My time, your time, the concept of time, the passing of time, the tyranny of time, the luxury of time, the burden and the gift of time.
And somehow Janet Norris Bangs' short poem, which appeared in the February, 1933 issue of Poetry magazine is a perfectly appointed reflection on the paradoxes of Time in the time of coronavirus.
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Photo credit: Jordan Benton
13 comments:
I'm thinking how fitting it is that this poem about time travels through time to us now and seems completely appropriate and meaningful as if untouched by time.
Liz — yes! :)
Perfectly put.
Liz said it well, and I would add that finding poems like these are somewhat a comfort, to know that feelings like ours have been felt in other times. We are not alone! Thanks, Karen, this is wonderful. Happy May!
This is stunning! I'm unfamiliar with it and with this poem. Thanks for the introduction:>)
Great find, Karen! I almost didn't leave a comment because I went off on a tangent looking up more poems by this poet. Hope y'all are well. xo
Hi dear Karen!
I am impressed that you have a Poetry magazine from the 1930s.
And intrigued.
A left-over from your parents - or a rescued issue from a book sale?
Janet's s poem says it all.
Appreciations.
ox
Jan
I will not apologize for hoarding little minutes...that's what gets me through the day sometimes!
"We hoard our little moments one by one." Yes, we sure do! Thanks for sharing this new-to-me poem!
So much truth in the little poem! Thanks so much for sharing it. Yes... I have felt the same way...
A poem about time that is 'timeless.' The hoarding of little moments is germane to those who write and in these most unusual days we are particularly conscious of time. It seeps away like oil held in the hand, and yet I find myself enjoying the solitude this 'home' time has delivered. Thank you for sharing this delightful little poem Karen. It has given me pause to reflect.
Always interesting to me how time is a subject for so many writers. There's never enough of it to go around, it seems. Thanks for sharing this poem.
A very timely poem! With so many hours saved by not running around, why do we still feel as if there's not enough time? Perhaps if we just realize the truth of that last line "We who inherit all eternity" we could begin to slow down even more. Thanks for this poem, Karen.
So true. Time is a funny thing even in the best of times, even more so during these strange times.
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