot think of a better poem that you will want to carry with
you forever.

[1] http://groups.yahoo.com/group/minstrels/message/1968

[Links]

Biography:
  Fakhr al-din Ibrahim (Persian philosopher, 1213 - 1289)
  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fakhruddin_'Iraqi

Poems:
  http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/I/IraqiFakhrud/index.htm

A Piece Of The Storm -- Mark Strand

Guest poem sent in by Nandini Krishnamoorthy

(Poem #1478) A Piece Of The Storm For Sharon Horvath From the shadow of domes in the city of domes, A snowflake, a blizzard of one, weightless, entered your room And made its way to the arm of the chair where you, looking up From your book, saw it the moment it landed. That's all There was to it. No more than a solemn waking To brevity, to the lifting and falling away of attention, swiftly, A time between times, a flowerless funeral. No more than that Except for the feeling that this piece of the storm, Which turned into nothing before your eyes, would come back, That someone years hence, sitting as you are now, might say: "It's time. The air is ready. The sky has an opening." -- Mark Strand

I stumbled upon this poem thanks to Radhika mentioning the website "Poetry
in motion". The interpretation of this poem would be a daunting task to even
the seasoned critics, and I have but tried to "comprehend" the poetry.

To me the poem ties time and the power of transience in our lives. Some
things though seemingly transient are destined to unfold ever so slowly,
giving us the luxury to soak in the beauty of "it" being prolonged and when
its over, it reinforces the fact that it may start all over again, only to
capture another's attention. Of course this poem also tries to paint the
image of man as a mortal being and that many things that we believe to be
significant may melt to nothingness.

Well if it hurts no one, I would stick with my first line of interpretation.
Perhaps Mark Strand's opinion on interpreting poetry would be a good way to
summarize this poem.

  "It's not that poetry reveals more about the world — it doesn't — but
  it reveals more about our interactions with the world than our other modes
  of expression. And it doesn't reveal more about ourselves alone in
  isolation, but rather it reveals that mix of self and other, self and
  surrounding, where the world ends and we begin, where we end and the world
  begins".

        -— Mark Strand (Interview with Katharine Coles)

Nandini