Very kind of you to say so, Ray. Me, i'm never certain i've said what i meant to say, so it's always a pleasure to read that i've nailed it. I've been rereading the 'Staying Alive' anthologies, wherein, at the start of every section there's a quote from a poet on the meaning of poetry, how it fits into our lives. I'd be very interested in hearing yours, if you have formulated one.

Comment is about I CAN'T PUT MY FINGER ON IT, BUT... (blog)

Original item by Martin Peacock

A puff of logic - now there is a real poetic line! One thing that intrigues me with poetry is how such dense matter can be contained so concisely to be unravelled. I think with your comment as well as the poem you have amply explained the unexplainable!

Ray

Comment is about I CAN'T PUT MY FINGER ON IT, BUT... (blog)

Original item by Martin Peacock

Ouch! Ray, you've got it, more or less. We're all prisoners of time, but some are trapped in different wings of the prison (or should that be 'prism'?), in the past or future (pessimists/optimists, analogously.) Everything really depends on something that doesn't exist; and in not-existing, it proves that we don't exist, either. Proof: the past doesn't exist - it has already happened, it is gone, vanished into history; the future doesn't exist either - it is merely potential, an ocean of possibilities waiting to resolve itself in the blinding light of Now; and yet the present doesn't exist either - try to put your finger on this exact instant and you're always too late: it has already become the past in the instant you conceived of the idea. Our brains perceive incoming information too rapidly to codify it straight away so it takes both subconscious and conscious minds appreciable amounts of time to register stimulae; therefore what our senses tell us is already old news by the time we've interpreted it. So, the past doesn't exist; the future doesn't exist; the present doesn't exist; and we being prisoners of time therefore cannot exist either. Ptooff! We vanish in a puff of logic. It's too late to get that coat, my friend: it doesn't exist either. We are all figments of our own imagination.

Comment is about I CAN'T PUT MY FINGER ON IT, BUT... (blog)

Original item by Martin Peacock

I am intrigued Martin. At the end of the poem, with some insight you have revealed the truth of your position I feel. It has a vast and important message that our minds (your representing it) are constantly at loggerheads especially psychologically, always reaching out for answers, and such thinking is like a storm untameable and excoriating . It is almost descending into insanity or at least the ingredients of it. A clever but unrestrained offering and well worth the study!
I'll get my coat......

Ray

Comment is about I CAN'T PUT MY FINGER ON IT, BUT... (blog)

Original item by Martin Peacock

I'm so grateful to all who've read my poems. My thanks to you.

Comment is about I CAN'T PUT MY FINGER ON IT, BUT... (blog)

Original item by Martin Peacock