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Showing posts with label World. Show all posts
Showing posts with label World. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
I'm not just here for a visit
This world is where I live
Earth is where I keep all my stuff
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Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Thursday, June 2, 3:00. This is when the book signing will be. That's the last week of classes. Half-a-week before Finals. One week before commencement. Three weeks and two days from today. Twelve days after Judgement Day, from what I hear. Mark your calendars.
Also, a prompt:
"I don't want to end up simply having visited this world."
Whitney is keeping the poem it is from secret so that our inspirations on how to write to it will not be tainted. So don't google it until after you've written your poem!
Edit: Okay, here's where the prompt was from.
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 his 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 a 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.
~ Mary Oliver ~
Also, a prompt:
"I don't want to end up simply having visited this world."
Whitney is keeping the poem it is from secret so that our inspirations on how to write to it will not be tainted. So don't google it until after you've written your poem!
Edit: Okay, here's where the prompt was from.
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 his 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 a 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.
~ Mary Oliver ~
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World
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