Luminous Decay

justinehrlich

Justin Ehrlich was born in Essex in 1985 and has a degree in Philosophy. He writes poetry and short fiction dealing with themes of death, insanity and the supernatural.

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29 Dec 2011

December 29th, 4:06am 1 comment

Emily Dickinson 1830 - 1886

Remorse

Remorse -- is Memory -- awake --
Her Parties all astir --
A Presence of Departed Acts --
At window -- and at Door --

Its Past -- set down before the Soul
And lighted with a Match --
Perusal -- to facilitate --
And help Belief to stretch --

Remorse is cureless -- the Disease
Not even God -- can heal --
For 'tis His institution -- and
The Adequate of Hell --

John William Waterhouse - The Remorse of the Emperor Nero after the Murder of his Mother

Filed under Art Emily Dickinson John William Waterhouse Poetry Remorse The Remorse of the Emperor Nero after the Murder of his Mother

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16 Oct 2011

October 16th, 4:50am 0 comments

Emily Dickinson 1830 - 1886

One need not be a chamber to be haunted,
One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing
Material place.

Far safer, of a midnight meeting
External ghost,
Than an interior confronting
That whiter host.

Far safer through an Abbey gallop,
The stones achase,
Than, moonless, one’s own self encounter
In lonesome place.

Ourself, behind ourself concealed,
Should startle most;
Assassin, hid in our apartment,
Be horror’s least.

The prudent carries a revolver,
He bolts the door,
O’erlooking a superior spectre
More near. Edouard Manet 1832 - 1883 - The Suicide

Filed under Edouard Manet Emily Dickinson Poetry The Suicide

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2 Sep 2011

September 2nd, 3:44pm 0 comments

Emily Dickinson 1830 - 1886

My life closed twice before its close;
It yet remains to see
If Immortality unveil
A third event to me,

So huge, so hopeless to conceive,
As these that twice befell.
Parting is all we know of heaven,
And all we need of hell. Albrecht Durer - Young Woman Attacked by Death; or, The Ravisher

Filed under Albrecht Durer Art Emily Dickinson Poetry The Ravisher Young Woman Attacked by Death

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2 Jun 2011

June 2nd, 3:32pm 0 comments

Emily Dickinson 1830 - 1886

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

Alfred Rethel 1816 - 1859

Filed under Alfred Rethel Emily Dickinson Poetry

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Emily Dickinson 1830 - 1886

Emily Dickinson 1830 - 1886

Emily Dickinson 1830 - 1886

Emily Dickinson 1830 - 1886