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observations. stories. in revolt of the niche. poetry. reflections.

green eyes

1/30/2015

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his eyes change
from green to brown
like mine from blue to green
subtle differences
but we are both
hazel

©Erin Croley
(from a #WordVerse Twitter prompt)
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corrupting influence

1/27/2015

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I'd like to think I'm not alone (in a misery-loves-company way),but also hope I am alone (in a I-don't-wish-this-on-others way). Last night, again (I wouldn't say it happens often, but definitely too often), I had dreams (or nightmares) in which I was helpless as a mother. My dreams are typically very vivid, but last night was just too bloody real (bloody and real). My little boy was suffering and the doctor (it was his real pediatrician in my dream) gave me that sad, there-is-nothing-we-can-do look as we hunched down on the ground over his tiny little body. I woke instantly to go check him, only to discover he was in my bed...my husband just lifting his peacefully sleeping body out from under the covers to carry back to his own bed. 
I almost asked him to leave him with me, but instead fought for a little more sleep, which didn't come. The rest of the day I felt like I had a hangover, and eventually wrote this...

with no liquor to blame
I'll attribute this hangover
to the corrupting influence
of restless dreams

©Erin Croley
(from a #MadVerse Twitter prompt)
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right now

1/27/2015

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today will be born on the flatbed of a trailer,
hauled across highways and gravel,
but right now there is coffee and bird song,
and I am writing

©Erin Croley
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transparent

1/25/2015

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we may wear more layers
in winter and rain,
but our natures are more transparent
when tempted inside

and I am grateful

to see you

©Erin Croley
(from a #HeartSoup Twitter prompt)
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night sky

1/25/2015

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night sky
reverberates in our chest
-a bass drum-
as if the stars were a reflection
of our flesh
and all our dreams
yet undiscovered

©Erin Croley
(from a #fieryverse Twitter prompt)
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lost

1/24/2015

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this night
when brilliance slides
in and out with the making
and remaking of bedsheets
I fail again and again
to recapture
myself

©Erin Croley
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naturally

1/23/2015

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identical chairs
angled together
contemplate the awakening day
sunday morning ritual
coffee
bird song
and us
(un)naturally silent

©Erin Croley
(from an #elixirpoetry Twitter prompt)
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we belong

1/20/2015

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trying to fit a poem
around "we belong"
but instead play repeated homage
to Pat Benatar

©Erin Croley
(from a #fieryverse Twitter prompt)
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empty space

1/20/2015

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I'd rather look at you
and you at me
this expanse of mirror
is just empty space

©Erin Croley
(from a #capturedpoets Twitter prompt)
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seven days

1/19/2015

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seven days

syncing 149 files...

99...
21...
4...
somewhere between 1-3 hours, 
still...
waiting

only 3 files left today...

48 minutes or another 24 hours...
until my laptop sprouts wings

winter window left open...

brought in frost and calm...
for morning

48 hour hiatus...

from technology...
is almost over...
and so I begin to stare at my laptop...
sleeping...
and daydream about baking

cusp of dawn tiptoeing...
past sleeping bedrooms...
coffee and headphones in hand...
the imprint of my day to come

fluctuating between the pull of productivity and the balance of me...
mom, runner, writer, friend, reader, beach-lounging daydreamer, human...
looks like pizza for dinner

wishing I could sprout hours and arms like a Hindu Goddess...
the unknown price of divinity is no match for my vision
of perfection

©Erin Croley


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