Thoughts on Coleridge
To read lines in a notebook from
A man depressed, one who became
Addicted to opioids for
Pain from illness, bereft his friends
And family due to that
Addiction; a man who wanted
To die—to read that is painful.
Who hasn’t, whether real or feigned,
Felt so alone that would wish
To be dead? This man I speak of
Has gained immortal fame from his
Friendships and his poetry, one
Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
But another poet of e’en greater
Fame for dramas has written in
His character that one knows not
What comes in death, hence we live still
In cowardice. This poet was
Shakespeare, his character Hamlet
Speaking in that ever famous
To be or not soliloquy.
I cling to the words of Hamlet
While empathy for Coleridge
Flows from my pen. But yet I will
Ever seek joy and pray that I
Though bounded in a nutshell find
Myself king of infinite space
Living in endless joy where my
Cup runneth over and I no
More like Jacob wrestle with God
But live in peace with creator
Mine and friend for eternity.
December 2023
I found this in my journal and typed it up. It isn't the greatest poem, but it shows how authors have influenced me, authors such as Shakespeare and Coleridge and the Bible. I also connect to these old authors and I wonder what I have to leave to the world, sometimes feeling depressed as if I have nothing. I think the reality is that I don't know just what I will leave that people see as important, but I know that my children are important and they will leave their own marks on the world. So I have done my part however small. The picture is Rydal Mount in the Lake District of England. It is where William Wordsworth lived and Coleridge often visited him there. Wordsworth was the friend who kind of wrote Coleridge off.
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