Poems can be magical things. In such a limited number of words, they suck us into a world entirely it's own, that we didn't even know existed before that moment. They can change us in many ways, both small and large, and they can leave us with an overwhelmingly powerful sense of emotion. Erin Hanson is a 21-year-old writer from Australia, who's work I only recently stumbled upon. Erin is able to paint incredible pictures with her words, and I guarantee you will feel nothing short of inspired after reading her work.
Without further ado, here are 7 poems by Erin Hanson that will inspire you to lead a more fulfilling life.
"You were born to be a rainstorm,
To send your voice throughout the night,
To sing your song with falling raindrops,
To bring the darkness with your light,
You were born to show raw beauty,
To wash the dirt out from their eyes,
But the whole world ran for cover,
When you opened up your skies,
So you made your thunder silent,
And learnt to bite your rainy tongue,
You gave them what they thought they wanted,
You gave them life with endless sun,
But as they watched their lives grow weaker,
Watched as their leaves turned brown and dry,
They wished they didn’t take for granted,
Your booming presence in the sky,
You were born to be a rainstorm,
To be chaotic and be bold,
To show there’s beauty in the knowledge,
That you cannot be controlled,
Because you might think you’re not needed,
Life without you is the same,
But nothing beautiful would ever grow,
If it wasn’t washed with rain."
"So many people walk this earth,
With purpose in their eyes,
But in their heart of hearts they know,
What they’re living is a lie,
The alarm goes off at 6am,
Like every other day,
So they can walk into a job they hate,
Because they need the pay,
All time does is take from them,
But it never seems to give,
Always waiting for the day to come,
When they finally start to live,
I’m all too scared that one day soon,
I’ll become just like the rest,
Only walking with the crowd,
Because my dreams have been oppressed,
That one day I’ll look back on life,
At the opportunities that I missed,
And realize I never truly lived,
All I did was just exist."
"You must teach your sense of self
To stand upon its own two feet,
Instead of propped up on the views
Of every person that you meet."
"The city is built on the backbone of wild things,
Beneath it their ancient hearts beat,
Layers on layers of lifetimes
Lying dormant below every street,
And above them the world rumbles onward,
A jungle of windows and walls,
Like ants on the run from a rainstorm
The traffic chaotically crawls.
You can still sense the souls of the wild things,
As the stars are switched on in the night,
Tangled betwixt all the powerlines.
And the ghostly glow of streetlights.
It is the feelings of something much grander,
Like the city has simply been borrowed,
And the wild things on which it was built
Will reclaim it in some far tomorrow.
It’s the echoes of calls long forgotten,
The reminder we’re living above the unknown,
And that we are not the first nor the last ones
Who will call this same piece of land home."
"You mustn’t live so lightly,
Spin your stories, tell your tales,
Let them dance across the oceans
And set the wind upon your sails.
For every truth found on your travels
And in the pits of your despair,
Is a shout into forever
Of, “I existed, and I cared.”
"Every heart’s a hurricane,
Each soul a starlit sea,
Every mind’s a meteor
Unbound by gravity.
And everybody’s wishing
They could learn to tame their tides,
When nothing more than nature
Is what’s echoing inside.
Every life’s a lightning bolt,
Yet everyone’s told no;
Bite back all your thunder
And don’t let the wild things show.
Every heart’s a hurricane,
Everyone a world within,
Every life too short for loathing
Any storms beneath your skin"
"Race down to the river
Where you buried who you’d been.
And let the earth erode
All that was innocent and green.
For time’s taken your troubles
And it’s left them smooth and calm,
Like rocks the water shaped
‘Til they fit snug inside your palm.
Race to where you left yourself
Alone among the banks,
Where winds had beat you hollow
And so to your knees you sank.
For the wild has been at work here;
Your past self is no more,
It’s just your breath upon the breeze,
Your soul amongst the forest floor."
If you are interested in reading more of Erin Hanson's work, you can browse her entire collection on her website at thepoeticunderground.com.