Erin's Everyday Thoughts

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Haiku #1, #2, and #3 (2012 Edition)

An Era
When I near the end
The room fades to a dark blue
I fade to nothing

If I ever was
Will I be again one day?
Or does change hold fast?

Spring Sunshine
All across this town
Sun glares through clear window panes
Onto chairs, and beds

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Playing with Poetry / Lyrics

I feel so low. I feel so low.
My world’s apart. My world’s apart.
What do I do? Where do I start
On fixing up this busted heart?

I don’t care that it’s fine outside.
This whole damn life’s a bumpy ride.
And I am stuck inside, inside.
I only want to sink and hide.

What thing will make a difference here?
What thing will stop these tired tears?
What thing will bring me rest and peace?
I need it now, so please god please.

Another day, I cannot take.
There’s far too much at stake, at stake.
And too much time’s already past.
I need the fix—I need it fast.

I feel so low. My world’s apart.
Where do I start? Where do I start
In fixing up this busted heart—
This bruised and beaten, broken heart?

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

It's Been a Long Time, Baby

I feel as though the last year or so of my life has been a blur. I'm not sure where the time has gone. It's been lost to work, to responsibilities, to life. I'm trying to come back.

Here's a poem I read this morning that should help, written by Ms. Mary Oliver.

When Death Comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.