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Brenda Erickson

Originally Posted March 13, 2011

Our First Poet!

We have received our first poems to be offered for your consideration. 
Brenda Erickson has been kind/brave enough to share her words with us.

Brenda Erickson lives in New Jersey with her husband, a lovely daughter, and two well-fed, troublesome felines. She has a garden full of perennials and a heart full of hope.  In addition to writing poetry, Brenda is a jewelry designer and an artist.  Check out her art work here: BetulaBlu.

Please show her your support by leaving your comments.  
And, thank you Brenda for being willing to go first.

Now that the ice is broken – the rest of you don’t have to be shy about sharing (hint)

Arrogant Fool

I came to the temple for peace
a desire for enlightenment
I gazed upon the Buddha’s grace
the face a map of serenity

I came to the temple for clarity
I needed to get a clue
a whisper heard
soft but unyielding

I saw my arrogance
understood my ignorance
but demanded redemption
and the whisper pressed

I cried for resolution
begged for forgiveness
pleaded for mercy
but the word persevered

I shook the word away
angry and bitter, oh no
it has to be more complicated
not so simple as to

 I blocked the voice
and looked towards the door
I would not hear, I could not see
and the whisper fell silent
to be heard no more

© 2011 Brenda Erickson All Rights Reserved

Her Turbulent Bosom

white froth please take me
to sea with the tide
encompass and absorb me
my sense of separateness fading
one last sucking breath
salt water filling every void

naturally nearly sixty percent water,
what is the harm in a little more? 

the waves toss my body back to rock
outer vestiges bludgeoned till gone
the Mother scrubbing her child
vanity and foolish notions to be no more
illusions of happiness and contentment
never were mine to own

Is death any different than life
if I ardently believe it not to be so? 

So take me, Mother
to your turbulent bosom
soaking soul till I dissolve
sloshing froth rock me sweetly
welcome the darkness as my new home
my pain finally done

 All utterances of “I” finally quiet
forgetting my name, my soul

My essence mixed and spilled
then blood and salt combined
simply a wave, nothing more
ancient rhythms my master
the full moon a drum beat
that calls me home

© 2011 Brenda Erickson All Rights Reserved


One Response

  1. […] Now she is the first author to share a personal essay. You can read those first poems here Brenda You can also read more of her work and view her wonderful art here Vivid […]

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